[CLOSED] AND YOU'LL KNOW THE NEXT TIME I WAKE UP SCREAMING

[illithidnapped]

WHO: Astarion, Fenris, Bastien, Emet-Selch, Mobius, Ellie, Dante, Loki
WHAT: fear spirits are no joke when you're a bag of broken glass
WHEN: backdated to Crossroads plot hours
WHERE: the Crossroads
NOTES: so many content warnings: mind control, slavery, torture, blood, mutilation and abuse of every conceivable/literal shade, possibly more warnings to be added later, not joking this is a very horrible space. There's a reason why I'm divorcing this from the main log; Astarion's canon is, in short, unkind.

source

Comments

[rebellionyell]

[No, Dante didn't hear anything, nothing but the dense vacuity of this place that crushed the senses and the distant sounds of their peers.

That didn't mean Astarion wasn't hearing anything. Spirits perhaps? Dante was finding that to be the case whenever voices and visions paid him a visit unwanted.

But then again it might be something else.

He'd seen Astarion in a variety of states before irascible a fire, treacherous as the sea, and comforting as the embrace of flowering wisteria. He'd even seen him disoriented and injured. Downcast and alite with unbridled desire.

Fear like this was different and this was fear. Maybe he'd seen this too, but Astarion kept the cork so tightly wedged that he'd never seen it escape from the bottle before.

His eyes track Astarion as he paces and gyres around Dante, the half-demon's own body revolving with him to keep his shadow in site, the vague outline that stops to suddenly reach for him and Dante's fingers twist around Astarion's own. The scrambling grasp and tight tremulous hold communicated quite a bit.

The fear was real even if Dante couldn't sense the source.]

Star.

[His voice is soft, not hesitant, but firm enough to cut through to him the way his voice had in that hold some months ago. And just as Astarion had done then Dante drew his body into his paralyzed companion winding his free arm around slighter shoulders.]

It's not real...I'm real...I'm with you.

[illithidnapped]

[It barely breaks the surface of that waking dream, Dante’s voice. Present, yes. Discernible. But not wholly there. As if reality and illusion have swapped places, and Astarion is far, far from cogent awareness beyond the heaviness of clinging fingers and intermingled scents (that, at least, he can recognize beyond the blood and stale mildew: the distinct note of a devil's presence— the non-Thedosian sort), and though it isn't an easy process, wresting himself away from the idea that he's back. That he's there. That Thedas was nothing but a blinking little flicker of a fantasy—

He tightens his hold on the man before him, face tucked in against his collarbone. Damp. The salt-slick sting of fear from fainter tear tracks, though it's no wracking, sobbing thing. Just silence. Just dread.

And in his ears rings that distant call of a livid voice. His name upon Cazador's lips.

Star—

Astarion]

I can hear him. It's him.

[His swallow is dry. Audible. Painful with the rabbiting beating of his own heart.]

My master.

[rebellionyell]

[My master.

Dante was aware that Astarion had been a slave, of course, but he never inquired about the details.

The scars on his back. The uncharacteristic altruism where refugees from Tevinter were concerned. The silent tears running down his cheeks. The paralyzing fear that had him clinging to Dante, face buried against him.

What kind of a dicknosed fucktrumpet was this guy?

The sort of monster that would find itself wrapped around a bullet if Dante had his druthers.]

There's no one else here.

[To his knowledge, but that didn't need saying aloud.]

It's just us.

[He wasn't sure if his voice was reaching Astarion or not, Astarion seemed far away.]

He's not here, if he were I'd have ripped his teeth out of his skull and rammed them up his ass by now. He'd be gumming his supper.

[Hopefully Dante's brand of humor murmured in Astarion's ear could cut through the fear while he sweeps his gaze around the darkness surrounding them for an exit. Shit...Astarion's senses were definitely better, though Dante's sense of smell wasn't bad. Unfortunately this place was a void with nothing distinct to latch onto.

He had to rely on spatial intuition, not ideal, but he was determined to get Astarion out.]

[illithidnapped]

[He feels sick. Racked with so much present dread— with the heavy hammering of his heartbeat in his throat— that he feels almost compelled to useless nausea. To shivering and buckling like a beaten animal, unable to wrest himself away from shackling horrors that should be so long forgotten.

But they’re not.

Nothing is.

So— what is he to do, when the world itself is divided? When Dante swears they’re alone, but every second is filled with the call of his master (who should not be here) his knuckles set with pain for how tightly he clings to the edges of Dante's coat.]

Lead me.

You— [Stop start. Stiff through his own throat.] you have to lead me out of here. I can’t look to help you. I can’t see anything but his memory each time I try.

You’ll have to remember the way we came. Exactly how I walked you in.

It's the only way.

[rebellionyell]

[At Astarion's urging Dante scooped him into his arms, easier to carry him out then to trip over him the whole way. The complex part was orienting himself in the dark so that he could find his way out. There should be a the cavern wall just to his side where they were resting before the fear took over and that was his first marker, keeping that portion of the gave to the appropriate side of his body was useful.

But ultimately he was going to need some assistance to navigate the dark corridors.]

Hold on, I need to give myself an edge [Without Astarion's keener senses he was at a disadvantage and while it might have been a risk with others being so close it was one he was willing to take.

The shift from human to demon was seamless, the coat Astarion was clinging to became leathery armor that was probably familiar by now. The greatest advantage he had was the vague glow provided by his own flesh that gave him some visual rage.

Not entirely in the dark and isolated from his senses he could use his intuition to carefully edge their way back to the entrance of this tunnel.] We'll...find another way around.

[illithidnapped]

[He’s grateful for it, that sudden shift in positioning. He’ll never admit it— he doesn’t know how— but there’s nothing in his trembling body that isn’t relieved the second he’s swept up in those arms, each breath near to rasping for how fiercely he’s pressed himself to Dante’s throat.

It helps.

In so many ways he wishes there were some way to sink farther into that hold, but— ]

...talk to me.

[Quiet. Hardly more than a whisper.]

Please.

[Drown out the rest of this nightmare.]

[rebellionyell]

[Dante doesn't know how to fight against an enemy he can't see, that there's nothing he can do for Astarion's pain other than move is a novel situation. Taking a sword to something, fighting like hell to protect what's important? It helps when there's something he can impact.

If getting Astarion out of here is the best course of action then he can do that much, and fortunately the traces of light that radiated from him gave him what he needed so they weren't circling back around.

He's so focused on that goal that when Atarion pleads for him to speak Dante is taken aback at first, most people he's come across could hardly tolerate his monologuing...but he's not doing it for himself.]

Did I ever tell you I have...a pretty good sense of smell? I mean it's useless here because it just smells like we're in a void...it's even worse than space where at least there's some smells [though how do you describe what space smells like] Like sweet-smelling welding fumes and ozone.

The stars are beautiful though, we see white hot light from billions and billions of miles away...but they're blue and red, gold and orange. Apparently blue stars burn the hottest while red stars are in their twilight years and burn the coldest.

[Space is pretty interesting especially when you've been there.]

When people talk about walking in sunlight I wonder if it's more accurate to say you're walking in starlight?