TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

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[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion smiles his appreciation.

"Avernus. The uppermost of the Nine Hells. Extremely hot. I also spent a little time in an underground forge which used lava to heat its workings."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Lava!" He can't help but laugh, deeply amused as he starts to walk again, just for something to do with his feet, reaching back for Astarion absently.

"That's some Bugs Bunny shit," he tells him, then pauses. "A kids' show I used to watch."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion slips his arm through Jacob's. It doesn't feel quite as intimate as holding hands.

"About a...rabbit? Maybe it made an impression," he says, giving him a sidelong smirk.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

It's good enough to keep him close. "Yeah. A rabbit. Shit, I didn't even think of that."

He tsks. "Anyway, what were you doing there?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, we had a few errands to run in the area. Along the way, we'd discovered there was a legendary forge, hidden away in the furthest depths. We needed the best armour and weapons we could get for what was to come, so, we paid a visit. It was defended by an ancient construct, but it was somewhat vulnerable to the lava, of all the stupid design flaws."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He looks momentarily confused. "The guard to the lava forge was vulnerable to lava?"

Jacob just laughs. "I might have gone in a different fucking direction for my mystical forge."

[harderdaddy]

That makes him snicker, trying to imagine the music videos he preforms for with vaguely accurate fantasy-esque musical accompaniment. "How'd ya keep a straight face?" he grins, and turns his head to press a kiss to Astarion's palm.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, I was never performing," Astarion says. "How any bard keeps a straight face while they're rhyming something with 'turgid', I have no idea."

He smiles at the kiss, and catches one of Angel's hands to kiss his fingertips in kind.

"I'd entertain at parties, but that was...well, not the kind of entertainment one has to write and rehearse."

[harderdaddy]

"Even just listenin' to it, I can't imagine."
'Turgid' sets him off again, and he distracts himself kissing a path down his pale wrist, humming softly in acknowledgement against his skin.

"I used ta dance. Don' get to so much any more, Val wants me in the studio. But I miss it sometimes."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Likewise! It's like defending one's vampire lair by opening all the curtains." He shakes his head, incredulous. "I didn't get to benefit, anyway, but I'm told the armour we got out of the expedition was worth the sojourn."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I'm sure you were a pleasure to watch," Astarion murmurs, letting go of Angel's hand and letting him do as he wishes. "You're...unlike anything I've ever seen before, you know."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"You were told? You don't agree?" He knows he had little say in their expedition. "What armor did you get?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, I wore leather, mostly. Steel and the like is all well and good if you're in the middle of the melee, but if you're picking off your targets from the shadows, it helps if they can't hear you from the next town over," Astarion explains. "If I was ever in a position where I was having to take a full blow from a battleaxe, that was pure stupidity on my part."

[harderdaddy]

"I'll show ya sometime," he promises, and a grin spreads over his face, "Heh, lucked out as far as demons go. Mosta them ain't so lucky." He preens, ducking to steal a slow open mouthed kiss, and then another. "I ain't been with nothin' that looked human in...a long time."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

That gets a laugh. He can't imagine Astarion letting anyone that close.

"Yeah, that's right. Saves all the fun shit for us in front. Though I'm a dead shot with a rifle. But...never really liked it unless I'm hunting."

People or deer, that's left unsaid.

"Too much sitting."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion groans, faux-dramatic.

"'Looks human'. You cut me to the quick, my sweet."

But he's leaning in for another kiss, so he's clearly not that offended.

[harderdaddy]

"A beautiful an' charming human-" he amends, of course thinking that to be the source of the offense. As far as he's aware, between the barriers of heaven and hell there's only humans. As the kiss grows more heated, Angel tries his best to mind his teeth, "That fancy accent, pretty words- you sound like a hero right outta one a my sister's books she thought none of us knew about. 'Least how I always pictured 'em."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"A fairytale prince," Astarion murmurs, amused. He takes one of Angel's hands carefully and guides it up to his face, drawing his fingers up to the distinctive point of his ear.

"I didn't grow these when I became a vampire, darling. Beautiful and charming, absolutely - but never human."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"A rifle," Astarion echoes, uncertain. "Those are...the large ones, yes?"

He's not exactly familiar with firearms.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah, it's -"

He takes his phone out of his back pocket and, after a moment of scrolling, shows him a picture of a younger Jacob, hair cut short and no beard, dressed in his desert fatigues with a rifle over his shoulder. It's a picture of a photograph, so it's grainy, but he points anyway.

"That one."

[harderdaddy]

Oh! Angel flushes, fingers tracing over that distinctive shape curiously, and in wonder how few years (relatively) it took for that not to be a feature he recognized as unhuman straight away? Doesn't help that he has no visible ears.

"An...elf?" Like something from the fairy tales. Or that book with the hobbits and dwarves. His head tilts in disbelief. "Well then, I hope you'll forgive me for bein' one before I was this."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion nods. Elf is correct!

"No forgiveness necessary. I'm sure you were quite lovely back then, as well."

He kisses him again. He's used to his partners being more or less the same height, sometimes significantly shorter - not that he ever went out of his way to hunt halflings or dwarves, but sometimes he made do. Angel being so much taller than him is something he'll have to adjust to.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion nods, his suspicion confirmed - but naturally, he's distracted by the photograph's other features.

"You look so finely honed, darling. How long ago was this taken?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Hey!"

He peers at the picture again and then over at Astarion with an incredulous laugh.

"That was twenty five years ago. I think I still look...honed."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion lets out a high little peal of laughter.

"Don't get me wrong, darling - you're gorgeous, no argument from me. I just mean the beard, the hair. Do all soldiers have to be clean-shaven?"