Astarion Ancunín

Astarion groans.

"Strategy is what the rest of the group is for," he says with feeling. "I'll cooperate and survive but strategy is not my strong suit."

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"It doesn't have to be. Leave that to me and Ro and you come in and save our asses," he teases. "Hey, what are you getting her for our holiday?"

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"Never you mind what I'm getting her," Astarion says lightly. "I'm...not very good at choosing gifts for people, but - I think she'll like it, and that's all I'm going to say."

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"Ass." He turns a but more to the east on instinct and another clearing appears close by. Another chance at the quail.

"Just for that, you can scatter them this time."

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"I can't tell you what I'm getting for her because it's related to what I'm getting for you," Astarion huffs, dreadfully put-upon, but then falls silent and crouches to pick up a stone. A few moments to listen for where the sounds of activity are densest, and then a pebble thrown into the bushes.

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He grins and readies his bow. This time, he manages to get one in a fluid movement, right through the middle. He's not as quick, so that one is enough for him.

"Piece of shit bird..."

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Astarion giggles.

"A good shot, though. What do you have against quail?"

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"They fly too fast," he says, then glares playfully at him. "What the fuck are you cackling at?"

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"Just your frustrations at such tiny creatures, Jacob." Astarion kisses his cheek.

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He rolls his eyes and stands up, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright. Now see if you can hit them right out of the trees."

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"Stationary targets? Traditionally you start with the easy things and move on to the challenge," Astarion tsks, but he's grinning, looking around for a likely branch as he readies his next arrow.

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"This isn't a video game," he laughs. "We found the quail first."

He doesn't ready himself, watching Astarion's face instead. "Besides, you have to shoot through the branches."

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"Oh, is that all?"

He looks around, focusing on the trees, until he sees a few round little shapes huddled together - pheasant? Partridge? He's never been good at telling them apart.

"There," he murmurs, then takes aim and looses the arrow. It's not the cleanest kill - the shaft skims a branch on the way there, and the illusory bird is fluttering wildly all the way down - but it's definitely not getting back up again.

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He tsks.

"Eight out of ten. You fucked the landing," he says with a laugh, then takes off his bow.

"My turn."

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"Oh, you're scoring now? Whatever will the winner take?" Astarion asks, batting his eyelashes at Jacob.

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"Winner gets to pick what we do next," Jacob tells him, searching through the trees as they walk. "But I'm the one who gets to decide the scores, so your chances aren't looking good."

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Astarion sighs, deeply put-upon.

"You're terribly lucky I like you so much, Jacob."

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How is your new pairing going?

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I can't really tell yet. He's a priest.

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A priest of what?

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'The Light'. Vague, isn't it? He's from some world I'm not familiar with.

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Oh god. Usually when they're that vague, there's a conquest of some kind not far behind.

How's he been with you?

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He asks a lot of questions. Started reading my file, then decided he didn't have the constitution for the whole thing and asked me to explain myself to him instead.

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Have you read your file?

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