sixfeetofdirt | TLV: IC Contact

"You could have let the heroes do it."

She rubs her thumb along his knuckles.

"I think it's harder when you don't think you're suited to it. When you aren't expected to do it."

"Perhaps. Though it seems likewise rather difficult when you are expected to do it." He thinks of Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart. "Dragging about the weight of your deeds and others' expectations looks quite exhausting."

She raises an eyebrow, teasing, but gently; she isn't ridiculing him in the least and doesn't want him to think she is.

"Is that empathy I hear?"

Astarion scoffs.

"Merely an observation, damia."

But he's smiling faintly even as he says it. Despite his many and varied reservations, he does have a degree of affection for his fellow survivors.

She knows he does. She's seen it. Even if it's not shaped the same as traditional affection, there's the fact that he has never avoided the others from Faerun, that he defended Karlach even from herself, that he included Gale in their camp on that other Barge when they were trapped there.

So she just smiles at him, and when he does too, she leans up a bit to kiss him.

Astarion puts an arm around her and draws her closer, even when it means pretty much pulling her into his lap. It's a good place for her; means he can keep kissing her and kissing her, hands running over her back and through her hair.

She makes absolutely no attempt to stop him, given that this is exactly where she wants to be. No, eventually the only adjustment she's likely to make is turning more so she can face him but this is nice for now, leaning against him, taking her time with the kiss, humming her approval.

"You're not tired of being close yet?" she teases, but fondly, when she finally needs to breathe.

"To you? Never," Astarion chuckles. "I actually quite specifically missed being close to you."

This is hardly the kind of close he was enjoying with Gale.

She slides her arm around him again from this new position, massages the muscle of his shoulder with her fingers, working towards his neck.

"I did, too. Erskine is a poor substitute."

"I can't imagine. You must be stressed."

He closes his eyes, sighing in pleasure.

"...Mmm. That's good."

She likes that, tipping her head back far enough that she can watch his face relax, keeping her progress steady and slow. Intent.

"Seems I'm not the only one there, either. Want me to make a real go of it?"

"I'd like that very much," he murmurs. "Would the bed be easier?"

"Yes."

She digs in one, two, three more times with her thumb, then kisses him again before she has to get up so he can do the same.

"I didn't bring any candles this time."

"Mm - I have some."

In the nightstand, a couple of wide shallow jars with three wicks each. He sets them down on the top and conjures a flame to light them, bringing in the scent of citrus and cardamom. He dismisses the flame and steps back to take off his shirt.

She smiles, and peels off to look for something she can use for lotion instead, dropping her outer layers off to one side and kicking off her boots, shedding her knife and gun.

"Alright, cariño - get comfortable," she bids him.

"Certainly."

He stretches out onto his front, arms folded under his head. Aylin meows at him and comes to curl up on the pillow next to his head.

"She's started grooming me since I've been gone," he reports, trying to sound aggrieved but missing the mark by an embarrassing distance.

"She knows a hot mess when she sees one," Rosita teases, affectionate, as she eases onto the bed too, rubbing her hands together to warm them before reaching to pick up where she left off, even though he won't care as much as someone with their own body heat would.

More seriously: "Maybe she sensed the worm thing."

"That didn't even occur to me," Astarion says, grimacing. "It's not impossible. One of these days I should convince Gale to put together a Speaks With Animals potions so I can ask her."

He's already relaxing, unwinding under her steady hands.

"Why am I even surprised anymore that that's a thing?" she chuckles, focusing on what her hands are doing as she works down one side of his neck and the shoulder on that side, then the other.

It always feels nice, having someone trust her like this. It feels nicer when it's Astarion.

"Don't tell Jacob. He'll forget how to speak to people if he finds out he can talk to Mae."

Astarion laughs softly.

"Druids learn the spell as a matter of course," he murmurs. "They can talk to trees as well, I think? Absolutely absurd."

"Well now you're just making shit up," she teases, well aware that he isn't but yes: it's absurd.

She kisses the peak of his spine at the base of his neck, moves down to the long muscles of his back, fingers attentive over the scarring left behind.

"Is the magic from your world the kind that anyone can learn? Or does it have to be something people are born with?"

"Elements of both," Astarion murmurs. "Elves grasp magic extremely easily. Some are born with magical talent. Others gain it through dealings with gods or devils. Wizards-"

He shivers, voice stumbling, as she moves over sensitive scar tissue.

"Wizards like Gale learn to harness magic through study."

She smiles behind him; he's not someone that loses focus easily, and it's gratifying to be the cause. She makes sure she circles back at least once to hit that spot again, though she keeps the motion of her fingers, her hands and wrists and arms as she switches between them sometimes, smooth and even.

"Maybe I'll have to talk to him too, then. You know how I feel about new skills."

"I do. And I'd like to hope that if he retains any enthusiasm about anything at all, it's magic."

Who knows? Maybe having a student will pull him out of his funk slightly.

"We'll figure it out."

Another kiss, light but sweet, between his shoulderblades and then she's low enough that she can get a better angle by swinging one of her legs over both of his.

"Is that the issue? Finding some enthusiasm?"

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