sixfeetofdirt | TLV: IC Contact

"Okay first of all, I'm not sure how far you think I can throw you, but it's not deep enough that swimming would be a problem."

Only first of all so she can get it out of the way, because: "Second of all, that's bullshit. Is this the Johann that's here?"

"That was here," Astarion corrects gently. He left with surprisingly little fanfare, really. "But yes, it was he."

Well that's annoying. She frowns, and glances up from looking for another rock to finish off their little impromptu contest.

"I could actually teach you sometime," she says instead. "I'm decent."

"I'd like that. And it's rather easy to teach someone who can't drown, I imagine."

He picks up a stone near his foot and offers it to her.

"Not how I generally rate my teaching ability," she huffs, but she accepts the stone, and hesitates, looking over at him.

"Look, I know - it's been rough for you. Lately." And she's well aware he won't want to talk to her about it. "You're not doing anything ill advised to try to work it out, are you?"

Astarion tucks his hands in his pockets and looks out across the water.

"'Ill-advised' like what, darling?"

She'll take that as a yes.

"Anything you wouldn't want to try to explain to Jacob."

"Then no. I'm not doing anything Ill-advised."

He is, in fact, not doing....anything, really. Not unless he's invited to. All his ideas are pretty terrible!

She raises an eyebrow, hesitates a moment.

Then tries, "Or to me?"

Astarion sighs and looks away.

"...I don't think there's anything I can 'work out'," he says. "I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I knew what would keep me safe. I was wrong, and I have some grotesque memories to show for it. Can that be worked out?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

She doesn't know yet herself, not for the things she struggles under the weight of, not whatever Astarion hasn't told her.

But: "Sometimes people do things that won't work it out, though, because they're angry or guilty or tired and it feels good. Or they hope it will."

"I know. I've explored my fair share of...what do you call them? 'Coping mechanisms'."

He's not using finger quotes, but it's very clear this is a term he's learned on the Barge.

"Just...not this time."

She frowns, and chucks her stone this time. Not trying to skip it, just throwing it as far as she can out into the waves.

"Why not?"

"Partly because I wouldn't want to explain them to you or Jacob," he admits, dryly.

"But mostly because it feels...I...

"He forced himself on someone he told himself he loved." His voice is quiet and distant. "He did that because I'm capable of it. That's not something I should work out, or - cope with."

The first part makes her lips quirk because yes, that'd do it.

But then she busies herself looking for another stone, but she looks across at him once she has another.

"I thought you didn't put much stock in the breaches."

"As did I," Astarion says. "But it seems I'm not so dead that I can't change my thinking."

"You should pick something else to change your thinking on."

She presses her lips together, thinking.

"That's a shitty thing to have in your head, Astarion. Especially since it wasn't even you, or something you did."

"Yes. It is."

And the darker thoughts are still bubbling under. There's the voice that says: Why shouldn't he have done it? Why would he have to suffer and bleed and cry and beg for years, then finally seize all the power he could ever want and show his inferiors - what? Restraint? Kindness? Fucking why? He's a rotten sickness of a person whether he's having fun or not, so why not indulge?

He wants to imagine he'd feel less sick and hollow now if he'd controlled himself then. But he doesn't know. He can't know.

"...I'm trying. To think about other things. I've just volunteered to learn how to cook, haven't I?"

She'd call volunteering a bit of a misnomer, but she lets it go. The point is he's trying.

She drifts a bit closer, within range of being touched but not close enough to threaten it.

"That's an important point, you know. You didn't do anything. There's so much potential in everyone for such shitty things - you and I both know that - but you haven't."

"I know. I know."

It's not easy to internalise. But he's...aware.

"Anyway." He laughs, putting a hand lightly on her shoulder. Taking her hand was fine, earlier. "That's quite enough of that, don't you think? We're not here to listen to me whining about things I didn't even do."

The weight of his hand does make her smile, small and warm, and she stays where she is under it.

"Do you think I'm whining when I talk about things that are hard for me? Or Jacob?"

"Absolutely not," he says immediately, and then gives her a sidelong glance. "Though you do it much less than me, and 'whining' is a matter of duration as much as it is content."

"My criteria is a matter of timing," she answers, matter of fact.

"If a herd of walkers rose up out of this water and you were too distracted or upset to do anything to save yourself, that would be whining. But that's not the case." She shrugs with her free shoulder.

"We can still be done if you want, but I need you to know it's not because I don't want to hear what's going on in your head."

"...I'd like to keep walking for a while," he says quietly. "I - don't have anything more to say about...that. Though I know you'd be open to hearing it."

"Okay," she agrees after a moment of searching his face. She throws her last rock into the ocean, dusts a few clinging pieces of sand off on her hip, and then reaches up for his hand.

She turns it, kissing the back of it in lieu of something more intimate, and then lets go.

"And just to be clear, I won at stone skipping."

TLV: IC Contact

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Fade here?