TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

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[ravenswrath]

"You aren't the first person to mention that," he says with a sigh and tries to think of literally anything except his warden. "The amount of fucking on this prison ship is truly extraordinary."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Extraordinary? Do you think so?" Astarion laughs. "It seems entirely inevitable to me. Why shouldn't we seek out whatever escapes and indulgences our jail can offer?"

[ravenswrath]

"Inevitable!"

He supposes that having so many people, looking as they do, together in one spot would make it inevitable. But that isn't the first thing that comes to mind.

"It's not an escape for me, though. Hence - extraordinary. To imagine."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"...Hm."

Astarion's gaze flicks down for a moment.

"Do you not...work?"

[ravenswrath]

He almost, almost asks, then sputters out a cough. "Yes. But meaningless sex with people I don't know isn't...it's not...it's more trouble than it's worth."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Ahh. Well, I can't agree, but - to each his own. You'll simply have to pursue other pastimes."

[ravenswrath]

"Ah yes. Thank you for the advice."

Corvo has done everything he can to pass the time. Being out in the city is good enough for a while, a nice distraction, an almost literal escape, but it's not what he wants. Drinking doesn't help, making the charms doesn't help -

He's in a fucking spiral, but he doesn't take it out on Astarion. He just laughs at himself.

"I suppose I should take up knitting. Crochet. Perhaps fishing."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Fishing is certainly time consuming," Astarion agrees. "Sculpture, perhaps? Whittling?"

[ravenswrath]

"Ah, I've heard weaving is a good way to pass the time."

They make it back to the main road and he crosses his arms. "Have you seen that inmate fight club the Belmonte have cooked up?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I'm...aware of it," he says. "Have you attended?"

[ravenswrath]

"I haven't. Maybe twenty years ago, it would have appealed to me, but I'm too old for that now."

And he doesn't think it would be fair. He'd rather run drills on his own.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Likewise. I'd much rather have my own company in that place, anyway. And whatever gets summoned for me to kill, of course."

[ravenswrath]

"You and I have the same mind about it. That ship is too small. I don't care if it isn't real." He leads him idly through the streets, no real destination in mind. "What do you usually hunt?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, creatures from home - goblins, gnolls, bugbears. What about you?"

[ravenswrath]

"Men," he answers casually. "We don't have worse monsters than that. Sometimes I wonder if I should spawn a river and just possess a hagfish, though. Wait for some unsuspecting person to put their foot in and bite them."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"That...strikes me as being a lot of time spent as a hagfish for a rather ambiguous reward," Astarion ventures.

[ravenswrath]

"I like being a fish," he admits. "The reward isn't simply the attack."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"You....like being a fish?" Astarion pulls a face at him. "Why?"

[ravenswrath]

"Because you can move in any direction," he explains with a grin. "And because no one expects a fish to be anything more than...a fish."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I've enjoyed flying for the same reason," Astarion agrees. "That freedom of movement. Though I can't do it without a potion from home, more's the pity."

[ravenswrath]

"Have you asked for one?"

He knows the answer, but you have to ask for what you want!!

[sixfeetofdirt]

"No. Truly, until just now the thought didn't even occur to me."

He's had other, worse things on his mind!

[ravenswrath]

"Richter has his faults, but he does give me everything I ask for. If your warden says no, I can try mine," he offers, trying to be helpful.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I may take you up on that," Astarion says, then pauses, thoughtful. "How long have you been assigned to him?"

[ravenswrath]

He thinks back. "Two floods and a breach ago," he finally decides.

"Not everyone counts time the same."