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."
"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?"
"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."
"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."
"We haven't discussed it. He hasn't read my file and I don't think he intends to. He tries to catch me in inconsistencies, challenge what I'm thinking. But I believe he trusts I won't harm anyone unless they deserve it, so he gives me a long leash."
"No. I didnt care one way or another." Corvo is a private man, but he understands the inevitability of secrets getting out. "He would rather get it out of me piece by piece, I think."
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"Ahh. Well, I can't agree, but - to each his own. You'll simply have to pursue other pastimes."
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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."
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"Fishing is certainly time consuming," Astarion agrees. "Sculpture, perhaps? Whittling?"
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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?"
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"I'm...aware of it," he says. "Have you attended?"
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And he doesn't think it would be fair. He'd rather run drills on his own.
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"Likewise. I'd much rather have my own company in that place, anyway. And whatever gets summoned for me to kill, of course."
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"Oh, creatures from home - goblins, gnolls, bugbears. What about you?"
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"That...strikes me as being a lot of time spent as a hagfish for a rather ambiguous reward," Astarion ventures.
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"You....like being a fish?" Astarion pulls a face at him. "Why?"
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"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."
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He knows the answer, but you have to ask for what you want!!
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"No. Truly, until just now the thought didn't even occur to me."
He's had other, worse things on his mind!
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"I may take you up on that," Astarion says, then pauses, thoughtful. "How long have you been assigned to him?"
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"Not everyone counts time the same."
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Astarion nods, sanguine.
"What does he consider to be 'wardening'?"
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"We haven't discussed it. He hasn't read my file and I don't think he intends to. He tries to catch me in inconsistencies, challenge what I'm thinking. But I believe he trusts I won't harm anyone unless they deserve it, so he gives me a long leash."
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"Hm. Did you ask him not to read your file, or - well, I'm fairly sure he can read."
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Astarion chuckles, quiet and grim.
"Hells, that's exactly why I allowed my warden to read my file. Not that he's ever really mentioned it since."
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