TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

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[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion laughs meanly.

"Absolutely not. Their 'god' was a vast hive mind from another plane, enslaved by three mere mortals."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Then it was for fuck all," he says with a nod.

Makes sense.

"We were just - planners. People didn't understand what our work really was."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"None of them? What were they doing with you, then?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"People outside of us. Of the community," he amends. "They were living their lives, weak and dependent on others for what they have and how they live. They thought were were insane for wanting to have no part in the sort of machinery that chewed up humanity and spit out sheep."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Insane or not, they probably thought you'd just built a different machine."

'Chewed up humanity and spit out sheep' doesn't seem a million miles from the cult of the Absolute.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He nods, leading them along a slightly uphill path that overlooks the half-frozen lake. "Yeah," he says with a nod. "Maybe we did. Thought we were saving them, saving humanity, from fire. But we kinda fucked it all up."

It's the first time he's been able to say aloud that their priorities were maybe a little skewed. Maybe a little...terrible.

"We started out fine," he mutters. "All good intentions and shit." But he doesn't sound sure.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion doesn't know the idiom about the road to Hell, but something similar floats through his mind.

"What changed?"

It sounds like it was built on shaky foundations when a cornerstone of the leadership had been convincing a string of women to murder each other and take on a new identity, but...

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

To be fair, that came after.

He shrugs at the question.

"Don't know. We moved. Got bigger. John started to crack under the pressure and Joseph, he - he didn't have patience for him in the same way. I was always the peacemaker."

Which he realizes is a ridiculous statement, considering. But they've all grown up.

"But I couldn't do it."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"And I suppose your followers noticed?"

Or maybe their following simply started to crumble through neglect alone.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"No. The Bliss and Faith and I held up our end. John was recruitment. He was just - aggressive. Sadistic. Fucked up from everything that happened."

The path winds a but and Jacob follows it, leading them atop the hill that overlooks the lake. It's flowing, but there's ice atop the surface.

"I remember camping out here once. Froze my ass off because the cold came faster than I was prepared for, but I liked just - sitting up here."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"It's...peaceful," Astarion says, after a few moments of silence. Just feeling the wind in his hair, breathing in the chill air, watching the water below. "I don't think I've ever been anywhere so quiet."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah. Thought you might like it."

The silence is comfortable, more than the Barge, the city, even his own mind.

He moves a hand from his pocket and takes Astarion's in his own.

"We can go down to the shore if you want."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"All right. Let me keep my hands, though," he murmurs. "I'd hate to slip on frost and drag you down this slope, mm?"

Also, walking hand in hand through a quiet place like this feels....

He doesn't know, he just doesn't like how it makes his gut churn.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"You think you can drag me anywhere?" he laughs, hands back in his pockets. He's well aware of what Astarion can do, but he covers it well enough.

He's not thinking through anything here. Not worrying about labels or words or feelings, just going off of what he wants, right there, in that moment.

He leads him down the slope, though does turn to ensure he is as sure footed as he thinks he is.

As he does, Jacob's boot slips on a bit of ice and the rock crumbles underneath him. He loses his balance, falling to his knees.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion makes a quick, strangled noise which then becomes a laugh when he realises the only real injury will be to Jacob's pride.

"...Ah. Just as well I didn't give you the opportunity to dirty my clothes, either."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He laughs on his knees, brushing off his hands, then reaches up quickly to try and grab Astarion to pull him down, too.

He promised shoes, not clothes!

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion squawks and tumbles down, not able to stop himself losing his balance but at least able to use the other man to break his fall.

"You wretch-"

He's half-laughing, though, as he sprawls over Jacob and pushes him down further.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

The ice turns to snow farther down, which Jacob ends up coated in. He reaches out and grabs a fistful of the stuff, tossing loosely formed flakes at his head.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion splutters.

"Excuse me-"

He reaches not for a fistful of snow, but for Jacob's wrists, aiming to keep him pinned down and unable to subject him to further indignity.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He has a few options here. The soldier in him balks at the vulnerability, and his mind races. With his hands pinned, he can still gets his legs around him. He can buck up. He can twist and shove.

But Jacob doesn't notice the swell of emotion isn't fear or panic but playful affection until he raises up, shoulders straining, and kisses him instead.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Oh. Well, this is a kind of mischief he knows very well. Astarion loosens his grip a little and sinks into him, kissing him deep and slow for a lingering few moments.

"...Want me to warm you up, darling?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He laughs, shaking his head as he leans back. "C'mon. Let me up. I want to show you something else and I can't with my fucking head in the snow."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Oh. Well, that feels oddly unpleasant, but Astarion is better than to let it show. He picks himself up gracefully and sweeps down his clothes.

"Lead the way."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Mindful of his earlier rebuke, Jacob stands and puts a hand along Astarion's back instead. He shakes snow from his hair with his other.

He's never really looked like this before. Not around other people, at least. This is the sort of happiness and excitement he gets from being outside, from enjoying the company he's with, and not worrying about danger.

"There's a series of rapids and waterfalls that are beautiful with the ice," he says, guiding him along the shore, back where the river meets the bigger lake.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"How scenic."

Astarion mirrors Jacob without even really thinking about it. His shoulders loosen and his gait changes slightly, relaxing out of the slightly affected, theatrical saunter he tends to adopt.

"....The harbour at home would freeze solid, most winters," he recalls. "Trade by river and sea was the city's lifeblood, so it was a test of most merchants' resilience. There would be festivals on the day the ice began to break up."