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.
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.
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.
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.
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."
He eagerly leads him around the shore, over to a louder part of the lake where the river empties into it. They walk a slight incline, up and over the water, where, down below, the rapids rage, water fighting with clumps of ice from higher in the mountains.
"Sounds like a good time. Did you go? What were they like?"
"Loud. Inebriated, by the time I got to them," Astarion chuckles, darkly.
"I would sometimes go after dark. There were sailors, travelling traders
having one last hurrah before leaving town. It was good hunting."
"Effortless," he agrees, leaning into him. "I got into trouble once for
scooping up some minor noble's son by mistake, but it's hardly my fault he
was slumming it in the lower city."
"Oh, he never got the chance. Cazador wasn't in the business of ransom - he
wasn't going to have it getting around that pretty young things were being
tempted into his home. He just drained him like all the others and then
punished me for my lack of perception."
"Asshole," he mutters, turning to press a kiss to his mouth. "Fuck him. Everytime you talk about him, I'm glad hes fucking off somewhere else,"
He won't mention how his body tenses at the man's name, how he feels so much anger that it threatens to spill out through a clenched jw at just the hint of his name and the memory of those fingers in his neck.
He doesn't have to mention it at all. Astarion is close enough that he can
feel it. Close enough that Jacob can see the tension in his own jaw, the
way that the muscles there tighten and flex.
"...I really shouldn't talk about him at all. He disposed of me in grand
style, and now he's realms away."
"Then let's not talk about him." He's more than happy to stand and watch the water as the wind picks up, his arm still around him.
"Used to be I didn't think I'd ever be cold like this again. Then we moved here and it's cold as fuck most of the year, but - I like it better than the heat."
"I think I agree," Astarion says. "At least, when I can throw on another
layer or two. I've experienced real heat, and - there's really not very
much you can do to get more comfortable."
"Lava!" He can't help but laugh, deeply amused as he starts to walk again, just for something to do with his feet, reaching back for Astarion absently.
"That's some Bugs Bunny shit," he tells him, then pauses. "A kids' show I used to watch."
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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."
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He promised shoes, not clothes!
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?"
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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."
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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.
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"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."
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"Sounds like a good time. Did you go? What were they like?"
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"Loud. Inebriated, by the time I got to them," Astarion chuckles, darkly. "I would sometimes go after dark. There were sailors, travelling traders having one last hurrah before leaving town. It was good hunting."
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Not that he wanted the fish in the first place.
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"Effortless," he agrees, leaning into him. "I got into trouble once for scooping up some minor noble's son by mistake, but it's hardly my fault he was slumming it in the lower city."
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"Oh, he never got the chance. Cazador wasn't in the business of ransom - he wasn't going to have it getting around that pretty young things were being tempted into his home. He just drained him like all the others and then punished me for my lack of perception."
He rolls his eyes.
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He won't mention how his body tenses at the man's name, how he feels so much anger that it threatens to spill out through a clenched jw at just the hint of his name and the memory of those fingers in his neck.
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He doesn't have to mention it at all. Astarion is close enough that he can feel it. Close enough that Jacob can see the tension in his own jaw, the way that the muscles there tighten and flex.
"...I really shouldn't talk about him at all. He disposed of me in grand style, and now he's realms away."
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"Used to be I didn't think I'd ever be cold like this again. Then we moved here and it's cold as fuck most of the year, but - I like it better than the heat."
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"I think I agree," Astarion says. "At least, when I can throw on another layer or two. I've experienced real heat, and - there's really not very much you can do to get more comfortable."
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He turns a little, looking up the mountain. "Where'd your heat come from? The uh...the hells?"
He's trying!
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Astarion smiles his appreciation.
"Avernus. The uppermost of the Nine Hells. Extremely hot. I also spent a little time in an underground forge which used lava to heat its workings."
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"That's some Bugs Bunny shit," he tells him, then pauses. "A kids' show I used to watch."
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Astarion slips his arm through Jacob's. It doesn't feel quite as intimate as holding hands.
"About a...rabbit? Maybe it made an impression," he says, giving him a sidelong smirk.
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