TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

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[sixfeetofdirt]

"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."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He curls an arm around him with a laugh, holding him closer. "Like fish in a barrel, I'm sure."

Not that he wanted the fish in the first place.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"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."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Did his daddy pay for him back?" he wonders, kicking an icy rock into the water below their feet.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"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.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"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.

[sixfeetofdirt]

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."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"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."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"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."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah. We had our uniforms, so it wasn't like we could do much else. People were out there dropping like flies."

He turns a little, looking up the mountain. "Where'd your heat come from? The uh...the hells?"

He's trying!

[sixfeetofdirt]

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."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"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."

[sixfeetofdirt]

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.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

It's good enough to keep him close. "Yeah. A rabbit. Shit, I didn't even think of that."

He tsks. "Anyway, what were you doing there?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, we had a few errands to run in the area. Along the way, we'd discovered there was a legendary forge, hidden away in the furthest depths. We needed the best armour and weapons we could get for what was to come, so, we paid a visit. It was defended by an ancient construct, but it was somewhat vulnerable to the lava, of all the stupid design flaws."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He looks momentarily confused. "The guard to the lava forge was vulnerable to lava?"

Jacob just laughs. "I might have gone in a different fucking direction for my mystical forge."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Likewise! It's like defending one's vampire lair by opening all the curtains." He shakes his head, incredulous. "I didn't get to benefit, anyway, but I'm told the armour we got out of the expedition was worth the sojourn."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"You were told? You don't agree?" He knows he had little say in their expedition. "What armor did you get?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, I wore leather, mostly. Steel and the like is all well and good if you're in the middle of the melee, but if you're picking off your targets from the shadows, it helps if they can't hear you from the next town over," Astarion explains. "If I was ever in a position where I was having to take a full blow from a battleaxe, that was pure stupidity on my part."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

That gets a laugh. He can't imagine Astarion letting anyone that close.

"Yeah, that's right. Saves all the fun shit for us in front. Though I'm a dead shot with a rifle. But...never really liked it unless I'm hunting."

People or deer, that's left unsaid.

"Too much sitting."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"A rifle," Astarion echoes, uncertain. "Those are...the large ones, yes?"

He's not exactly familiar with firearms.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah, it's -"

He takes his phone out of his back pocket and, after a moment of scrolling, shows him a picture of a younger Jacob, hair cut short and no beard, dressed in his desert fatigues with a rifle over his shoulder. It's a picture of a photograph, so it's grainy, but he points anyway.

"That one."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion nods, his suspicion confirmed - but naturally, he's distracted by the photograph's other features.

"You look so finely honed, darling. How long ago was this taken?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Hey!"

He peers at the picture again and then over at Astarion with an incredulous laugh.

"That was twenty five years ago. I think I still look...honed."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion lets out a high little peal of laughter.

"Don't get me wrong, darling - you're gorgeous, no argument from me. I just mean the beard, the hair. Do all soldiers have to be clean-shaven?"