Jacob's ready this time as he pulls back the arrow, choosing a bird to the left. He lets the arrow fly, watching as it does exactly what Astarion said - taking down multiple targets after he hits the first.
"Holy shit," he breathes, not even bothering to hide his admiration.
He takes the arrow and inspects it, frowning in thought.
"Alright."
He draws the bow back, letting it fly into the clearing. But when he turns to ask Astarion about what was supposed to happen, he's suddenly in the fucking clearing.
"Yeah," he agrees with a smile. "I like trying new shit, too. I have - I don't know. I have my routine and everything, but it's hard to shift things around sometimes."
"Why?" Astarion wonders. He became a creature of habit when he had no other
choice, when his habits were forced upon him, but now he's here his
behaviour is rather aimless. Is it so different for Jacob?
"Hm. I...have to admit, I feel the precise opposite," Astarion says. "I
don't...I can't stand it when things are predictable. I know I complain
about the floods and so on, but without them, I'm sure I'd have gone mad."
There's something a little manic in his giggle. "Isn't that peculiar?"
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"No, no. At home, I'd just buy them."
Astarion draws an arrow which has a pointed loop at its tip.
"An Arrow of Many Targets. It strikes its first quarry, then a further three close by."
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He takes the arrow and inspects the tip.
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"Magic," Astarion says with a shrug. "I'm no artificer. I just kill things with them."
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"Well, let's go have some fun."
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Astarion grins in answer. It doesn't take long to hear the shuffling of avian life in the undergrowth.
"Aim to the target furthest to the left or right," he advises, and then tosses a pebble into the bushes.
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"Holy shit," he breathes, not even bothering to hide his admiration.
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Astarion giggles delightedly, watching not one but four birds drop back to earth.
"They're very useful."
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"The downside is that the subsequent strikes don't do as much damage as the first. But in a pack of wild dogs, say, it can make quite a difference."
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He trots through the clearing and finds the bird, pulling the arrow from it.
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"During our misadventure? Enough that I would have a few decent arrows on me," Astarion chuckles. "Smokepowder was more useful with humanoids."
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He hands the arrow back to him.
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Astarion tucks it back in the quiver.
"Don't tell me you've never hurled an explosive at someone who was giving you trouble, Jacob."
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"Ah, well. It's a similar experience for the wretched souls at the receiving end, I'm sure."
After some rummaging, he produces an arrow with a small glass bulb at its tip, filled with something blue and shimmering.
"Try this one. Just aim at an open space."
It's an Arrow of Transposition, that will have him teleporting to the spot the arrow lands, but he's not going to tell him that.
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"Alright."
He draws the bow back, letting it fly into the clearing. But when he turns to ask Astarion about what was supposed to happen, he's suddenly in the fucking clearing.
"What the fuck?!" he calls out, looking around.
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Astarion laughs - actually laughs, rather than his usual high giggle.
"An Arrow of Transposition!" he calls, as he closes the distance between them more conventionally. "Useful for crossing ravines and the like."
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"You asshole! What if I shot it up a tree?"
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Astarion plasters himself close and kisses his cheek.
"I told you not to! But if you'd ignored me, well, you'd have had to test your balance."
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"I prefer watching you," he murmurs. "Especially when I can see you trying new things."
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"Why?" Astarion wonders. He became a creature of habit when he had no other choice, when his habits were forced upon him, but now he's here his behaviour is rather aimless. Is it so different for Jacob?
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He rubs the back of his neck.
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"Hm. I...have to admit, I feel the precise opposite," Astarion says. "I don't...I can't stand it when things are predictable. I know I complain about the floods and so on, but without them, I'm sure I'd have gone mad."
There's something a little manic in his giggle. "Isn't that peculiar?"
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