It's not even that the words are all that funny, but the dismissive horror in his voice, and something inherently funny about the word commune, altogether makes Jedao throw his head back in a warm, deep laugh. The boat drifts for a few moments as Jedao just hangs on the steering pole, looking up at the shimmering curtains of auroras in the bright sunlight.
"What it means is, when I'm finished here, for few decades at least, I will very graciously allow him to set me up with my own damn house and my own damn garden, preferably somewhere convenient to the spaceport, on the same planet as, but at least half a continent away from, his fucking idyllic baby commune slash galactic military headquarters. That way I can pop in and spoil my brothers and get magic lessons from his very pretty husband, and then leave again."
"One or two of them had their moments, but the rest I could happily leave
to their own devices until the end of time."
To say nothing of the thousands of 'siblings' he discovered back at...home.
Starving and waiting and suffering, beneath his feet, for decades. Lives he
would have snuffed out without a thought.
"In case of hull breach, secure your own emergency bubble before assisting or sabotaging others," Jedao notes, in a slightly affected tone, like he's quoting from something he's heard in a tinny voice too many times.
"Ah, it's a thing the station's grid reminds people periodically, back - where I used to live. On spaceships that aren't magic like the barge, if there's damage, sometimes all the air gets sucked out of an area, and you have to get an emergency bubble helmet on within thirty seconds, or else the water on the surface of your eyes starts boiling and the little blood vessels in your lungs burst and if you pass out then you die pretty quick. Correct procedure is to prioritize survival over either heroism or opportunism, because you don't have enough time or air to do two things."
"Oh. Well - no need for concern there, darling." He laughs lightly.
"Whatever history I have with my so-called family, I shan't be likely to
see them again. So."
"Anytime," Jedao agrees, soft-warm with the dazzling sunshine and sea-spray all around them, poling gently to round the edge of another little fingerling of rock.
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"What it means is, when I'm finished here, for few decades at least, I will very graciously allow him to set me up with my own damn house and my own damn garden, preferably somewhere convenient to the spaceport, on the same planet as, but at least half a continent away from, his fucking idyllic baby commune slash galactic military headquarters. That way I can pop in and spoil my brothers and get magic lessons from his very pretty husband, and then leave again."
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Astarion would normally bristle at being, to his ears, laughed at. Right now it's just...well, it's not happening.
"That seems like as decent a compromise as you could hope for. Personally, if I ever see my 'siblings' again, it'll be too soon."
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"One or two of them had their moments, but the rest I could happily leave to their own devices until the end of time."
To say nothing of the thousands of 'siblings' he discovered back at...home. Starving and waiting and suffering, beneath his feet, for decades. Lives he would have snuffed out without a thought.
His gaze has turned distant.
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Astarion doesn't startle, but he does blink and focus on Jedao.
"What?"
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"Mm."
A pause.
"I was more asking - what did you say it for?"
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"Oh. Well - no need for concern there, darling." He laughs lightly. "Whatever history I have with my so-called family, I shan't be likely to see them again. So."
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"Better worlds and better company," Astarion agrees, and sighs deeply, looking up into the sky.
"...It's rather beautiful here. Good choice, darling."
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