sixfeetofdirt | TLV: IC Contact

sixfeetofdirt

Careful; I bite.

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From:

sixfeetofdirt

"I think we are. That's what I'm saying - there will be a little bit of that. Including in you, and the way you react to me. I don't want either of us to feel like we've done something wrong. That's all."

From:

handleyourshit

She doesn't, entirely, understand.

The part of her that is always pushing, always fighting, always sharp wants to push again but that's not who she needs to be here, with him. She searches his face, eyebrows pulled faintly together, and searches for the sweet spot where she can just... let it stand.

"So you just don't want to tell me I taste bad, huh?" is the joke she manages after a moment. "Alright, I'll drop it."

From:

sixfeetofdirt

Astarion gets that she doesn't want to pursue this, and he's happy to let it go. He thinks he's made the point he wanted to make, and if she needs some time to digest it, that's fine.

"Hells, love, don't even joke," he teases back, giving her a nuzzle. "You are delicious."

From:

handleyourshit

What she hears is being turned down for a second time, and she doesn't understand it - doesn't understand how her method for trying to deal with her trauma reflects on his - but the salient part is being turned down.

She hums approval, the arm she's slid around him reaching up to card through his hair.

"I missed you."

From:

sixfeetofdirt

"I missed you too."

He closes his eyes, tilts his head into her touch.

"Not for nearly as long, but I did. When I was back home, I saw you when I was meditating. I couldn't place you in my memories, but - you felt like home."

From:

handleyourshit

If there's a better, faster way to Rosita's heart than that, she doesn't know it. She smiles at both the words and watching the way he trusts her, turns her head to kiss his collarbone.

"I'll take that," she murmurs. "I knew that word. Damia. I could hear it in your voice. It helped when stores were low or the snow was high or I just didn't know what to do to keep going."

From:

sixfeetofdirt

"I'm not sure how, or - even if I could have managed to do everything I did after Cazador was gone," Astarion says quietly. "The city was under attack by things far worse than him and I - I could have seen myself giving up. I didn't understand the voice in my head that was telling me I had more to fight for than a world which had as good as forgotten me, but...I'm glad I trusted it."

From:

handleyourshit

"I'm glad, too."

The smile is still there, still audible.

"You're not as good at giving up as you seem to think you are. You keep managing to do amazing things."

From:

sixfeetofdirt

Astarion looks like he'd like to argue this but isn't sure of what grounds to argue it on.

"I'm not...necessarily saying I don't believe you," he says, eventually. "Maybe I've just been surrounded by doers of yet more amazing deeds, lately."

From:

handleyourshit

Oh well that's easy.

"Like who?" she asks, easy, still trying with the ends of his hair.

From:

sixfeetofdirt

"You, for one," he points out. "But at home I was surrounded by people who were - of a different class. Literal folk heroes. God-touched warriors on holy quests. People who'd been fighting since the day they could form a fist. To say I felt surplus to requirements among such company..."

From:

handleyourshit

"I haven't done anything particularly special, cariño," she answers, but chews on the rest.

"But you stayed with them even after you didn't have to, right? You stayed in the fight?"

From:

sixfeetofdirt

"I did. Though it wasn't entirely selfless," he points out. "I wanted the parasite out of my brain just as much as the others did, despite the - fringe benefits."

From:

handleyourshit

"You could have let the heroes do it."

She rubs her thumb along his knuckles.

"I think it's harder when you don't think you're suited to it. When you aren't expected to do it."

From:

sixfeetofdirt

"Perhaps. Though it seems likewise rather difficult when you are expected to do it." He thinks of Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart. "Dragging about the weight of your deeds and others' expectations looks quite exhausting."

From:

handleyourshit

She raises an eyebrow, teasing, but gently; she isn't ridiculing him in the least and doesn't want him to think she is.

"Is that empathy I hear?"

From:

sixfeetofdirt

Astarion scoffs.

"Merely an observation, damia."

But he's smiling faintly even as he says it. Despite his many and varied reservations, he does have a degree of affection for his fellow survivors.

From:

handleyourshit

She knows he does. She's seen it. Even if it's not shaped the same as traditional affection, there's the fact that he has never avoided the others from Faerun, that he defended Karlach even from herself, that he included Gale in their camp on that other Barge when they were trapped there.

So she just smiles at him, and when he does too, she leans up a bit to kiss him.

From:

sixfeetofdirt

Astarion puts an arm around her and draws her closer, even when it means pretty much pulling her into his lap. It's a good place for her; means he can keep kissing her and kissing her, hands running over her back and through her hair.

From:

handleyourshit

She makes absolutely no attempt to stop him, given that this is exactly where she wants to be. No, eventually the only adjustment she's likely to make is turning more so she can face him but this is nice for now, leaning against him, taking her time with the kiss, humming her approval.

"You're not tired of being close yet?" she teases, but fondly, when she finally needs to breathe.

From:

sixfeetofdirt

"To you? Never," Astarion chuckles. "I actually quite specifically missed being close to you."

This is hardly the kind of close he was enjoying with Gale.

From:

handleyourshit

She slides her arm around him again from this new position, massages the muscle of his shoulder with her fingers, working towards his neck.

"I did, too. Erskine is a poor substitute."

From:

sixfeetofdirt

"I can't imagine. You must be stressed."

He closes his eyes, sighing in pleasure.

"...Mmm. That's good."

From:

handleyourshit

She likes that, tipping her head back far enough that she can watch his face relax, keeping her progress steady and slow. Intent.

"Seems I'm not the only one there, either. Want me to make a real go of it?"