TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

Comments

[greatoldjohn]

"I'm not leaving. And I'm not accepting it, not as you've presented it, especially when you admit that you 'blunted some softer edges'."

He gestures between them.

"What is the point, Astarion? Why do you put every single possible barrier in the way, use every word, every excuse to stop me from offering sympathy o-or even helping you. Because" grumble, "surprise, I don't care who's fucking fault it is that you're hurting. I just want to help you stop hurting."

Sigh.

"In a way that is not 'don't think about it, never think about it, jam it in a corner and never look at it again'."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion laughs. It's a savage, horrible staccato.

"You came to my door, all but demanded entry, interrogated me about why I'm in a poor mood, and then accused me of lying to you. Exactly when were you planning on 'offering sympathy'?"

[greatoldjohn]

Nope, not playing the game again.

"I can't offer sympathy if I don't know what the hell happened. Then I'm just... waving a hand at you so I feel better about having done something and it means exactly jack and shit. So as soon as you tell me the truth, and I know what I'm sympathizing with, I'm there."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Fucking why.

Why does he have to explain himself, why does he have to earn the basic kindness he sees others handing out without a word when the people they care about aren't happy? Why can't John just see that he's miserable as sin and sympathise with that? Why does he have to go into precise detail about what a piece of shit he is before they can have any kind of conversation at all?

He knows why. He doesn't deserve it. He's nothing. He isn't worth that kind of generosity. He's too damaged and bitter for anyone to see him as worthy of tenderness.

His head is pounding.

"I've told you the truth. If you don't like it, that's your problem, not mine."

[greatoldjohn]

He considers that for a moment before he looks at Astarion, nods, and makes a decision.

"For whatever reason, if he made your life better in any way, I'm sorry that you don't have him anymore. And whether he knows it or not, I'm sure his life won't be as good as it could have been with you in it."

[sixfeetofdirt]

It's too little and it's too late and he's wrong regardless, but Astarion just makes a quiet noise of acknowledgement.

"Thank you."

A pause. He rolls onto his back, obligingly petting Aylin when she pushes her head under his hand.

"You really should just...trade me in, you know."

[greatoldjohn]

"Yeah, not happening," he just says as he watches the cat nudge for affection. "I don't want anyone else."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"No? Just me. Of course - I'm a catch, aren't I? Frustrating, contradictory, pedantic, dishonest, avoidant, spiteful..."

[greatoldjohn]

He nods.

"Complicated, erudite... you don't give your trust easily, and your time is valuable so you won't waste it on people who don't work for it. And yeah, maybe you bite, but the fangs-"

He smiles a little over at Astarion and maybe he has just a few too many teeth. They don't call him the Feaster from Afar for nothing after all.

"I can appreciate them."

He keeps his eyes on the cat.

"You make beautiful music and you love your cat. Even when you were hurting, you made sure she was fed and had water and you cleaned up for her. You worry about your dumbass warden when he falls out of his body enough to keep watch over it, and you worry about him dealing with the dark when he comes back and everything goes to shit. You're sweet to Edwin, and you answered his questions on that ship even though I could tell some of it bothered you. You taught me how to pickpocket and pick locks. You showed me what it felt like to float to the ground after a great leap and how beautiful your city looks even when you've felt so much pain there."

After a moment, there's one other thing-

"You lit the torches for me when I was scared of the dark. Not everyone even notices that."

He breathes out.

"If I'm aggravated at you, it's that I don't know more about you. That I don't get to be excited about other things to love about you. I'm not good at being patient, but I've been trying. I'm sorry if I get it wrong so often."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Everything I've ever done for and with you, I did so you'd like me, Astarion doesn't say. I would stab you in the fucking back without a moment's hesitation. If I could take your power and make it mine, I already would have.

But if he's succeeding with the big lies, he can give his warden the satisfaction of catching the small ones. He stares up at the ceiling.

"...John and I wouldn't have worked out. Long term. Everything I said was true, I was just...putting my words in his mouth."

[greatoldjohn]

Of course he did it so he'd be liked. Of course he did it because he wanted John to like him. And of course, most of it is because he wants to manipulate him. He's well aware of that. He's played that game himself.

But there are other ways he could have gone about it. John's done those too.

...honestly, John's expecting those to pop up sometime soon. He's bracing for it. He isn't excited for it, because there's going to be collateral damage, but he's looking forward to when Astarion decides they can move onto the next stage of things.

"And that made you sad?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"It made me destroy my cabin and lie here for two days," Astarion says. "I'm not convinced 'sad' is the right word but I don't know what would be."

[greatoldjohn]

"Can we try and find it or are you not up for that yet?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I'm not," he says to the ceiling. "Does it matter? Is this one of those 'mental health' things?"

[greatoldjohn]

"It matters," he says with a nod. "I don't know about mental health, but I know that if you don't know what emotion you're feeling, actually dealing with it doesn't happen. You just shove it down and don't look at it."

Beat.

"The 'you' being a general 'you'. I'm not making an accusation."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"And - I'm asking sincerely - does that matter? I don't want to look at it, and frankly, all the better if I just avoid all this nonsense from now on."

[greatoldjohn]

That nod is decisive. Absolutely. Without a doubt.

"It's incredibly important. For a lot of reasons."

He settles in and seems to spin a cat toy out of nothing before dropping it for her to play with. It has a very smally tinkly bell.

"Do you know why you pursued... it... in the first place?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"He was, as best I can tell, an infinite source of blood. And as gods of necromancy go, he was much easier on the eye than Myrkul."

[greatoldjohn]

"Utility," he nods, "makes sense." A pause. "Did it make you feel more secure to have a blood source not tied to the Admiral or me?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"A little. And his tasted better," Astarion doesn't mind adding. The stuff the Admiral provides is...fine...but he's never going to turn down a drink from the source.

[greatoldjohn]

He nods.

"In an emergency, I can provide blood as well. I'm not sure if I told you that."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"You have. I appreciate it."

Though in reality, he can't imagine how such an emergency would manifest itself. He knows he can go months upon months without feeding.

[greatoldjohn]

The ship's crashed for a whole year. The fact that it was in a city was just good luck. John always plans for the worst because the worst has a tendency to come looking for him.

"Good."

He's quite for a moment.

"So... it became something more than utility?" He spreads his hands. "I'm not assuming what but... something?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"...I'd never fed from a human before," he says quietly. "Not that he's strictly human, but - you know what I mean. He was my first, and I kept going back. It was easy. I wasn't in love with him or anything so asinine, but I suppose I became...attached."

[greatoldjohn]

He nods.

"And he took that away from you." A short pause. "I'm sorry."