TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

Comments

[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."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Thank you. So am I."

He turns his head, finally actually looking at John.

"...I'm not...used to it, you know? In my experience, something goes on forever or it slips through your fingers the moment it's caught. This is...being here is....different."

[greatoldjohn]

He nods.

"I'm not surprised. The shift in timescale is... difficult." It's why he's tried not to push too often. He slips, no doubt, but he tries.

"Is this the first time something major has... hit?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

Is it?

Mm. The breaches haven't been easy, but they weren't real, insofar as anything here feels real. John is gone now. Will Astarion remember him in five years? Ten? A hundred?

"Yes. I suppose so."

[greatoldjohn]

He nods.

"Do you know why it made you wreck your room?" A hand up. "Which is not scolding. I don't care. We can fix it. I'm just trying to help you figure out the feelings."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I don't know," he says, sounding - irritated, but aimlessly so, not at John. "I was - frustrated. It was done before I gave much thought to the why."

[greatoldjohn]

He nods.

"You were frustrated and the need to express that was more important than the need to keep your room the way you like it." He tilts his head. "But not enough to upset or inconvenience anyone else."

He points to the cat dish and water.

"It wasn't mindless. You still cared more about Ayelin's comfort than your frustration."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I don't know. Maybe? I wasn't making calculations in the moment," he says, sounding mildly aggrieved. "...and I cleaned up Aylin's things afterwards."

[greatoldjohn]

There's a moment where he's clearly recalibrating; that is a slightly different understanding. He nods.

"Then maybe you just wanted it to be private?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Certainly more than I wanted to be seen destroying someone else's things and be accused of throwing a tantrum," he allows.