TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

Comments

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion considers this.

"...I can't say I really understand what you're trying to accomplish by these conversations. I assume it's 'wardening', but that's rather vague."

[greatoldjohn]

"Let's start there. It's been a while since we had this conversation, after all," and Astarion had just arrived. He looks at Astarion.

"What do you think wardening is? What do you think I'm supposed to do?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Make me a 'better person'," he says immediately. "Or - nudge me into making myself a 'better person'."

[greatoldjohn]

He's not going to nod or shake his head. He wants to hear a little more.

"And why do you think that?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Because - well, because that's what this whole thing is, isn't it?" It's a rhetorical question. "The Admiral sorts people into 'better' and 'worse' and stations one above the other."

[greatoldjohn]

He shakes his head.

"I don't think I'm better than you." Not hardly. "And if you don't believe me, I hope you can believe I don't think I'm better than Arthur."

He shakes his head again.

"It's not about some people being 'better' and other people being 'worse'. Or at least, I don't think about it that way. Not like... not like I'm a 'better' person. I'm not here to change you."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion's lips twist.

"Then what are you here to do? What am I here to do?"

[greatoldjohn]

"I'm here to help you find a path away from the life that brought you here," he says as he seeks out Astarion's eyes, "and you're here to figure out what that looks like and start walking it towards a life actually worth living. You. Not some mythical magical perfect version of you that you can't even imagine."

He pats his chest.

"I'm still the same person who killed my first host because she wouldn't do what I wanted. Because I was scared and I needed to control the situation because if I didn't, I'd end up in the Dark World again. And what happened was I ended up right the fuck back there. If the Admiral had taken me then, I'd have been an inmate."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion frowns.

"Well, fuck the Admiral, then," he says bluntly. "I was already well on my way to that new path. All I need is to go back and deal with Cazador."

[greatoldjohn]

John is going to swear internally instead of externally. Because he loves you, Astarion.

"'Deal' with him? How?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"The same way he was going to deal with me," Astarion spits. "I was going to kill his lackeys, beat him senseless, and then take his place in his damned rite."

He's honestly a little surprised his file doesn't say so!

[greatoldjohn]

We live in hope of progress. Even if it's futile.

"Right. So." Nope, gonna say it. "Exactly not that."

Beat.

"Not because killing him is a bad or wrong thing. Fuck that guy. If you want, I'll rip his head off and give it to you for a birthday present." Christ. Okay. Baby steps. "Why do you want to take his place in the rite?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion squints at him.

"Does my file specify what the Rite of Profane Ascension does?"

[greatoldjohn]

"It does, yes. Immortal vampire god. I'm aware."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"A life truly worth living, to use your terminology," he says, cheerfully. "Free of every disadvantage of vampirism, replete with benefits. I was on my way there already."

[greatoldjohn]

John has a few arguments for that, but he decides to pivot. Go a different way.

"Then why were you so adamant that 'joy' wasn't something that would happen for you?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Because I'm stuck here. I can't go back and complete the ritual."

[greatoldjohn]

"Right. But you graduate, and then you go back and do the ritual. Doesn't sound that hard."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion rolls his eyes.

"Ah, yes. I'm sure the Admiral will be more than happy to let me graduate in the knowledge that I plan to go home and complete a mass sacrifice. I'm not an idiot."

[greatoldjohn]

Right.

"And that's the only way you see to ever feel joy?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Yes."

Obviously???

[greatoldjohn]

Annnd there it is.

Patience. Patience.

"Why?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion sits up, now, fixing him with a look.

"Why not? I suppose you have some other means, have you? Something asinine about learning to enjoy the little things in life?"

[greatoldjohn]

John's not going to answer that. Because there's no point to answering that. The important piece is that he didn't answer John's question. His expression isn't argumentative or stubborn. It's just a little tired as he looks back.

Not tired of Astarion. Far from it. His heart aches for him, honestly. He hopes he can find the right way to explain this.

"I asked you why. Just why. Are you not sure why?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Of course I am sure why. Because - not that you are owned an explanation - because I am tired of scuttling around in the dark and hiding in shadows like vermin. I am tired of unending hunger and pain. I am tired of enduring immortality. I have an unending life and I. Want. To live."