TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

Comments

[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."

[greatoldjohn]

Right, good, he'll nod.

"I want you to live too. More than anything. Genuinely."

He means every word. Every one.

"But what about that ritual makes it the only way you'll ever be able to have those things?"

He's not going to leave it at that, because he'll try to make sure it's clear.

"Killing Cazador doesn't require that; I wasn't kidding earlier. I can remove the brain worm, and if you don't want it to be me, I'll find someone you feel comfortable with. I said you could have my deal, which means you could always stop being a vampire. There's dozens of worlds to choose from here. So why is that the only way?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Because, darling, I want to be powerful beyond all imagination. None of your alternatives will give me that. Is it really so difficult to understand?"

[greatoldjohn]

"And," he says very gently, "why do you think that is the only way to live happily, Astarion?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh." He barks a laugh. "I don't. I'm sure all manner of peasants, servants and labourers are living lives of perfect contentment. But that is not for me.

"Because," pre-empting the question, "I am done. I am done living in fear of anyone else with the power to bend me to their whim. Is that what you wanted? Do you think this constitutes some kind of confession?"

[greatoldjohn]

He shakes his head and- Christ, no that's not what he wanted. He closes his eyes and looks genuinely pained.

"That's not a new life, Astarion. That isn't going to make you safe. Or happy.

"It's just a prettier cage."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I disagree!" There's something sharp and brittle about Astarion's affect now, a smile on his face that could cut glass. "A cage requires a jailer. I would not tolerate any such thing if I had the power to break my chains."

[greatoldjohn]

"You think making a deal with a devil will 'break' your chains, Astarion?" He isn't pushing hard but he's watching him. "You think becoming Cazador will free you of him?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Killing Cazador will free me of him," Astarion says, smile vanishing. "Hanging him from the noose he made for me will not make me become him."

[greatoldjohn]

He's glad the smile is gone.

"This isn't about killing him. We've already talked about killing him. This is about you... falling into a trap... made for him, a devil's bargain that you haven't even read the fine print on. And there is always fine print. Because you're both making exactly the same mistake."

And he can't help but shake his head.

"There is always bigger fish, Astarion. And the bigger you get, the bigger the fish who notice you. And then you're in the same fucking position as before, only this time you literally agreed to put the chains on yourself because the allure of a perfect, easy solution made you blind to the danger."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion scoffs.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take, warden."

[greatoldjohn]

"It's not a risk, Astarion: it's a certainty." A snort. "And you'd realize that if you were thinking with anything other than your fear and your anger."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Fine! Fine. It is a certainty that I am willing to accept.

[greatoldjohn]

"Which is why you're not going anywhere," he says with a shake of his head. "Like I said: getting you out of here is getting you on the path to a new life, not the old one with a new fiery aesthetic."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"We did start this conversation with me pointing out that the Admiral wouldn't let me go," Astarion says. He settles back down, one hand tucked behind his head, the other reaching to stroke Aylin as she comes to sprawl across his stomach. "So this has all been a waste of our time, hasn't it?"

[greatoldjohn]

"No, not at all," and John's voice does sound renewed, "The farthest thing from it. We're finally making some progress."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Ugh. Why exactly would you categorise this as 'progress'?"

[greatoldjohn]

"Because now I know where to actually start," he says, just south of 'cheerful'. Cheerful would be cruel right now. Astarion just lost someone. But he's positive. "And why we were paired."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh? I assume we were paired because the Admiral doesn't like you." A pause. "Or me."

[greatoldjohn]

"If it's anything, I got you because he knows I'm not in a hurry. And this will go at it's own pace."

He looks to Astarion.

"Do you want to be free?" He holds up a finger. "Don't joke. Don't avoid it. Don't tell me 'Of course, darling, haven't I been saying that?'" and it's actually a pretty good impression other than obviously being John's voice. The cadence and the tone are right. "No bullshit: do you actually want to be free? Genuinely free?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion's mouth pinches in irritation.

"I have been saying that," he says. "It's not my fault that your definition of 'freedom' is nothing like mine."

[greatoldjohn]

There are many many snide things he wants to say right now. He's too pleased with the progress to say them.

Also, still... losing people sucks.

"I'm waiting for your answer, Astarion. Yes or no."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Nine Hells, you have my answer," he snaps. "Yes."

[greatoldjohn]

That gets a nod from him.

"And are you willing to work with me, trust that I want to get you the fuck out of here even if you might not understand why I'm insisting on something?"