TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

Comments

[ravenswrath]

"Because you can move in any direction," he explains with a grin. "And because no one expects a fish to be anything more than...a fish."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I've enjoyed flying for the same reason," Astarion agrees. "That freedom of movement. Though I can't do it without a potion from home, more's the pity."

[ravenswrath]

"Have you asked for one?"

He knows the answer, but you have to ask for what you want!!

[sixfeetofdirt]

"No. Truly, until just now the thought didn't even occur to me."

He's had other, worse things on his mind!

[ravenswrath]

"Richter has his faults, but he does give me everything I ask for. If your warden says no, I can try mine," he offers, trying to be helpful.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I may take you up on that," Astarion says, then pauses, thoughtful. "How long have you been assigned to him?"

[ravenswrath]

He thinks back. "Two floods and a breach ago," he finally decides.

"Not everyone counts time the same."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion nods, sanguine.

"What does he consider to be 'wardening'?"

[ravenswrath]

Corvo hums a little as he considers.

"We haven't discussed it. He hasn't read my file and I don't think he intends to. He tries to catch me in inconsistencies, challenge what I'm thinking. But I believe he trusts I won't harm anyone unless they deserve it, so he gives me a long leash."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Hm. Did you ask him not to read your file, or - well, I'm fairly sure he can read."

[ravenswrath]

"No. I didnt care one way or another." Corvo is a private man, but he understands the inevitability of secrets getting out. "He would rather get it out of me piece by piece, I think."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion chuckles, quiet and grim.

"Hells, that's exactly why I allowed my warden to read my file. Not that he's ever really mentioned it since."

[ravenswrath]

"He hasn't? Then what is the point of them?"

He wouldn't just as rather they didn't exist.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"One more thing for insecure wardens to hold over the heads of their inmates?"

Astarion shrugs.

"Your guess is as good as mine, darling."

[ravenswrath]

"Do you - like your warden? What sort of wardening does he do if he doesn't mention your file?" he wonders.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Mostly we either have pleasant conversations about nothing or we argue about my life choices," Astarion says, shrugging again, bigger this time. "I'm not sure what part of it constitutes 'wardening'."

[ravenswrath]

"Is graduating something you want?"

He knows there are inmates who don't care. He was one of them, for a while.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I don't love being on the Barge and I don't especially want to be dead. If graduation is the only other option, then I suppose so, but I'm not hugely wed to the idea."

[ravenswrath]

"Why not?"

Corvo knows why he isn't - he hates himself and doesn't think he deserves a second chance! He does know this might not apply to everyone.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Well, if I graduate, then for one, I'm going to have to work out somewhere else to go back to. My city isn't exactly hospitable to the likes of me. For all the little quirks of this place, sometimes it's better the devil you know."

He glances at Corvo.

"What about you?"

[ravenswrath]

"I'm not opposed to the idea of it. But I don't think it can be done."

Which is as far into that concept as he's ever really gone.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion tilts his head thoughtfully and then bounces his own question back at him:

"Why not?"

[ravenswrath]

"Because I'm certain graduation involves something along the lines of my feeling remorseful for what I did. And I don't. And cannot imagine a time when I might," he explains. "I did what was necessary. No more. No less."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Ah, yes. I'm probably in the same boat - no pun intended. Remorse for the past and some very different plans for the future."

He rolls his eyes.

[ravenswrath]

"What are your current plans for the future?" Corvo's are simply to give up and expire because he's feeling particularly dramatic, but that usually fades.