TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

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[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Mindful of his earlier rebuke, Jacob stands and puts a hand along Astarion's back instead. He shakes snow from his hair with his other.

He's never really looked like this before. Not around other people, at least. This is the sort of happiness and excitement he gets from being outside, from enjoying the company he's with, and not worrying about danger.

"There's a series of rapids and waterfalls that are beautiful with the ice," he says, guiding him along the shore, back where the river meets the bigger lake.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"How scenic."

Astarion mirrors Jacob without even really thinking about it. His shoulders loosen and his gait changes slightly, relaxing out of the slightly affected, theatrical saunter he tends to adopt.

"....The harbour at home would freeze solid, most winters," he recalls. "Trade by river and sea was the city's lifeblood, so it was a test of most merchants' resilience. There would be festivals on the day the ice began to break up."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He eagerly leads him around the shore, over to a louder part of the lake where the river empties into it. They walk a slight incline, up and over the water, where, down below, the rapids rage, water fighting with clumps of ice from higher in the mountains.

"Sounds like a good time. Did you go? What were they like?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Loud. Inebriated, by the time I got to them," Astarion chuckles, darkly. "I would sometimes go after dark. There were sailors, travelling traders having one last hurrah before leaving town. It was good hunting."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He curls an arm around him with a laugh, holding him closer. "Like fish in a barrel, I'm sure."

Not that he wanted the fish in the first place.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Effortless," he agrees, leaning into him. "I got into trouble once for scooping up some minor noble's son by mistake, but it's hardly my fault he was slumming it in the lower city."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Did his daddy pay for him back?" he wonders, kicking an icy rock into the water below their feet.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, he never got the chance. Cazador wasn't in the business of ransom - he wasn't going to have it getting around that pretty young things were being tempted into his home. He just drained him like all the others and then punished me for my lack of perception."

He rolls his eyes.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Asshole," he mutters, turning to press a kiss to his mouth. "Fuck him. Everytime you talk about him, I'm glad hes fucking off somewhere else,"

He won't mention how his body tenses at the man's name, how he feels so much anger that it threatens to spill out through a clenched jw at just the hint of his name and the memory of those fingers in his neck.

[sixfeetofdirt]

He doesn't have to mention it at all. Astarion is close enough that he can feel it. Close enough that Jacob can see the tension in his own jaw, the way that the muscles there tighten and flex.

"...I really shouldn't talk about him at all. He disposed of me in grand style, and now he's realms away."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Then let's not talk about him." He's more than happy to stand and watch the water as the wind picks up, his arm still around him.

"Used to be I didn't think I'd ever be cold like this again. Then we moved here and it's cold as fuck most of the year, but - I like it better than the heat."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I think I agree," Astarion says. "At least, when I can throw on another layer or two. I've experienced real heat, and - there's really not very much you can do to get more comfortable."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah. We had our uniforms, so it wasn't like we could do much else. People were out there dropping like flies."

He turns a little, looking up the mountain. "Where'd your heat come from? The uh...the hells?"

He's trying!

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion smiles his appreciation.

"Avernus. The uppermost of the Nine Hells. Extremely hot. I also spent a little time in an underground forge which used lava to heat its workings."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Lava!" He can't help but laugh, deeply amused as he starts to walk again, just for something to do with his feet, reaching back for Astarion absently.

"That's some Bugs Bunny shit," he tells him, then pauses. "A kids' show I used to watch."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion slips his arm through Jacob's. It doesn't feel quite as intimate as holding hands.

"About a...rabbit? Maybe it made an impression," he says, giving him a sidelong smirk.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

It's good enough to keep him close. "Yeah. A rabbit. Shit, I didn't even think of that."

He tsks. "Anyway, what were you doing there?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, we had a few errands to run in the area. Along the way, we'd discovered there was a legendary forge, hidden away in the furthest depths. We needed the best armour and weapons we could get for what was to come, so, we paid a visit. It was defended by an ancient construct, but it was somewhat vulnerable to the lava, of all the stupid design flaws."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He looks momentarily confused. "The guard to the lava forge was vulnerable to lava?"

Jacob just laughs. "I might have gone in a different fucking direction for my mystical forge."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Likewise! It's like defending one's vampire lair by opening all the curtains." He shakes his head, incredulous. "I didn't get to benefit, anyway, but I'm told the armour we got out of the expedition was worth the sojourn."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"You were told? You don't agree?" He knows he had little say in their expedition. "What armor did you get?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, I wore leather, mostly. Steel and the like is all well and good if you're in the middle of the melee, but if you're picking off your targets from the shadows, it helps if they can't hear you from the next town over," Astarion explains. "If I was ever in a position where I was having to take a full blow from a battleaxe, that was pure stupidity on my part."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

That gets a laugh. He can't imagine Astarion letting anyone that close.

"Yeah, that's right. Saves all the fun shit for us in front. Though I'm a dead shot with a rifle. But...never really liked it unless I'm hunting."

People or deer, that's left unsaid.

"Too much sitting."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"A rifle," Astarion echoes, uncertain. "Those are...the large ones, yes?"

He's not exactly familiar with firearms.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah, it's -"

He takes his phone out of his back pocket and, after a moment of scrolling, shows him a picture of a younger Jacob, hair cut short and no beard, dressed in his desert fatigues with a rifle over his shoulder. It's a picture of a photograph, so it's grainy, but he points anyway.

"That one."