TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

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[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion trails along after him.

"I can get close enough that I don't have to," he points out, rather smugly.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Show off," he mutters, crouching down as they approach a clearing. He can hear the sounds of rustling in the brush, but he waits, nocking his bow in anticipation.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion just smiles, drawing out an arrow of his own and preparing it. Unencumbered by the sounds of his own breathing and heartbeat, he's acutely aware of the environment around them, the slightest movements, the presence of animals close by.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Jacob picks up a rock, ready to scatter the birds in the clearing for them. He holds it up silently, waiting for Astarion to prep his bow.

He takes a breath and throws it, and the birds fly up in fright, in a rustle of wings and panic.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion doesn't even need to consciously make a decision: he just responds, the first arrow piercing the chest of a fleeing quail. He's immediately nocking a second and just catches his second quarry across the side, breaking a wing and sending it falling.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He fells two before Jacob even fires off a single shot. Impressed to the point of distraction, he doesn't even manage to get one in his sights before they've flown away.

"Damn," he snorts, digging a boot into the ground. "You're a fucking good shot."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion doesn't even try not to look flattered.

"Yes, well. When it's the difference between life and death, one gets good."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Even when it's a big, scary quail."

And he leans in, pressing a kiss to his temple, and stands up. "Come on. We'll keep walking."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"It's useful to practice with small targets. We can ask for some mountain lions if your masculinity is feeling threatened," Astarion chuckles, falling back into step alongside him.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Oh you wanted the challenge," he reminds him, walking the trail slowly, avoiding the crunch of too many falling leaves.

"Not all of us can face down lions and wolves."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"To be honest, neither can I," Astarion admits with a sigh. "Maybe from a distance and high ground, but I usually rely on someone larger with a battleaxe to hide behind."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Like Karlach?" he suggests, then hums, leading them up a small hill. "Everyone has their use, their purpose. No one can do everything. Play every part. Aerith and I talked about that."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Exactly. And exactly like Karlach," Astarion agrees, chuckling. "Loath as I am to extol the virtues of teamwork, it is useful to be between a warrior and a cleric."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Think of it like...cooperative survival. It's a balance," he says. "Strategy!"

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion groans.

"Strategy is what the rest of the group is for," he says with feeling. "I'll cooperate and survive but strategy is not my strong suit."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"It doesn't have to be. Leave that to me and Ro and you come in and save our asses," he teases. "Hey, what are you getting her for our holiday?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Never you mind what I'm getting her," Astarion says lightly. "I'm...not very good at choosing gifts for people, but - I think she'll like it, and that's all I'm going to say."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Ass." He turns a but more to the east on instinct and another clearing appears close by. Another chance at the quail.

"Just for that, you can scatter them this time."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I can't tell you what I'm getting for her because it's related to what I'm getting for you," Astarion huffs, dreadfully put-upon, but then falls silent and crouches to pick up a stone. A few moments to listen for where the sounds of activity are densest, and then a pebble thrown into the bushes.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He grins and readies his bow. This time, he manages to get one in a fluid movement, right through the middle. He's not as quick, so that one is enough for him.

"Piece of shit bird..."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion giggles.

"A good shot, though. What do you have against quail?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"They fly too fast," he says, then glares playfully at him. "What the fuck are you cackling at?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Just your frustrations at such tiny creatures, Jacob." Astarion kisses his cheek.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He rolls his eyes and stands up, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright. Now see if you can hit them right out of the trees."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Stationary targets? Traditionally you start with the easy things and move on to the challenge," Astarion tsks, but he's grinning, looking around for a likely branch as he readies his next arrow.