TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

Comments

[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.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"This isn't a video game," he laughs. "We found the quail first."

He doesn't ready himself, watching Astarion's face instead. "Besides, you have to shoot through the branches."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, is that all?"

He looks around, focusing on the trees, until he sees a few round little shapes huddled together - pheasant? Partridge? He's never been good at telling them apart.

"There," he murmurs, then takes aim and looses the arrow. It's not the cleanest kill - the shaft skims a branch on the way there, and the illusory bird is fluttering wildly all the way down - but it's definitely not getting back up again.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He tsks.

"Eight out of ten. You fucked the landing," he says with a laugh, then takes off his bow.

"My turn."