[He's joking, of course. The map of his own comprehension when it comes to the delicate balance between magic and— well, everything in Thedas, is more than clear enough by now.]
Not half as well as I do, anyway.
[But from there, it falls away, that preening mood. Slips low into something far more delicate.]
...by the way, apropos of purely nothing: you're not planning on going to our dear leaders to report on the specifics of what happened back there, are you?
[Relief bleeds out of him instantly, quick as a fresh wound. In fact, he sounds distinctly offended by the very suggestion, now that it's clear enough bygones are not yet bygones.]
Or consider instead [Astarion starts, pressing only lightly so as to worm his way out of owing a blank check to anyone here ] I could tell you a secret.
That depends on your perspective. [For once, it isn't deflection: the flatness in his tone might even convey that much, given a lack of typical coyness.]
I'm a reliquary of vital information, not a mind reader.
She told me herself. And you know, she’s never struck me as the indecisive type.
Yet here we are: her confessing to me a desire to see you— and you left completely in the dark. No doubt because she’s fallen prey to all those restless worries.
It’s a bit tragic, if you ask me. Wanting something, and yet...
[He scoffs quietly, clicking his tongue as though scolding himself.]
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thereneverwas) wrote2018-01-29 02:21 pm
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[Somewhat mirroring the smugness, albeit to a lesser degree,]
I suppose there may be people less well-regarded than myself to our resident healing mages, but it still suits me fine to stay out of their way.
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[He's joking, of course. The map of his own comprehension when it comes to the delicate balance between magic and— well, everything in Thedas, is more than clear enough by now.]
Not half as well as I do, anyway.
[But from there, it falls away, that preening mood. Slips low into something far more delicate.]
...by the way, apropos of purely nothing: you're not planning on going to our dear leaders to report on the specifics of what happened back there, are you?
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I'm not going to snitch on you, Astarion, if that's what you're asking.
[A pause, in which he clears his throat, becoming a little more serious:]
I prefer to think the experience was punishment in itself.
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Then we’ve all learned a valuable lesson. Together.
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...though I might make you make it up to me anyway. Not sure how yet.
[Without being able to see him, one can still imagine him thoughtfully scratching the stubble on his cheek.]
Got my fuckin' lung punctured for you, mate.
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[Relief bleeds out of him instantly, quick as a fresh wound. In fact, he sounds distinctly offended by the very suggestion, now that it's clear enough bygones are not yet bygones.]
It's just a lung: you've got two.
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Well so do you, mate, can I have one of yours then?
[Imagine such a ridiculous operation being possible.]
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Elves, you see. Completely incompatible with all your— hm. Fragile little parts.
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Grumbling,] we'll see who's fragile next time I have to drag you away from a losing battle.
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[Oh, wonderful. From resolution and closure all the way back into argumentative petulance. Well done, Astarion. Very mature.]
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Maybe you should explain it to the Commander, if that’s the case.
[It’s not a real threat; he’s just tired, and grouchy, and trying not to admit he’s a bit traumatized by the whole ordeal.]
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[Abrupt panic gives way to high, breathy laughter when he presses, quickly:] No no no. No need for all that, now.
We're dear friends after all. No point in dredging up the past, right?
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[The smile in his voice is audible.]
I'll let you know when I need a favor.
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[He makes a big show of thinking. Then,]
or I could just make you do all the cleaning on the training pitch until I'm all healed up. [these things take time]
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Worth months of training pitch cleanup. Possibly even years.
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[He hesitates.]
Why'll I want to have it in hand?
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And it relates to you.
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Relevant in a good way, or bad?
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I'm a reliquary of vital information, not a mind reader.
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Barrow may be lazy and avoidant, but he can’t stifle his curiosity.]
Fine.
Deal.
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[Delicate, his delivery. Like handling glass, all of it.]
Never once managing the nerve for it.
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Not what he expected.
But also not, shall we say, an unwelcome revelation.]
...what?
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Yet here we are: her confessing to me a desire to see you— and you left completely in the dark. No doubt because she’s fallen prey to all those restless worries.
It’s a bit tragic, if you ask me. Wanting something, and yet...
[He scoffs quietly, clicking his tongue as though scolding himself.]
Well.
That’s not exactly my business, I suppose.
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I won't go chasing her down, if that's what you're after. The last thing someone like the Seeker needs is a fat old bastard breathing down her neck.
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