illithidnapped

You should, unless you want your new best friend to be overwhelming suspicion. [Which, as far as Astarion can tell, busy uncorking a dusty bottle of wine, Emet-Selch seems hellbent on ensuring with all that needless dignity of his.

Of all the flaws to have....]

Truth be damned, you’re the one that’s stuck here; the consequences of this aren’t going to go away unless you plan on personally making friends with everyone in Riftwatch— which, I might add, tall order now that everyone knows you’ve had a hand in planetary genocide.

[Just saying.

Still, he cocks an ear as he pours them both a glass of wine. Local swill, nothing pretty this time; this isn’t a cause worth celebrating.]

....how so?

It would do me little better to continue dragging it out in such a way, you know.

[It's the way of things when beaten to the punch. Anything that follows is a necessary deflection, and given the answers to some of the most likely questions, he prefers not to have them asked in public.

Once the wine is poured, he takes one of the glasses and takes a long sip before he answers that last question; it's not one that he ever intended to answer before, truthfully. Not when he is what he is, not when this place has such a healthy fear of creatures which possess others' bodies. It would be all too easy for anyone who knew to spark even more suspicion.

...considering that someone could very well do that now, though, has already called him possessor, there's less reason to play it so close. So, with a sigh:]

Possession is a necessity for my kind-- if we care to be perceived by the mortal eye, at the least. As they cannot see us in our natural form, it is necessary to take a host body as a vessel.

Oh for the love of—

[Really, Emet-Selch.

The look Astarion angles across the table, just over the rim of his own cup, is well beyond the point of absolute exasperation.]

Is there anything else, then? Anything at all you’d like to confess that’s going to make the whole of Riftwatch turn on you at the drop of a hat while I have you sheltered under my own damn roof?

No, I do believe that's more or less everything on that level.

[A more tired sort of exasperation, there, before he takes another drink, gaze dropping to the glass for the moment.]

I expect the only way it would be worse would be to have done anything here, or to be accused of blood magic on top of it all-- still manageable this way, to a degree, but this must be one of the least hospitable worlds I could have been pulled into.

[After that, though, he glances back up to Astarion.]

But as you say-- you do harbor me, for the moment. Unless you would have me leave.

Edited (forgot part of the tag,) 2021-10-08 19:48 (UTC)

I should.

[He sucks on the edge of one sharp fang as he says it, lips twisted with disapproval over the entire situation from top to bottom.]

Already risking enough existing as a creature of my own....proclivities. But no, my dear. No point in putting you out now. If someone’s tailing you, they’ll have already known where you went.

Besides, it might work out better for the both of us: me keeping an eye on you. Making sure you’re not going to ‘betray’ us.

Because I already know you won’t.

Edited 2021-10-09 02:48 (UTC)

[It wouldn't be too late to save face by kicking him out, he's sure. It's been short enough a time to have had a short conversation and be dismissed.

Another drink, nearly finishing the glass by now, before he exhales a sigh.]

I won't, no. What else am I to do, throw my lot in with someone who would doubtless betray any promises made in the process? I am aware of how this works-- I have done it. I've no need of that sort of power now.

[They're all stuck with him here, and they're all just going to have to work some things out, clearly.]

Much as I am sure they wouldn't believe me if I said so, all that I mean to do here is live.

[Save face? Maybe. But a contact is a contact is a contact— particularly after what’s been said across the crystals today. If Astarion wanted to feign absolute innocence, he’d have been smart and shut the door in the ascian’s face.

He didn’t.]

Giving up on the old dream? [Astarion asks, head cocking faintly to one side.]

You know, given the nature of the Fade, it might not actually be impossible to get something of your old world back.

...They proved their right to inherit the world as it exists now, I should think.

[-through killing him, specifically. He shrugs one shoulder.]

I have no intent of returning to my previous role or efforts there, no, but-- do explain further.

Dreams, memories affecting reality. I’m no expert, and don’t expect me to have done all the footwork in terms of research [ after all, Astarion is quite clear about which division he regards with absolutely no respect, spoiled and opinionated as he is ] but from what I hear the Fade’s done some bizarre work in granting all of Riftwatch shared dreams. Add to that the nature of Rifts, the creatures and objects we’ve all managed to drag through the Fade with us, and...

Well, theoretically speaking, there might be something there in terms of power capable of changing the world.

Power Corypheus might already be licking his lipless face with lust for.

[He’s watching Emet-Selch’s expression carefully. Unblinking. Red eyes as focused as a cat watching prey on a ledge— or measuring a threat, maybe.

And when he smiles, it doesn’t reach those eyes.]

But like I said: not an expert. No real idea.

...were I still beholden to my former duty, I expect I might be as well. There would be no other answer.

[Of course he would want it. He would be incapable of anything else, of not trying to return or at least to bridge a gap between worlds in some way, of not determinedly attempting to fulfill his duty.

...but.]

But our time has long since seen its end. There has never been a world like ours was, nor will there be again-- I have recreated a part of it before, but I would do its memory a disservice to try to recreate it of another world entirely. Naught but a hollow imitation that would never truly hold all of those who once inhabited it, built in a place which means nothing to its legacy.

I certainly never anticipated having something of a future, after my death, but I am aware enough it will be a waste if I continue to spend it attempting to revive the past. [The trouble is deciding just what living looks like, now. Relatedly:] And besides-- were you not the one who asked if I had forgotten the point of being alive at all?

[The glass of wine he’d been nursing along eases down into a looser grasp, held almost lazily between his fingertips— relaxed. And in conjunction with that moment of appeasement, whatever caution coiled itself behind the crimson edges of Astarion’s stare is gone when he answers, simply:]

Good boy.

Oh, don't you start.

[He rolls his eyes before draining his glass, exhaling a little huff of a breath. Don't you 'good boy' him like that.]

Why I bothered to come here is beyond me, intolerable creature that you are.

[-but he is here, still.]

Because you had no one left to turn to.

No one that’d let you in, and no one you could trust.

[He takes a proud sip of his drink, pushing the half-filled bottle towards Emet-Selch with his opposite hand in tame offering.]

I’m a rare breed, darling. Monster recognizing monster, etcetera.

And a relief it is that you are rare. Enough of your type and this world would be absolutely impossible to live in.

[He takes the bottle and pours, watching the wine splash into his emptied glass.]

But I suppose we both find ourselves somewhat less monstrous these days, don't we?

Depends on the definition.

I like to think I’m on a...brief intermission. An interlude, if you will. Only temporary tamed.

It’s fun, in its own way. Playing along, making friends.

[He stresses the word through the jagged edges of his teeth, proud and preening— and bitter underneath, in the way that he’s always bitter, even when he’s smiling. Which he is now, in fact.]

But we all know it won’t last.

In a physical sense of the definition, at minimum.

[A moment's pause follows, as he takes another drink, before he eventually asks:]

How, then, do you anticipate its end? By your own hand, or a simple inevitably of another kind?

The latter, naturally. As the saying goes, ‘nothing gold can stay.’

—except for actual gold, of course. That, you can always take with you, given that it’s a physical object and not capable of independent want or will. But you get the idea.

[He sips, thoughtfully musing to himself, but the edge of his grin is tempered by the subject. Or maybe that’s just a trick of the light. Who knows.]

It doesn’t matter how fond you are, or how much you want it. The universe, as I’m sure you already know, has its ways.

Best to cut the cord when it’ll sting the least.

...time will always have its way, if naught else does beforehand.

[Of course he already knows. He's lived enough lives, outlived everything and everyone else he ever might have cared for, watched time erode what was left of the only people who remained constant through it.]

It is different, I think, for those of us who are either no longer mortal, or never have been. The brief length of a human life lends itself to seizing upon anything they can, clinging to what they're able-- ephemeral in their existence, they do not stay long either.

Ah, the vivacity of youth. [Astarion sighs, pressing a lone hand to the center of his chest in an overly dramatic show of feigned lament.

And then he moves on.]

Still, pleasant topics aside, what are you going to do now? Surely you didn’t come here just for the wine.

Please. You are hardly so old, yourself.

[Everyone is young to him, though, honestly. Astarion still isn't human, it's good enough.

Speaking of the wine, though, he delays his answer with another drink.]

But I expect that depends more upon you than me. Upon how long you intend to entertain the intrusion, and whether you mean to send me back for the night.

Send you back?

Darling, I’m no quivering child. You’re here already, why would I bother sending you home?

If you want to stay, stay: you’ll have a place to lay your head until sunrise. After that, I trust you’ll figure out just what approach you want to take in tackling all this pervasive drama.

[It’s not a permanent offer for shelter, given the pointedness of that final remark, but it’s a promise he can linger here a little longer— if he likes. Sleep. Recuperate without worrying about a knife at his throat or ire at his back.

Though if that threat grew too large, it’s more than possible Astarion would, in fact, open his door yet again with only mild grumbling.]

I have a habit of not feeding strays too often, after all.

[Says the man who not only keeps a resting place for Fenris nearby, but a set of clothes and rumpled bedding for Ellie as well, now.

Strays indeed.

But pretense is always pretense.]

There is a difference between allowing a brief respite and extending it to the night, after all, and there are those who sleep best alone.

[A shrug, there; he isn't one to make assumptions of others' space, and this has never exactly been discussed. Emet-Selch can handle himself, he'd just return to his own room if Astarion preferred to keep the place to himself at night.

With his dagger under the pillow, maybe, but. That's just a reasonable precaution.]

I do have some idea of my intentions already, but- tomorrow will be a better day for that particular effort.

Indeed. But you should know I never open my door unless I'm willing to potentially entertain from sunset to sunrise.

In other words, I don’t offer this sort of thing lightly.

Hm. Or maybe I do. [A soft, thoughtful— maliciously playful gasp.] Either way.

I trust you’ll be content despite the somewhat crowded conditions here? Not too lowly for your Imperial preferences?

[Asked as he rises, pressing aside his own half-filled cup and moving over to settle down across the edge of his own mattress as an example: between the clutter and the entirely limited space, there aren’t any illusions about just how little there is to be worked with.]

Edited 2021-10-10 05:11 (UTC)

Entertaining the entire night now, are you? And here I thought you were endeavoring to be present through the daylight hours instead.

[Lighter, much closer to his usual tone. But he just waves a hand at that last question-]

I have had far worse hospitality before, I can assure you. I doubt there is much in this city that would compare, at least within my own reach, but-- I will accept the lack of luxury for the lack of the responsibility which accompanies it.

[He's not in the mood to run an empire again, thank you very much.]

[Emet-Selch, you slacker. He’s so proud.]

Potential isn’t a definite. Most nights I actually do get a fairly human amount of rest— provided I’m not toiling away in Riftwatch’s name, or digging up new information at the Blooming Rose, or...

Well.

Far more rare circumstances.

Mm. But don’t worry. I can personally verify that so long as no one opts to break in my door tonight, you won’t have a single responsibility or care to your name.

Sacred earth, in a sense.

You’re welcome.

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