illithidnapped | INBOX II

[ Drolly, without any sting in it: ]

Only to the paranoid. And lightly sleep-deprived.

—you know what? Fair point.

[And he is both, so there’s no excuse for the tired little snort of amusement that prompts.]

Well. Not to be hennish, then. But I’m glad to hear you’re not on your own in this.

Ugh. Can’t believe I just said that out loud.

Now I know that I'm slipping from deprivation. Next thing I'll start confessing all my feelings, too.

[ Oh. Well, that's - Aw. That's sweet. ]

You already confess most of your feelings. You know - amusement, horniness...The important emotions in life.

Doubly so when I’m around you.

[Its duller, all that usual humor of Astarion's. A little more tired, yes, but it comes from him as easily as ever regardless.]

Something to be said for charisma, I suppose.

[A thought, then:]

Am I allowed to ask how he’s taking all this unsightly business?

[Allowed meaning: will you give him a straight answer.]

[ Fondly: ] He'd like it if you asked him yourself. Not too pushily, mind - he doesn't like to be pushed - but he spends so much time asking after others that he's always a bit touched when others ask after him.

[ A startlingly straight answer, perhaps. Probably much more than Astarion would have expected. Byerly guards Bastien's heart ferociously; it's a gesture of trust to share this. ]

But - He's doing all right, all things told. He endures discomfort with great stoicism. And it's not just swallowing down his feelings; he really does have that sort of stony determination where he doesn't allow it to disturb him.

[It's much more than Astarion had expected, truth be told— and like so much else in regards to this conversation, it's a fair reminder as to just how low his own (incorrect) assumptions had been.

Lesson learned.] Hm. Duly noted. If I find myself bored enough to start worry about my peers, I'll be sure to give him a call.

[One part joke, one part very much actual taking notes.]

Unpushily.

Anyway, I suppose being a bard might've influenced adopting such diligent defenses.

He told you about that?

You're surprised?

[Well now.]

Not shocked. It's not a deeply-held secret. But it's not something he tells everyone, either. A Bard's efficacy is somewhat reduced by his notoriety - though occasionally, it's enhanced, at least in Orlais.

I meant that more as a reflection of myself, darling. [Feather-light and honey-sweet; tired as he is, he's preening over this.] Attractive, compelling...

Trustworthy.

You confessed your origins to me. He confessed his. [Astarion confessed his own to both Byerly and Bastien but that's not relevant right now, shh. He's fanning his own ego. It's like a cozy little blanket.

Or a teddy bear.] In fact, you wouldn't believe the secrets I've been gifted in the near-year I've spent in Thedas thus far.

[ By grins. Astarion is incorrigible. ]

Really? Any juicy ones?

[He laughs, predictably amused by a question he very much knew was coming.] So many— but that’s the nature of secrets, my dear: can’t be told.

I only mentioned Bastien’s because I knew you two were in bed with one another. Literally, of course.

The rest don’t come for free.

And besides, I imagine you know almost as much as I do to begin with.

[ By laughs, and privately relaxes a bit. Good. He obviously had some faith that Astarion had discretion; it's good to get some amount of confirmation. ]

So what would your price be?

More than you could ever hope to afford, dearest spy of mine. [Mild and fond— and likely true as well, given the way Astarion says it.]

The things I want that I can't fetch for myself aren't easily found, and I've a heart made of frigid ice; nothing short of divinity itself will pry my collection from me prematurely.

Is that what your heart is made of? [ A very skeptical: ] Hm.

You disagree?

[This time it's Astarion's turn to sound skeptical. Come now, Byerly.]

My memory is faint, but if I strain, I seem to recall hearing something where you showed some compassion to a few people who were in a rather bad way.

Edited 2022-04-20 12:09 (UTC)

...ugh. I knew I never should've let you live when you caught me in that alleyway, now I'll never be able to escape the outermost perimeter of my own bad decisions.

Were you considering murdering me?

[ He doesn't sound particularly scandalized by the possibility. Lots of people think about murdering Byerly. ]

Mm. Just for half a second. Or ten.

[And you know what? That actually sounds like the truth.]

Not that I don't adore you, darling, just. Well, we've had our share of fanatical rats amongst the flock, so to speak. Difficult to place faith in anyone else for certain, particularly when one's standing in the unsettling dark, plotting how best to keep a pack of would-be— and undoubtably— lucrative assets safe.

In other words, the fact that I didn't go through with it might say a great deal about how much I trust you.

So do me a favor, and don't make me look the fool for believing that I can.

...trust you, that is.

[ Wryly: ] Provide some small salve to my pride, dear man. Pretend that I'm not so frail that you could take my life as easily as just thinking about it. Rutyer men are supposed to be warriors.

[ Then, hoping that little joke has put Astarion a bit at ease, Byerly says: ]

I did give you collateral. You could do quite a lot of damage to me with the secret I told you. So in the moments when your trust in my intentions falters, you can find your footing again by reminding yourself that you also are protected by my self-interest.

[ Was that the reason that Byerly shared that most sensitive of secrets? Probably. In the moment, the choice was rather surprising to him - probably even more surprising than it had been to Astarion - but upon reflection, he thinks that's why he did it.

There'd been a dog who'd skulked around the manor when he was young, a half-feral thing with a permanent limp from having been hurt by thrown stones. While he never exactly bonded with it, it had come to trust him and take small tidbits from his hand - and he'd gotten to that place first by sitting down, laying his open hands palm-up, not guarding any of his vulnerable spots. Sometimes a hurt thing needs to know that it can hurt you back, hurt you worse. Sometimes that's how it feels safe. ]

I won’t do you the disservice of lying. [Teasing as it is, that start, there's also so much smugness in play for a solid half beat or two:] You and I both know I could tear you to shreds in an instant if I wanted to.

But I don’t want to. You’re far too pretty to die.

[There. Ego padded with simple honesty instead. A far rarer gift.

As for the rest, though....]

Still, you’re not wrong there. And admittedly not a day goes by where it doesn’t bring me some amount of comfort, knowing what I do about you. [He means that. Despite the casualness of his exchanges with so much of Riftwatch, there are startlingly few souls present that serve as a balm against Astarion's own (at times paranoid) fears.

Collateral helps. Duplicitous collateral even more so, if only for the fact that at times a spy and a spawn like Astarion aren't all that different. Easier to trust a snake that says it's a snake, than a tactician that claims themselves nothing more than a diligent observer.] Can’t imagine you’ve shared it with many souls here— although it would be particularly clever if you did. Making everyone feel at ease around you with a not so secret secret.

But like I said, I don’t suspect you of that kind of deception. We’ve seen a great deal of one another’s scars, all things considered.

I place faith in that.

[He does. He's learned to.]

Anyway, you’ll excuse me if I flutter away before the nightmares find me. Lots of relentless thieving to do in Kirkwall lately— and the bills won’t pay themselves

Not without a little help, that is.

[ What does that mean? I don’t suspect you of that kind of deception. We’ve seen a great deal of one another’s scars. Meaning, what, that Byerly had provided him with a more valuable sort of collateral? That's certainly not the case: Byerly's disgrace had been a matter of delighted gossip, back when it had happened. Every Fereldan noble above a certain age likely heard of his public shame. So -

So what's his meaning? That the scars make Byerly more trustworthy? That someone who's suffered like that is less likely to hurt Astarion? Maker, would that that were true. By remembers well how utterly his disgrace had turned him vicious and cruel. How calculating and evil he'd become after it all...

But at the same time: he won't hurt Astarion. He knows that he will not betray him. So maybe there's something to Astarion's faith, after all.

A lighter topic: ]

Thieving, my dear fellow?

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