by your own sweaty little admission I refute that insinuation on the grounds that I was making threats. Fanged. Livid threats. Promising to devour those little beasts you call friends for keeping you from me far longer than they should have.
And if it's technicalities you want to wade in on then let me be the first to 'recount' that all of the above was only barely audible over the noise of your panting and gasping for more beside the lunch you never consumed, thus proving you couldn't get enough to fill your only relevant appetite at that particular point in time.
what emotion fueled you, then, if not desperation? to the point where you could do nothing but pin me to the counter and snarl and seethe at everyone who dared keep me away . . . since you're defining so much, tell me: what was that, if not desperate hunger?
but that's not the point I was making don't you dare change the subject and think you're clever!
A predator stalks prey. P R E Y. thematically? prey whines. it begs. it whimpers. it gasps in the dying throes of ecstasy with its nails dug in and its mouth open, panting sweet nothings in Tevene.
you promised to teach me how to pick a lock and break into a place undetected on the move back home
you kill people
routinely
a not insignificant portion of our income comes from your theft and our murdering bandits, and that's to say nothing of our turning in bounties
do not take it as critique, but you have to admit, none of that is particularly lawful, and none of it inspires me to think that "ah yes I know what he must have done in his past"
Look. IF it was up to me in life I'm sure I would've skirted by eternally on wine and pomegranate seeds for about as long as it lasted.
I
assume, anyway. Considering I can't really remember. But that's not the point. The point is holding title in Baldur's Gate is tantamount to doing nothing.
It was only after my death I learned the art of subterfuge.
[Does he faintly underline my love? He does. It's assuring, oddly enough, and sweet besides.]
i never doubt that it will not be my lot. you care for me too well for that.
and you say that, but you did not have to sit through 7 years of aveline complaining anytime hawke so much as thought about stealing from even the most ill-reputed merchant
when did you remember this? or have you always known?
[Gods, perhaps it's because he's ill, but this is so strange to discover. Not bad, necessarily. But it feels like a bigger deal than it likely is, given it happened two lifetimes ago.]
I care for you too well and yet you sabotage my efforts just as effectively with all your rolling and fussing and yowling for release.
[It's toothless, though, this time. More posturing than true performance; he's content. At ease. Smiling to himself in his patrols.]
Mm? The redhead? Oh gods. I don't even know how she ever rose to her position anyways. Nobility in Baldur's Gate would've had her embarrassed and deposed within a day for being oh-so-diligent.
I a
I wore it for a long time, actually. The title. I think it was convenient, in case some trace of me turned up inside the city, someone that might've known would've thought ah well there goes yet another thief or wretch impersonating a dead lord with a little bit of spellwork. Highblood gone and squandered for the sake of crude slumming in disgrace.
I suppose in that same vein, it's possible that that sense of rightness was manufactured by Cazador, but I don't think he'd be so sloppy.
[No matter what fandom insists thanks to cut storyline technicalities.]
[It doesn't hurt, exactly, to hear, for Astarion's gone through so much worse, and he won't thank him for pity. But call the small ache in Leto's heart a byproduct of how weak he is right now, bedridden and shivering up a storm as he reads and rereads those words.]
nor do i, if that means anything. it does not seem his style. though i am sorry he used it. that kind of cruelty does seem to be his style.
you
[No, don't be soppy. Leto frowns, annoyed with himself, and then:]
tell me what a magistrate is meant to do, anyway
for such a leisurely position you still have a remarkable grasp on how to argue in formal terms
[He doesn't draw attention to it, neither of them are of a mind to entertain old ghosts alongside banter or wicked play, but gods know he's softer than silk for that admission. That consolation.
It does, admittedly, indeed seem his style.]
knowing the laws well enough to weigh in on them in terms of judging guilt or innocence at trial is a must. There are undoubtedly some who flunk out or take decades upon decades to pass the exams required, let alone (clever thing) the schooling itself. But honestly if humans can finish the whole course by the childish age of twenty five, it can't be that bloody hard, can it?
[They are rather good at moving on, aren't they? And banter is so easy for it. Though Leto's handwriting is a fair bit messier right now; call that the result of having two fat pups sprawled inelegantly over his stomach and chest.]
and you, the gawky elven teen that presided over them all, all of sixty years old and so very dignified among them
I will not ask if you accepted bribes. I will ask if you still know any of those laws offhand, though. I should make you look at the contract for procuring the horse and wagon; you might have a better eye for it than I.
Insofar as Baldur's Gate goes? I remember all of them. [Fairly damning evidence against the Cazador as the sole catalyst, come to think of it.]
oh but see here now that doesn't make me your contract mule.
[Says the vampire who 1: actually does know enough to comfortably ensure any contract drafted is ironclad on their end and 2: happens to not want anyone else to do it.
But it's the principle of the thing. One can't make it easy. Or obvious for that matter: a songbird doesn't sing because it's told.
[After three years, oh, of course Leto knows what his beloved is after. He all but melts beneath praise, preening and strutting around with his chest puffed out, so starved for it that it's all he can do not to revel in it each and every time it's offered. And for Leto's part, he greatly enjoys giving it, for there's little he loves more than making his amatus happy.
So the praise will come, oh, yes. He'll listen to Astarion rattle off all the laws he knows and crow about all the ways in which he'll save them money when taxes come around (oh, that will be such a boon, and Leto will tell him over and over as many ways as he knows how). Even having him look the silly contract over now will be praiseworthy, for if nothing else, he can insure they aren't getting scammed; literacy is a long-conquered foe, but too much legalese leaves his eyes glazing over.
But he does so love to banter.]
oh yes it does
i share your bed, and that comes with consequences, up to and including your using your skills to aid me.
though if you'd prefer for me to take it elsewhere, one of the regulars at the bar offered to take a look at it. he's studying law.
[After three years, it is so easy to warm to their equilibrium in the language of a plant crawling eagerly towards sunlight: bickering and claws are about as fun as they are fine, but fasta vass, nothing ever quite hits in the tender little stitches of silence quite like the slow slithering of syncopatic rhythm. Push and pull. Give and take. Praise and price.
(But they do so love to banter.)]
hah!
when did you get so clever, anyway? I'm starting to feel as if the scrappy little fighter that I grew startlingly close to is somehow growing up far too fast.
[In other words:]
don't you dare take that backwater understudy's offer.
not just because i wish to hear you explain contracts to me— but because he can barely remember his own name after two drinks. not exactly inspiring in confidence, unlike some
and i have always been this clever, patronizing thing. or is it my prowess in bed alone that's kept you mine and only mine these past three years?
true. I always was capable of holding my liquor and my dignity all at the same time.
[There are tavernkeeps in Kirkwall that might remember differently, but they're not here.]
but you have always been uniquely smart, I'll give you that. Prowess and wits and all.
It's just that you don't tend to
m
hm
let me put it this way, your tongue is about as agile as your mind, but I can't quite remember you finding your way into manipulation quite so readily as this. And don't take that as a complaint. I like it very very much.
It just makes me think I'm rubbing off a little bit, perhaps.
I would like it a great deal, actually. You have more than a few traits I would not mind learning or obtaining, whether deliberately or not. Whether it be your deftness with words or your ability to flirt, your cleverness or your manipulation . . .
They say couples become more like one another as they grow together. And if that's so, I am lucky indeed, to have you to emulate and learn from.
[And sometimes he likes to give Astarion something to not just preen about, but melt over.]
I'll warn you, it won't make me abandon my search to find a healer worth their salt.
[The prickliest, most stubborn way to say 'I love you too much to let you suffer, no matter how much I want to be by your side.' That, and 'I love you.' 'I want more dearly than life itself to be there— not just tonight but always.' 'I've become more like you, despite my glaring flaws.'
And 'I'd be there in a heartbeat if not for this.']
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And if it's technicalities you want to wade in on then let me be the first to 'recount' that all of the above was only barely audible over the noise of your panting and gasping for more beside the lunch you never consumed, thus proving you couldn't get enough to fill your only relevant appetite at that particular point in time.
And another thing, since you feel well enough to go combing over all my mannerisms for the sake of your defense: I do not, and never once, have slithered from my coffin!!
countdown to astarion shouting TAKE THAT!! during sex
what emotion fueled you, then, if not desperation? to the point where you could do nothing but pin me to the counter and snarl and seethe at everyone who dared keep me away . . . since you're defining so much, tell me: what was that, if not desperate hunger?
and you're right. it wasn't slithering.
more like stalking, predator that you are.
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i will not even mention "thus proving".
are you my kadan or a hightown lawyer?
O B J E C T I O N!!!!!!!!!!!
technically.
but that's not the point I was making don't you dare change the subject and think you're clever!
A predator stalks prey. P R E Y. thematically? prey whines. it begs. it whimpers. it gasps in the dying throes of ecstasy with its nails dug in and its mouth open, panting sweet nothings in Tevene.
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what do you mean both
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I was a magistrate by trade before my death, and an adept one at that
[Editor's note: he does not actually know if he was good at it or not.]
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have you always known??
what the hell doREALLY?
you??
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WHAT DO YOU MEAN
'REALLY? YOU??'
[PRIORITIES.]
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you kill people
routinely
a not insignificant portion of our income comes from your theft and our murdering bandits, and that's to say nothing of our turning in bounties
do not take it as critique, but you have to admit, none of that is particularly lawful, and none of it inspires me to think that "ah yes I know what he must have done in his past"
i assumed you were just a noble
i didn't know you worked
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[Err.
Well.
Actually that is a very fair point.]
Look. IF it was up to me in life I'm sure I would've skirted by eternally on wine and pomegranate seeds for about as long as it lasted.
I
assume, anyway. Considering I can't really remember. But that's not the point. The point is holding title in Baldur's Gate is tantamount to doing nothing.
It was only after my death I learned the art of subterfuge.
Thankfully, that won't be your lot.
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Despite the etymology, there's nothing lawful about it.
1/2
i never doubt that it will not be my lot. you care for me too well for that.
and you say that, but you did not have to sit through 7 years of aveline complaining anytime hawke so much as thought about stealing from even the most ill-reputed merchant
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[Gods, perhaps it's because he's ill, but this is so strange to discover. Not bad, necessarily. But it feels like a bigger deal than it likely is, given it happened two lifetimes ago.]
would you want the title back, if you could?
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[It's toothless, though, this time. More posturing than true performance; he's content. At ease. Smiling to himself in his patrols.]
Mm? The redhead? Oh gods. I don't even know how she ever rose to her position anyways. Nobility in Baldur's Gate would've had her embarrassed and deposed within a day for being oh-so-diligent.
I a
I wore it for a long time, actually. The title. I think it was convenient, in case some trace of me turned up inside the city, someone that might've known would've thought ah well there goes yet another thief or wretch impersonating a dead lord with a little bit of spellwork. Highblood gone and squandered for the sake of crude slumming in disgrace.
I suppose in that same vein, it's possible that that sense of rightness was manufactured by Cazador, but I don't think he'd be so sloppy.
[
No matter what fandom insists thanks to cut storyline technicalities.]no subject
nor do i, if that means anything. it does not seem his style. though i am sorry he used it. that kind of cruelty does seem to be his style.
you[No, don't be soppy. Leto frowns, annoyed with himself, and then:]
tell me what a magistrate is meant to do, anyway
for such a leisurely position you still have a remarkable grasp on how to argue in formal terms
do you actually go to school for it?
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It does, admittedly, indeed seem his style.]
knowing the laws well enough to weigh in on them in terms of judging guilt or innocence at trial is a must. There are undoubtedly some who flunk out or take decades upon decades to pass the exams required, let alone (clever thing) the schooling itself. But honestly if humans can finish the whole course by the childish age of twenty five, it can't be that bloody hard, can it?
Hells. Bunches of toddlers in frocks.
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and you, the gawky elven teen that presided over them all, all of sixty years old and so very dignified among them
I will not ask if you accepted bribes. I will ask if you still know any of those laws offhand, though. I should make you look at the contract for procuring the horse and wagon; you might have a better eye for it than I.
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oh but see here now that doesn't make me your contract mule.
[Says the vampire who 1: actually does know enough to comfortably ensure any contract drafted is ironclad on their end and 2: happens to not want anyone else to do it.
But it's the principle of the thing. One can't make it easy. Or obvious for that matter: a songbird doesn't sing because it's told.
—it wants praise.
Lots and lots of praise.]
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So the praise will come, oh, yes. He'll listen to Astarion rattle off all the laws he knows and crow about all the ways in which he'll save them money when taxes come around (oh, that will be such a boon, and Leto will tell him over and over as many ways as he knows how). Even having him look the silly contract over now will be praiseworthy, for if nothing else, he can insure they aren't getting scammed; literacy is a long-conquered foe, but too much legalese leaves his eyes glazing over.
But he does so love to banter.]
oh yes it does
i share your bed, and that comes with consequences, up to and including your using your skills to aid me.
though if you'd prefer for me to take it elsewhere, one of the regulars at the bar offered to take a look at it. he's studying law.
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(But they do so love to banter.)]
hah!
when did you get so clever, anyway? I'm starting to feel as if the scrappy little fighter that I grew startlingly close to is somehow growing up far too fast.
[In other words:]
don't you dare take that backwater understudy's offer.
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not just because i wish to hear you explain contracts to me— but because he can barely remember his own name after two drinks. not exactly inspiring in confidence, unlike some
and i have always been this clever, patronizing thing. or is it my prowess in bed alone that's kept you mine and only mine these past three years?
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true. I always was capable of holding my liquor and my dignity all at the same time.
[There are tavernkeeps in Kirkwall that might remember differently, but they're not here.]
but you have always been uniquely smart, I'll give you that. Prowess and wits and all.
It's just that you don't tend to
m
hm
let me put it this way, your tongue is about as agile as your mind, but I can't quite remember you finding your way into manipulation quite so readily as this. And don't take that as a complaint. I like it very very much.
It just makes me think I'm rubbing off a little bit, perhaps.
That some part of me's become a part of you.
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I would like it a great deal, actually. You have more than a few traits I would not mind learning or obtaining, whether deliberately or not. Whether it be your deftness with words or your ability to flirt, your cleverness or your manipulation . . .
They say couples become more like one another as they grow together. And if that's so, I am lucky indeed, to have you to emulate and learn from.
[And sometimes he likes to give Astarion something to not just preen about, but melt over.]
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I'll warn you, it won't make me abandon my search to find a healer worth their salt.
[The prickliest, most stubborn way to say 'I love you too much to let you suffer, no matter how much I want to be by your side.' That, and 'I love you.' 'I want more dearly than life itself to be there— not just tonight but always.' 'I've become more like you, despite my glaring flaws.'
And 'I'd be there in a heartbeat if not for this.']
Are you really wearing my silks?
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sneaks this into your arms
IT'S PERFECT
YOURE. ONE. TO. TALK. POINTS TO THIS!!!!!!!!!!11111
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