illithidnapped: (45)
Tʜᴇ Pᴀʟᴇ Eʟғ | Asᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ Aɴᴄᴜɴíɴ ([personal profile] illithidnapped) wrote2022-02-03 01:54 am

INBOX II




VOICE | ACTION | TEXT

[previous inbox]
doggish: of fraypaint sumes (happy ⚔ i've inhaled a lot)

[personal profile] doggish 2024-09-24 12:29 am (UTC)(link)
fortunately, you have your head on correctly. you flatter any form you change into, but a hollyphant is an abomination, one not even your good looks could course correct

a pity about the cat, though. it would suit you. thought i do enjoy you as a bat; you're particularly adorable when you're tired and try to burrow into my chest.

(and it's aggravating in a different way. the same way salt and sweet are both flavors but distinct; it's less about shrillness and more about endless repetition).
doggish: they'll finger anything with a pulse (talk ⚔ channel five news)

[personal profile] doggish 2024-09-26 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
we can tonight. i would like that, in fact. you speak sweetly when you're drowsy and unguarded, and i like getting to read to you that way. besides: i cannot imagine this magic will last for much longer.

but you can find out soon enough if my doggish
[hey, that's the name of his journal!] form is a suitable substitute. i  . . . suspect i am nearing where you lay.

[Maybe. Possibly. Baldur's Gate is large and sprawling and confusing even as an elf, never mind as a dog. It's hard to read posted signs when your eyesight is suddenly monochrome, and anyway, scent is easier to navigate by; it's just a matter of associating one with the other . . .

Which is why Leto is currently furiously investigating a pile of offal outside a butcher a few blocks away from one of the nearby piers, his nose telling him only that it smells delectable— and that it's near seawater. That must mean he's very close. Almost certainly it does. Add to the fact a small mammal was recently nearby . . . yes, he must be close.

(It's his first time as a dog, no one can blame his tracking skills).]


where ARE you?
doggish: for an evening! (awkward ⚔ sure is a real nice night)

[personal profile] doggish 2024-09-26 03:55 am (UTC)(link)
i am, at best, three feet tall right now

everything looks the same from down here

but i . . .


[Oh, there is a long, long pause.]

yes. maybe. i see a temple, i think. it smells of the sea.
doggish: why do we keep making them (talk ⚔ kids are horrible)

[personal profile] doggish 2024-09-26 04:14 am (UTC)(link)
[It still takes far longer than it should, he ends up padding in the wrong direction for a time— but sooner or later, a dog trots up towards the temple. He's a medium-sized thing, slender but strong, his fur black with the occasional white markings. There's a rather jaunty scarf tied haphazardly to his neck, the fabric just a little too large to really suit him, and maybe that's why he attracts the odd startled exclamation or delighted laugh.]


where under there?

[He sticks close to the wall outside the temple, trying to be as subtle as he can while still furiously sniffing the air. It's so briney, not to mention all the people and animals and everything that clammers at him for olfactory attention.]

i don't see you.
doggish: don't do this too often (happy ⚔ wink wonk)

[personal profile] doggish 2024-09-26 06:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[The first thing that happens, the very first thing, is that his tail starts wagging. From the moment those tiny claws land atop him he's already wagging, slow to start but building with intensity each moment that passes— until by the time Astarion rests on that rock, his whole back half is shaking with effort, his excitement such that he has to tap from one paw to the other in momentary displacement. Oh, it's you, his heart sings, and he does not know why he's so overjoyed, save that this puppish body has instincts of its own. It's you, it's you, I missed you so, his green eyes bright and eager as he stares at his fussy mate.

The second thing that happens— and that lends credence to the theory that there is, in fact, a set of bodily instincts he cannot ignore— is that Leto feels that dampness settling in his fur. Wet dog indeed, and there's only one thing to do when you're wet, his instincts tell him—

So the second thing Leto does is give himself one brisk shake, ocean droplets spraying everywhere as he grumbles in satisfaction. Then he looks back at his mate, panting gently as he views him.]


Yes, it's me.

[And isn't he pleased with himself? With an audible grin Leto trots forward, absolutely unashamed about how he snuffles and noses at his mate— hello, hello, memorizing his scent and relishing the feel of familiar chilled fluff against his snout, hello you, hello, equal parts adoring and mercilessly teasing.]
doggish: by dogs and i mean i get it (happy ⚔ the man is just utterly endeared)

[personal profile] doggish 2024-09-27 03:47 am (UTC)(link)
[Oh, those precious little chirps. Those protesting little squeaks, not wholly new but all the more endearing with a new set of ears. Leto settles back on his hindquarters, his tail still wagging furiously and excitement thrumming through restrained muscles. Look at how good he's being. Look at how smart he is. Isn't he such a good boy? Such a good boy, if anyone wants to notice and/or comment on it.

Though some of that excitement dissipates as Astarion speaks; with a little bark of laughter Leto submits himself to that fussy attention.]


There is an unfortunate coloring resemblance, I will admit. And you are one to talk about adorable, squeaking as you are. You smell even better to this nose, do you know that? You smell good ordinarily, [he adds swiftly, just to cut off any protesting squawks.] But you're particularly distinct in this form.

[Drawing back a little further, he tips his head back, showing off the scarf clumsily (but securely) tied around his neck.]

Do you approve of your accommodations? I will admit, it was no easy task to tie this with a third hand, never mind check to ensure it was thick enough that no sunlight could penetrate.
Edited 2024-09-27 18:54 (UTC)
doggish: (embarrassed ⚔ huffs huffs)

[personal profile] doggish 2024-09-28 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[The noise he makes to that praise— and it is unintentional, a noise that bursts out of him immediately without a moment of hesitation or thought— is not, hm, something he's proud of. It's excited and overwhelmed and muscle-meltingly thrilled; it's not unlike the noise he makes when Astarion plays with his ears just so, threading the needle between tapering pressure and caressing touch.

It might be written out as hrhggggh.

And then it's out there and there's absolutely no taking it back. And of course dogs can't get embarrassed, not really, but still: there's a little bit of the look Fortunato gets when she knows she's done something she oughtn't beneath the bed. One paw pushes fitfully over his snout, his tail still whapping fiercely against the sand despite himself.

(He is a good boy).]


You're welcome.

[Let's just all move on from that, shall we? And just so they can hurry things along . . . one ghostly hand suddenly materializes, hovering helpfully near Astarion.]

Show me this treasure, that I might drape it around you so we can go.
doggish: (happy ⚔ see you look so much younger)

[personal profile] doggish 2024-09-29 01:32 am (UTC)(link)
[If he could whistle in awe, he would.

He's seen his fair share of loot before, gold heaped in little piles or jewels carefully laid out on pillows, but nothing like this. Nothing so vast, so utterly in excess that it would be impossible to begin to calculate its worth. So much so that it's a wonder to Leto's mind that no one has made off with any of it before— but perhaps no one is foolish enough to risk Umberlee's wrath.

Or perhaps they have, and it hasn't made much of a difference at all.

Astarion's right. There's no way they're leaving with anything less than what they can bodily carry, for this will set them up for . . . oh, gods, who even knows? At least a year or two, but likely so much further. They could get a better apartment, start to splurge on things— gods, Astarion can get the shopping trip in the Upper City he's always wanted. Leto can picture it now: his mate preening as he spends an obscene amount of gold on tailored silks and fine dyed linens for no other reason than he can . . . and you know, it's that thought above all that motivates him. Leto's eyes flick up, lingering fondly on the little dictator himself, his fur smoothed down and his ruby eyes gleaming in the dark.

He deserves this. And so long as they have no plans to travel by sea anytime soon, it's well worth the risk.]


You certainly didn't . . . gods, Astarion, this is incredible.

[There's such awe in his voice as, eyes wide and nose raised high, he snuffles his way in deeper. For a time there's nothing but the sharp iron scent of metal overloading his system, but soon he learns to distinguish between gold and silver, incense and fabric and jewels. The hand drifts behind him, slow and dutiful— though it does take a moment to playfully tweak one of those battish ears.

Adorable.

Then it's off to begin its duty: gently lifting a delicate silver bracelet inlaid with sapphires and drifting over to Astarion.]


I will not argue over carrying my fair share, not when it comes to this. But if Baldur's Mouth runs a story soon on a naked warrior dressed in naught but gold necklaces and a single bat suddenly appearing midway through the city, you are taking the blame.

Hold still, now— hold still, this is not easy—

[It's like trying to work while staring in a mirror, and do all that to a bat besides. He wants to try and drape it around his head like a miniature necklace, but whether or not he can get it past his ears is, hm, debatable, and not helped by the jerky motions of the hand.]
doggish: you're a tool (talk ⚔ upon further reflection)

[personal profile] doggish 2024-10-01 09:30 pm (UTC)(link)
For a time, anyway, up until I found it and burned it.

[A cheerful retort, for none of the thrill has faded just yet. Already his mind is buzzing, leaping ahead to indulgences and responsibilities both (will they actually have enough to open a vault in the Counting House? There's all sorts of tricky things the rich do to make their money grow, Leto remembers from Danarius— and he's certain Astarion knows a few things too, legal magistrate that he once was. It's not that they'll be so rich they'll never have to work again, but at the same time—

Maker, has he ever had this amount of money? Have either of them? The more he thinks on it, the giddier he becomes, thoughts of spoiling his vampiric mate and indulging in his own desires twisting round in his mind.]


Though I might be persuaded to spare it for the particularly cute bat alone . . .

[And there's an odd little moment where, midway through draping another set of bracelets over Astarion's head, the hand hesitates, stilling with a lurch as Leto's form shivers. It's a restrained motion, an impulse jerking that's there and gone; in the next moment the hand resumes its task, and Leto laps at his own nose, trying to ignore that.

(A mystery, though one that's swiftly solved if Astarion has ever watched Fortunato struggling to restrain herself: it's hard not to want to barrel over and nuzzle at his mate whenever he feels a surge of adoration, nipping and licking and snuggling in the fiercest surge of love, but he knows better than that).]


Ask me, though, if what I mind most is being caught naked or being identified as a wizard, and I still will not have an answer for you.

[Another bracelet, and another, and another— they're up to about ten now, slender things that they are, when Leto adds:]

Astarion . . .

[A pause as he gathers his thoughts, and then:]

When all this is done, and we have resold all the treasure and put the money in our account, kadan . . . I want to take you out. To indulge, and shop, and let you try on whatever you desire— and then attend a party in the Upper City and dance with you until they shoo us home.

You have spent months keeping us safe and treating me as a consort, indulged and spoiled in whatever I asked for, and I will not deny I have enjoyed it. But now I want to do the same for you. I can plan it, if you wish to be surprised. Or I can defer to your judgement, as you know this city so much better than I. But let me indulge you the way you deserve.
doggish: so you can come back home again (happy ⚔ why do you go away?)

i noticed NOTHING

[personal profile] doggish 2024-10-03 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
[Oh, oh, those little squeaks. That overexcited, overeager wriggling and writhing and squeaking that can't stop, won't stop, that Leto never, ever wants to stop— they're precious. So sweet and earnest and excitable, and his tail wags all the faster in response, his puppish heart thundering giddily as he endures every bite and lick that his overstimulated darling needs to offer.]

Shh, shh— all your things are as you left them, and I am not ill. Nothing is wrong.

[There's an irrepressible grin woven into his voice, his rough tongue darting out to steal a quick, fond little lick.]

I despise all of those things, it's true. Just as you despise dive bars and fighting rings and pups that drool all over you in their sleep and refuse to share me when they've a mind to snuggle. And yet you give me those things anyway . . . it is far past time I indulged you in the same manner.

Besides, [he adds, lowering his head just far enough that Astarion might drape those pearls over his head whenever he sees fit, emerald eyes still locked on his chirping mate,] it makes me happy to make you happy. Not just in a day-to-day sense, but giving you the things you desire. Watching your face light up or listening to you chirp in your excitement— it is a gift unto itself to watch you melt. Darling thing, you are not the only one who likes making your mate happy.

You deserve this. My only mistake was not proposing this months ago.
doggish: than i thought i would, this is nice! (soft ⚔  i have more soft icons)

[personal profile] doggish 2024-10-04 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[He goes still, or at least as still as he can manage beyond the endless thump-thump of his tail. He bows his head and flattens his ears as best he can, patient to the last— for the mood Astarion is in, he needs room to fuss. To bristle. To squeak (adorably) and flap and huff and worry over Leto, so overwhelmed that he has to let it out somehow. Leto knows. He's seen it before, and now, after years together, he knows just how to smoothly counterbalance it.

But Astarion gets stuck on the next trip, and there's a difference between being calm and being passive. Leto pads over carefully, catching the crown between his teeth and tugging as gently as he can. It comes loose with a pretty jingle, coins cascading everywhere as a triumphant rumble sounds in the base of his throat.]


And what?

[Soft, as he sets the crown down. Let Astarion drape it over his head, for he's gone back to sitting still. His head cocks, his eyes locked on that small, fluffy shape, trying to read a body he's unfamiliar with. The mood is familiar, yes, but this particular version of it . . . perhaps it's still too much, even now. Perhaps he ought to have tempered it, softened it, made it more palatable— and yet even as he thinks it, Leto disagrees.

Better to suffer the preliminary sting of hot water before getting the reward of sinking into a hot bath than to endure a tepid one. Perhaps this is overwhelming, but what he promises is nothing less than Astarion deserves, and Leto aims to give it to him.]


Take a moment. We are in no rush . . . and I sprung this on you.

I would know what you're thinking.
doggish: (soft ⚔)

[personal profile] doggish 2024-10-06 09:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[Astarion's such a comforting weight nestled against his chest, Leto thinks as he begins the (jingling) trek up the coastal path. He sways gently with every step, bouncing so rhythmically that it's not unlike a heartbeat, and that's comforting right now. He cannot take Astarion into his arms as he wants to, nuzzling against his throat and soothing him with slow touches, but until he can, this is a decent substitute.]

Then we will plan it together. Start and finish wherever you please, for however long you please.

[His voice is low and warm. And though there's a hint of distraction woven within (how to get them home when he has minimal navigational prowess in this winding city), there's nothing more important right now than this conversation.]

We can even start now, if you wish.

[A little leap and his paws hit sun-warmed cobblestones, the scents and sounds of a city neatly drowning out their murmured conversation.]

Where would you like to go?

[He has a spot in mind, but he will not suggest it unless Astarion does. There's a headstone. A grave, and he has not forgotten in all the weeks since they spoke of it last, but it isn't his place to bring it up. This is meant to be a day to spoil Astarion, and while the gravesite is important, Leto will not judge him for not wanting to include that during a night on the town.]

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