[ He settles a little more comfortable in his seat, leaning back with one elbow draped over the back of the chair and toying with his glass with the other hand. His expression gives away little more than mild curiosity with the arch of an eyebrow.
A light shrug with one shoulder. ]
You're not wrong. [ That he's not particularly interested in the subject. With Urianger, another elf, it's a little different. No, with Jaskier his curiosity lies in an adjacent space. ]
I've been this longer than I was living elf. [ Another bitter edge to his tone, and he scoffs. ] I wager that most of my own people don't consider me kin anymore. I could hardly blame them, honestly. [ He could. ]
Difficult to get past the business of bloodlust and fangs.
[ He swirls the wine in his glass, watching the liquid lap close to the rim. ]
I suppose... I merely wondered why you always look so despondent whenever you speak of them.
[The answer is so frank it does give rise to a slightly deflated laugh. It is a struggle, he thinks, that is foreign to Astarion -- for the reasons he describes. The Continent cannot have an elf turned into a vampire, for they are born as such, but... well. Perhaps he is more optimistic. The elves, he thinks, have even embraced those with only part-elven ancestry.
Being a vampire is, of course, a far different matter.]
Couldn't you? [Blame them. He senses Astarion is not very charitable about such things. Or about most things. Which isn't a tick against him, of course. Jaskier is quite volatile in offenses himself.
The bard resettles himself, fiddling with the edges of his coat and how they lay over his legs.] Do I come off that depressing? [He teases, but it's a little startling to know it's so... obvious.] The people were turning against them, as the war grew closer. Before I came here, I was... helping move those that could find me to somewhere safer. Possibly illegally. And often now, I think, if those routes I set up remained. If someone else has taken up the mantle that I created.
[He swirls his glass, then takes a long, long draw of it. Even the burst of alcohol is not enough to slurry through his mind fast enough.] Maudlin. And it matters little now that the war is full in effect. Now I'm here, with a whole new plane to make trouble in. Perhaps by next year, I'll have the queen's head on a platter instead.
[ Couldn't you? He allows himself to grimace, which ought to be answer enough. Here, maybe, he can be an elf and a vampire - both are a novelty to most. In his own world, he's just another monster lurking in the shadows. Worse, even - a monster's slave, fodder for bright shining heroes to vanquish before they reach the master.
Gods, now he's just depressing himself. And he's acutely aware that it's making the man on the other side of the table uncomfortable as well. Normally he enjoys making people squirm. Not this time, though. He doesn't mask the way his gaze fixes on Jaskier as he explains his hero's journey. Some months ago the same story would have incurred venomous barbs from Astarion. He's had no patience for heroes. But - ]
I suppose it makes some sort of sense for you to dwell on their fate, then. [ While there's a condescending lilt to his tone at first - he's incapable of saying such a thing otherwise, the way he ends it is strikingly sincere, and a little sad: ] You seem like you have a good heart.
[ It still feels foolish of him to genuinely trust such a thing about anyone, but apparently that's what meeting a string of decent people will do to you when you're temporarily no longer crushed under the heel of a sadist. He sighs, and then a mischievous gleam returns to his eye. ]
It is, like you well know, only the mental barbs left by work unfinished. [Whether it's killing one's master or trying to ensure that elves are not systematically wiped out by a population grown to hate them.
Jaskier cannot say he did not add salt upon the wound. Toss a Coin is a favourite, but it is not favourable to elves. It never was meant to be, all things considered. Perhaps Astarion can put two and two together one day, and think that this is a point especially in why Jaskier wished to help him.
Jaskier's laugh in response is low and dry.]
Perhaps. I claim nothing about my heart but that it beats. [He waves such an accusation away, as pretty as it is. He has done horrible things to get by, just as many have. Though he can't say there's blood on his hands, so he has a bit of an advantage on some.
It strikes him that Astarion seems to comment on such things -- the morals of others, and quite directly. He wonders if such musings turn internally... or perhaps they hardly ever leave him. Two hundred years is such an ungraspable amount of time to spend in one's mind. It is worth mentioning enough that is yet still sane.]
You did unfortunately miss the last hanging, but surely the Free Cities will find plenty more scapegoats to kill for the delight of others. [That's simply a fact.] The queen of Thorne is a bit more personal. I've hardly ever been a royalist.
[To say the least. Jaskier takes him in for a moment, then leans on his hand with a smile. He hasn't even looked at the painting. And while Jaskier really wishes to needle him about it... perhaps it is best left to Astarion's privacy.] Now come. Don't be shy. Order as much bloodwine on my tab as you wish, and we'll speak on less maudlin things. I heard you've found some work...?
[ There's no point in lingering on the topic as they begin to move on, and he gladly takes another drink from his glass, feeling suddenly disquieted while unable (and unwilling) to reflect on why.
And so he latches onto the morbid in place of the maudlin - ]
Pah -! Hangings are a bit too bloodless for my liking...
[ But court gossip is something he quite enjoys. Something to ask again about in a moment. As for the question turned back to him... he rolls his eyes, although not directed at Jaskier peronally. ]
I have! Something of a cross between legal counsel, promoter, and minder-of-infants...
[ To which he will begin to explain his adventures at Rio Enterprises and his possibly one-sided feud with some of the other employees - he might not have a bard's gift for storytelling, but he's hardly a bore. He won't take up all the air in the room, though, and is still keen to ask Jaskier about his own adventures...
And yes, he will order plenty of bloodwine, too. ]
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cointosser) wrote2021-04-12 08:58 pm
no subject
A light shrug with one shoulder. ]
You're not wrong. [ That he's not particularly interested in the subject. With Urianger, another elf, it's a little different. No, with Jaskier his curiosity lies in an adjacent space. ]
I've been this longer than I was living elf. [ Another bitter edge to his tone, and he scoffs. ] I wager that most of my own people don't consider me kin anymore. I could hardly blame them, honestly. [ He could. ]
Difficult to get past the business of bloodlust and fangs.
[ He swirls the wine in his glass, watching the liquid lap close to the rim. ]
I suppose... I merely wondered why you always look so despondent whenever you speak of them.
no subject
Being a vampire is, of course, a far different matter.]
Couldn't you? [Blame them. He senses Astarion is not very charitable about such things. Or about most things. Which isn't a tick against him, of course. Jaskier is quite volatile in offenses himself.
The bard resettles himself, fiddling with the edges of his coat and how they lay over his legs.] Do I come off that depressing? [He teases, but it's a little startling to know it's so... obvious.] The people were turning against them, as the war grew closer. Before I came here, I was... helping move those that could find me to somewhere safer. Possibly illegally. And often now, I think, if those routes I set up remained. If someone else has taken up the mantle that I created.
[He swirls his glass, then takes a long, long draw of it. Even the burst of alcohol is not enough to slurry through his mind fast enough.] Maudlin. And it matters little now that the war is full in effect. Now I'm here, with a whole new plane to make trouble in. Perhaps by next year, I'll have the queen's head on a platter instead.
no subject
Gods, now he's just depressing himself. And he's acutely aware that it's making the man on the other side of the table uncomfortable as well. Normally he enjoys making people squirm. Not this time, though. He doesn't mask the way his gaze fixes on Jaskier as he explains his hero's journey. Some months ago the same story would have incurred venomous barbs from Astarion. He's had no patience for heroes. But - ]
I suppose it makes some sort of sense for you to dwell on their fate, then. [ While there's a condescending lilt to his tone at first - he's incapable of saying such a thing otherwise, the way he ends it is strikingly sincere, and a little sad: ] You seem like you have a good heart.
[ It still feels foolish of him to genuinely trust such a thing about anyone, but apparently that's what meeting a string of decent people will do to you when you're temporarily no longer crushed under the heel of a sadist. He sighs, and then a mischievous gleam returns to his eye. ]
I do like the sound of a beheading, though.
we can wrap whenever!!
Jaskier cannot say he did not add salt upon the wound. Toss a Coin is a favourite, but it is not favourable to elves. It never was meant to be, all things considered. Perhaps Astarion can put two and two together one day, and think that this is a point especially in why Jaskier wished to help him.
Jaskier's laugh in response is low and dry.]
Perhaps. I claim nothing about my heart but that it beats. [He waves such an accusation away, as pretty as it is. He has done horrible things to get by, just as many have. Though he can't say there's blood on his hands, so he has a bit of an advantage on some.
It strikes him that Astarion seems to comment on such things -- the morals of others, and quite directly. He wonders if such musings turn internally... or perhaps they hardly ever leave him. Two hundred years is such an ungraspable amount of time to spend in one's mind. It is worth mentioning enough that is yet still sane.]
You did unfortunately miss the last hanging, but surely the Free Cities will find plenty more scapegoats to kill for the delight of others. [That's simply a fact.] The queen of Thorne is a bit more personal. I've hardly ever been a royalist.
[To say the least. Jaskier takes him in for a moment, then leans on his hand with a smile. He hasn't even looked at the painting. And while Jaskier really wishes to needle him about it... perhaps it is best left to Astarion's privacy.] Now come. Don't be shy. Order as much bloodwine on my tab as you wish, and we'll speak on less maudlin things. I heard you've found some work...?
🎀
And so he latches onto the morbid in place of the maudlin - ]
Pah -! Hangings are a bit too bloodless for my liking...
[ But court gossip is something he quite enjoys. Something to ask again about in a moment. As for the question turned back to him... he rolls his eyes, although not directed at Jaskier peronally. ]
I have! Something of a cross between legal counsel, promoter, and minder-of-infants...
[ To which he will begin to explain his adventures at Rio Enterprises and his possibly one-sided feud with some of the other employees - he might not have a bard's gift for storytelling, but he's hardly a bore. He won't take up all the air in the room, though, and is still keen to ask Jaskier about his own adventures...
And yes, he will order plenty of bloodwine, too. ]