[ 'Just food'. Astarion grinds his teeth, every inch bristling like a puffed-up cat. ]
Nothing? Don't be stupid.
[ Were Astarion in Petras's place, the only thing that would have upset him about Cazador's death would be that he didn't get to do it himself. Petras is younger, though, impressionable. He hasn't had his will systematically broken down over centuries. Whatever Cazador told him, he foolishly believed. It makes sense that he's heartbroken over losing the future he was promised, even if it was never going to come to fruition. Unfortunately, Astarion has already used up all of his finite empathy.
He takes a step closer to Petras, his voice soft but brimming with barely concealed disdain. ]
You're free, brother. Thanks to me. [ He glances at Iorveth. 'Just food'. ] Thanks to us.
[ "Free to indulge in thinking creatures, like you've been doing—" Petras starts, gesturing toward Iorveth. ]
Yes. Free to kill and consume whoever you want. [ A shadow passes over his face. The thought of Petras's fangs in Iorveth's throat—even worse, Iorveth's blood in Petras's mouth—makes his stomach churn. ] Just not him, or I really will roast you.
[ Petras takes a step back, his handsome features pinched into a decidedly unattractive expression of displeasure. "You never did share well with others." ]
Mm, no. And if I find out you've been trying to play with my toys, you'll long for Godey's gentle touch.
[ For a long moment, they stare at each other, blood-red to blood-red. Silent communication between two people with years of unpleasant history behind them. Astarion livens up, then, clasping his hands behind his back. ]
Don't look so glum. We left a gift for you underneath the palace. Thousands of new friends.
no subject
Nothing? Don't be stupid.
[ Were Astarion in Petras's place, the only thing that would have upset him about Cazador's death would be that he didn't get to do it himself. Petras is younger, though, impressionable. He hasn't had his will systematically broken down over centuries. Whatever Cazador told him, he foolishly believed. It makes sense that he's heartbroken over losing the future he was promised, even if it was never going to come to fruition. Unfortunately, Astarion has already used up all of his finite empathy.
He takes a step closer to Petras, his voice soft but brimming with barely concealed disdain. ]
You're free, brother. Thanks to me. [ He glances at Iorveth. 'Just food'. ] Thanks to us.
[ "Free to indulge in thinking creatures, like you've been doing—" Petras starts, gesturing toward Iorveth. ]
Yes. Free to kill and consume whoever you want. [ A shadow passes over his face. The thought of Petras's fangs in Iorveth's throat—even worse, Iorveth's blood in Petras's mouth—makes his stomach churn. ] Just not him, or I really will roast you.
[ Petras takes a step back, his handsome features pinched into a decidedly unattractive expression of displeasure. "You never did share well with others." ]
Mm, no. And if I find out you've been trying to play with my toys, you'll long for Godey's gentle touch.
[ For a long moment, they stare at each other, blood-red to blood-red. Silent communication between two people with years of unpleasant history behind them. Astarion livens up, then, clasping his hands behind his back. ]
Don't look so glum. We left a gift for you underneath the palace. Thousands of new friends.