essea | [ ELVES CATCHALL POST. ]

[ It often rankles how blasé Iorveth is about his own death. Doesn't he know that it'll plunge Astarion back into an eternity of loneliness again? No doubt he thinks that Astarion will find a way to move on, form new relationships, live a full life without him. Astarion doesn't want to do any of those things, though, not if Iorveth isn't there alongside him. He's a brat, and he only wants things his way. ]

Sometimes, [ he says hesitantly, afraid what Iorveth might think of him, ] I fantasize about what it would have been like if I had finished that ritual.

[ Iorveth was so proud of him for not completing it. Of course he'll be disappointed to hear that Astarion still thinks about it. ]

I could have bitten you. [ Quickly, he adds, ] And I would have let you bite me, in turn.

[ Easy to say now. Back then, he'd still been terrified of Iorveth hurting him. He would have liked nothing more than to be able to control him. ]

We would have been so powerful. Nobody would ever hurt us again.

[ Funny, how Iorveth is so willing to channel "what you want to do isn't necessarily what you're going to do" to everybody but Astarion. He acknowledges it as his own character flaw and bias, that he holds Astarion above people who are living similar circumstances; again, there are certain shapes of justice and morality that he holds onto with clawed fingers and tenterhooks, but if he had to choose between being moral or being loyal, he knows which one he'd choose every single time.

He leans backwards on the heels of his hands, twisting his torso to look at Astarion in profile. Evaluating. It isn't pleasant to know that Astarion still thinks about relying on the crutch of absolute power, but it doesn't manifest as anything beyond a flick of his gaze upwards towards the ceiling, contemplative. ]

In a broad sense, perhaps.

[ Being powerful, being immortal. Iorveth isn't an expert on vampires, and therefore can't speak with any certainty about what being a vampire ascendant would have really meant. But he's seen Cazador, and he's tangentially seen what sort of philosophies Alkam has instilled his spawn, and none of the evidence point to anything he'd want Astarion to become.

He hums under his breath, long legs crossing at the ankles. ]

But I wonder if that power wouldn't have become your entire world.

[ Delusionally, Astarion had hoped that Iorveth would gush about how much he would love for Astarion to turn him into a vampire and whisk him away to his castle where they could live in eternal undeath together. Realistically, he knows that Iorveth would never say such a thing, but he's disappointed regardless.

He lists against the singular arm of the divan, scowling. It isn't fair, any of it. ]

Does it disgust you?

[ Asked without a glance Iorveth's way, instead staring at Damris's unconscious, hogtied body. He doesn't really want to know, he just wants to brood. ]

To know that I'm not half as noble as you pretend I am?

[ Familiar tactic. Hurt before you can be hurt. Disgust isn't a term Iorveth would use to describe his feelings for Astarion, and Astarion should be as certain of that truth as he is about not finding Iorveth disgusting; Astarion should also know that it rankles to be told that Iorveth's opinion of Astarion is rooted in some sort of fantasy, and not what Iorveth has observed.

He should be patient. He knows he should. Astarion likes to brood－ it's how he copes. But Iorveth frowns regardless, and sighs through his teeth. ]

Do I find it disgusting that you fantasize about keeping me forever? No.

[ It's flattering, actually, even if the methodology might be questionable. Again, though, stones and glass houses, etc. ]

I understand the difficulty of caring in a world that would deny us the ability to. Especially after my blunder tonight.

[ Iorveth is so annoying that he doesn't even let Astarion brood properly. At least say something mean to him so that he can really feel bad about himself! Astarion scowls, straightening back up again. ]

Are we calling being poisoned a 'blunder' now?

[ Idiot. ]

You've done nothing wrong. It's that horrible tiefling who's to blame.

[ Well. He softens (just a bit). Damris undoubtedly had no qualms with sacrificing someone else to save his own ass, but it probably wasn't his idea. ]

...And Alkam. And that damned old lady, for putting us on this quest to begin with.

[ Isn't allowing oneself to be poisoned a blunder? Iorveth feels that way, at least, though he doesn't speak on it further. There's no point, and besides, speaking of: he wants to wash all the poison-sweat from his body, now that they're back in the relative safety (sans Damris's somewhat intrusive presence) of their suite.

He gets up off the divan, straightens his spine, then makes his way towards the door. ]

Alkam is an unhappy byproduct of our current situation. I don't trust the crone who sent us to him: to her, this must all be entertainment.

[ Maybe they should just kill her. Probably not so easy, if she's made it to senility without anyone having slit her throat. ]

I blame myself for being unprepared, but I'll not make that mistake again. Especially if it's making you contemplate ascension.

[ Astarion stands, too, intending to follow even if he's not sure whether he's invited or if Iorveth is choosing to leave to be alone. It would be reasonable if he were. It's been a long day (night), and being poisoned must drain someone's energy. Admittedly, he wouldn't know. He's never been poisoned.

As he trails behind Iorveth, he gives Damris's unconscious body a little kick for good measure. ]

It's not like I'm going to actually do it.

[ He sounds a little sullen, like an unruly child trying to justify his bad behavior. ]

I mean, do you have any idea how long it would take to round up seven thousand sacrifices?

[ Astarion does have the hardest life on the planet. Iorveth wisely refrains from answering that question ("yeah, about two hundred years with seven spawn, according to Cazador"), because it would be horrendous, even by his mean elf standards.

He doesn't mind Astarion following. Honestly, he'd thought Astarion would want the time and space to brood, so it's a pleasant surprise that he trails along, sullen as he still seems to be. ]

You could go to Avernus and appeal to Mephistopheles directly.

[ Dryly. Astarion's been down to the House of Hope once before, so another trip to a similar realm may not faze him all that much. That said, the tone here is: "you shouldn't actually do that, though".

Into the comically palatial bathroom Iorveth goes, the magic-ed bathwater heating up in the presence of the two elves. The scent of lavender rises up from violet steam; for once, Iorveth is happy to smell it. Alkam's manor smelled like an alchemy experiment went awry. ]

[ Astarion settles down on the floor within arm's reach of the water, in case Iorveth needs another hair-washing or just some idle petting. The thought of Iorveth being out of arm's reach after the events of tonight makes his skin prickle unpleasantly, actually. He might never let Iorveth out of his sight again for fear of something happening to him. Just when he starts to believe the world might not be an entirely awful place, something happens to kickstart those neuroses right back up. ]

I'm not so desperate yet that I'm willing to travel to the Hells again.

[ He flicks the sweet-smelling water. ]

...Besides, you'd despise me for it, and then ascension wouldn't be any good to me at all.

[ A catch-22: he could do horrible things to give Iorveth eternal life, but then Iorveth would spend that eternal life disappointed in him. ]

[ Not-quite-sexy stripping. Iorveth peels his sweat-sticky layers from his body, dropping them carefully in a hamper for cleaning later. It was a nice outfit meant to accommodate going out and buying something shiny for Astarion's pleasure, so he'll want it in good condition for another day.

His eyepatch is the last bit to get removed, and he places it next to Astarion for safekeeping. The ring-necklace stays. He prefers to wear it on his skin like a second tattoo. ]

I wouldn't despise you. [ An observation and a half-revelation, as he dips into the water. ] But every vampire we've seen thus far has lived their un-life holed up in a tasteless mansion with intolerable minions. If that's to be my fate, I wouldn't choose it happily.

[ Keeping close, glancing up at Astarion from inside the shallow pool: ] Does that put us at odds?

[ He lets his cold hand dangle in the warm water, heating it up. Better to let it reach something resembling living body temperature before he tries to touch Iorveth with it. Astarion would hate to frighten Iorveth with a freezing hand on the back of his neck; after what he's been through today, that might be the thing that gives him a fatal heart attack. ]

I already said I'd spend my un-life holed up in some straw hut with intolerable elves for you.

[ He still doesn't really get how the Aen Seidhe live.

Then, grousing a little: ] But I suppose it would be nice if you didn't make eternity with me sound like a prison sentence.

[ Hm. Sliding down so that the back of his head settles against the edge of the pool, shoulders under the water and his hair (slightly longer since the last time Astarion trimmed it) swimming around him, Iorveth marinates for a second. ]

So you say, after making life in the forest sound like an intolerable concession.

[ Apparently, Astarion still thinks wood elves just kind of. Roll around in dirt and sleep on beds made of leaves. (Maybe some of them do???) He doesn't want to start a fight after a stressful night and an unsuccessful mission, but here he is anyway. ]

I said I want to build my future with you, in whatever form that takes. With you, you dolt.

[ Eternity is a long time, if they manage to secure it for the both of them. Iorveth is of the opinion that neither of them should suffer it. ]

[ Life in the forest kind of is an intolerable concession, but it's one he was willing to tolerate because Iorveth would be there. He would give up nearly anything to be with Iorveth, although admittedly, he had very little to give up in the first place. What would he have been doing right now, if not this? Skulking around in the Underdark surrounded by his awful siblings and seven thousand people who hate him. ]

A future with an expiration date, you mean.

[ For one of them, anyway, but the end of Iorveth's life feels a lot like the end of his life. The trials of having one singular person who has made life worth living; without said person, it all seems very bleak. ]

...Well. I guess I'm already fortunate to have as much of you as I do.

[ He doesn't sound wholly convinced of this. Astarion has never been the type to be content with what he has. ]

[ An extended silence after Astarion seems to give up on the matter of their future (Astarion's future), and Iorveth sighs. Sitting back up again, water displacing gently around him, he turns and reaches up－

－and tugs on Astarion's arms, hopefully forcing him to slide, clothes and all, into the water. Like picking up and dumping an unruly, sullen cat into a bath. Which is basically what's happening, as far as Iorveth is concerned. ]

Idiot. [ Again. ] You might not, but I'll claw and fight until my last breath for a way to extend my life without you having to ascend.

[ Deranged elf, always swimming up waterfalls and fighting obviously losing battles. Any hardship or suffering feels worth it if it contributes to the future of the people he loves. ]

[ Iorveth tugs, and Astarion goes tumbling into the water with a splash. He reacts, yes, like an unruly, sullen cat, practically hissing as he raises his arms and lets the water drip from his sleeves. His clothes! Gods, his hair! He splutters, spitting a little bit of lavender-scented water as he does so.

For a dead man, he's surprisingly red-faced. Red-eared, too. ]

—Darling.

[ An exasperated scold. ]

What in the hells was that for?

For sulking. [ Says the mean elf, pulling a very waterlogged Astarion towards him to capture in an embrace. Again, much like trying to hold an unruly cat to make it stop squirming. ] For thinking I wouldn't find a way to be with you without capturing seven thousand sorry souls and having you become something you would hate.

[ An assumption, but Iorveth believes it to be a rather informed one. Astarion may look like a dripping, hissing mess right now, but Iorveth vastly prefers this to whatever version of the vampire ascendant Astarion might have become. ]

For thinking I was disgusted by you.

[ A huff, displeased, and he flicks water at Astarion's red face. ]

I'd not tolerate such offense from anyone but you.

[ He has the right to sulk, he thinks, when he just spent the night trying to keep the love of his life from dying horribly. But Iorveth can appease him as easily as he can irritate him, and although he halfheartedly pretends that he doesn't want it, Astarion accepts the embrace, head leaning on Iorveth's perfect archer shoulder. ]

I only asked if you were disgusted, [ is his excuse. He never said that Iorveth actually was! In truth, Iorveth probably should be. All of that praise about how sweet and good Astarion is, and he's still pretty sure he's fundamentally a bad person. He is, admittedly, a little afraid that one day Iorveth will realize this and become disillusioned with him. ]

Do you mean it?

[ About finding a way to be with him. Iorveth always means what he says, but he still has to ask. ]

When I speak of eternal life, you sound— [ Mm. A pause. ] Unenthusiastic.

[ Iorveth feels sore all over, but it's mostly his insides that feel wrung-out and tired. Having weight applied to his poison-weakened body isn't the best for him, but the irrational, illogical part of his brain whose chemistry has been permanently changed by Astarion says that the additional weight is the only thing that feels good right now, so. Iorveth hefts Astarion closer, aching but content. ]

I'm unenthused about an eternal life predicated on being your kept elf in an ivory tower.

[ To make that distinction abundantly clear. ]

I'm enthused about an eternal life where we explore the world on our own terms, kill our enemies when we need to, and fuck where we want. Together.

[ A deviation from his previously-held dreams for the future. It still holds－ his evergreen desire to sit in a quiet, peaceful room with a table full of food and a roaring fire to keep warm－ but it's in concert with enjoying a life with someone he loves.

Obviously, this future also hinges on the survival of the Aen Seidhe, but Saskia seems to have that covered for now. Plus, Saskia is also going to live for like, another few millennia, thank the gods. ]

[ This whole distaste toward being a 'kept elf' is sort of ridiculous, he thinks, because he would make sure that Iorveth was safe and spoiled and had everything he could ever want and more. How could that be worse than the life Iorveth has led for years, stressed and deprived of all of life's greatest pleasures?

He doesn't argue this, because Iorveth might get angry, and it's a moot point, anyway. It's never going to actually happen. Astarion ensured that when he set all of those thousands of spawn free instead of condemning them to the Hells.

So, instead, he laughs. ]

Mm, romantic.

[ Iorveth would prioritize 'killing' before 'fucking'. But those are all the things he wants, too, in a manner of speaking. He wants to do whatever he wants whenever he wants, and yes, that includes killing and fucking. ]

If we're going to fuck eternally, [ he says with another laugh, withdrawing from the embrace, ] we'll really have to start doing more depraved things. I wouldn't want you to grow bored.

[ A casual hmph, at the accusation that Iorveth would ever get bored. For all of Astarion's grumbling about Iorveth's unwillingness to accept how cared for he is, Iorveth thinks Astarion reciprocally underestimates the depth of Iorveth's possibly-deranged love. ]

You're a fool if you truly think that would happen.

[ Hmph!!! Offended but still chronically unable to not fuss while Astarion is around, Iorveth reaches to help Astarion out of his waterlogged vampire chic outfit, undoing buttons and peeling stuck layers away from his skin with gentle attention. It really is unfair how beautiful Astarion manages to be, even when he looks half-drowned and rumpled.

After a beat of keeping his hands busy, Iorveth adds: ]

―I wouldn't say no to experimentation, however.

[ Like, he isn't not going to be a freak. That, and Astarion deserves to figure out what gets him going (or turns him off). ]

[ Dressing and undressing is perhaps one of the things Iorveth does that Astarion loves the most. A small thing, but it makes him feel— like somebody worth taking care of. An uncommon but very, very good feeling. He smiles crookedly as Iorveth peels the sopping clothing from him, taking it afterward and laying it out as flat as he can manage on the floor. No wrinkles for this vampire. ]

Of course you wouldn't, you filthy man.

[ Said warmly. Sometimes he thinks that maybe Lae'zel and Iorveth would have been a better match, if only because Lae'zel could match his freak tenfold. Iorveth pokes fun at him for not being as depraved as he claims to be and, well, he's unfortunately right. ]

The filthy man that I adore. [ He swipes a thumb across Iorveth's cheek. ] Now and always.

[ Iorveth will accept "filthy" from Astarion, and no one else. Truly, he sees nothing wrong with finding new and interesting (insane) ways to enjoy someone (or having them enjoy him), but he can tell that Astarion means "filthy" in an affectionate way.

Or, at least, he hopes. He wouldn't be able to bear it if Astarion felt pressured to perform again; he has a hand, if Astarion doesn't want sex. That'll never be a dealbreaker.

Blinking steam from his eye, Iorveth tips into the touch against his cheek and tries not to look too pleased by the declaration that he's adored. ]

...Always and increasingly.

[ A reciprocal proclamation, as he leans in to press his lips to Astarion's mouth, featherlight－

－which reminds him: ] Hells. I forgot to gag the tiefling. [ Another quick peck, and Iorveth starts to lift himself out of the pool. ]

[ Astarion closes his eyes and readies himself to be properly lavished with affection, and— oh. He cracks one eye open, then the other. ]

I guess the moment is over.

[ Damris has managed to ruin something yet again, and he's not even awake (hopefully). What the hells is the point of having a spat if it doesn't end in him being kissed all over his face and endlessly told how wonderful he is?

But he does want the awful creature gagged, because not only does he not want to hear anything the man has to say, he really doesn't want his shouting to draw unnecessary attention from anyone on the lower floors. He clambers out of the bath alongside Iorveth, a large puddle on the floor where he stands. ]

At least put on a robe before you go in there. I don't like the idea of him having access to all of your, ah, vulnerable parts.

[ Vampire spawn are crafty! He could bite off Iorveth's dick, and gods, that would be a fiasco. ]

[ Again: Astarion has the hardest life in the world. That said, Iorveth fully intends to shower Astarion with attention after he takes care of the Damris Business, and also fully intends to keep his dick intact for a rainy day, so on the robe goes (one in deep aubergine; he couldn't bring himself to choose the periwinkle), after he towels Astarion off so that he isn't dripping everywhere. Still fussing. ]

I'm not symmetrical enough for him to want to look at my cock, [ Iorveth drawls when he's finished, moving to dry his hair perfunctorily before heading back into the office. Damris is still on the floor, a lovely lump sprawled on a pile of hastily-stacked divan cushions, but he's showing signs of being... well, not alive, but not dead dead. A shift here, a soft groan there.

Well, at least they're not keeping a corpse locked up. Iorveth takes his bathrobe belt and uses it as a makeshift gag, to which the half-conscious tiefling protests with a weak grunt and the barest hint of sharp teeth attempting to find something soft to bite down on. ]

Almost as unruly as you, [ Iorveth hums, 'you' referring to Astarion. ]

[ Ah. Not dead, just heavily sedated. Well, that's fine by him. He only worries about what will happen when the sedation wears off. Like he said: vampire spawn are crafty. Iorveth has trussed him up very well, but if they don't kill him, they'll have to let him out eventually, and Astarion can't picture him being grateful.

A bridge he'll cross when he gets to it! Iorveth is the planner, not him. He peeks in dressed in, yes, the periwinkle robe. Not exactly his color, but he likes to think that he can pull anything off. ]

Oh, gods. So dramatic. [ He rolls his eyes. ] It's not like you haven't had worse.

[ Meanwhile, Astarion was tortured for two hundred years and would still throw a tantrum over a stubbed toe. ]

Oh! [ As if he's just thought of something. ] You should have asked him what his favorite flowers were, darling. [ Waving a hand: ] Eh. I'll just say roses.

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