divinestrike | Overflow / Open Post

If you aren't allowing me to dip into your dirty book collection [ and yes, he has decided it's a collection ] then it's the least you can do.

I don't have a collection. I have, perhaps, once or twice, procured, one or two of those books and read them. If you feel you can't survive without them, then have at it, I guess. There are so many better ways of getting under my skin than irritating me.

Oh, really?

Has this all been a clever ruse to break me down and just give in so you stop annoying me?

Not at all. On my honor, I won't touch you unless you're begging for it.

[ And he won't stop being annoying even if she begs for it. ]

As if I'd give you the satisfaction of hearing me beg for anything.

[...Loathe as she is to admit it, that's not exactly out of the realm of possibility, but pride tells her that he would never let her live it down.]

Pity.

[ He's not too cut up about it. It's a workable situation. ]

I'm sure we can find other ways to enjoy ourselves. Speaking of, I'm coming down by the river to get under your lovely skin.

I do so appreciate a warning. Perhaps say something when you arrive, so you don't give me a fright. I know how good you are at being inconspicuous.

[This is not one of those occasions where he should feel he must needs sneak. As long as he announces himself, she won't be tempted to throw something at him. Either way, he'll likely find her with quite the very tidy pile of garments and far too much hair messily pulled up and pinned in place every which way.]

[ Considerate as ever, Astarion makes no attempt at a stealthy approach, opting instead for put-upon swagger as he lazily strides towards Nepione, as if in no real hurry to get there. Once he's within earshot, he stops, calling out in a voice that drips with sarcasm: ]

Boo.

[ She did ask him to announce himself, after all. ]

[Tucking some of her hair behind her ear, his little greeting is... about what she's come to expect of him. It's considerably better than him sidling right on up to her. She hears well, undoubtedly, but Astarion is a master of being light of foot. He could probably catch her unawares if he truly wanted to.]

Yes, hello.

[She's giving him a quick once-over, mostly curious to know if he did, in fact, go through her belongings for scandalous texts that evidently don't belong in a cleric's hands.]

I doubt I need to say this, but we don't discuss this— [She motions between the two of them.] —with the others. I'm not going to invite a plethora of people to my bathing rituals.

[ His hands are (fortunately for her) free of any dirty books. He could conjure a trashier, bawdier story out of thin air, no book required. He places a free hand on his hip, posing languidly as he allows his eyes to rove over her body. It's a move he's done hundreds of times before, on hundreds of bodies, practiced until perfect. After a long, leisurely moment, he meets her gaze again. ]

Obviously.

[ She needn't tell him twice. Special treatment is good. ]

Can you imagine if Halsin invited himself? Or Lae'zel? [ The two horniest members of the camp, obviously. ] So annoying.

[ Not like him. ]

[The moment she takes notice of his attention, she shifts in just such a way that she thinks is a little more modest. That does little about the heat rising to her cheeks. Fine. Let him look some moments, she thinks, before she abruptly turns her back to him to make way for the water, leaning down to snatch up conveniently placed soap and cloth.]

Didn't you kind of do the same thing? You didn't exactly ask. I didn't exactly say you couldn't. I guess the circumstances are a little different. I still don't get the interest, but better than you deliberately trying to stir up trouble.

[They have enough of it without his antics, amusing though they may sometimes be.]

[ When she puts it that way, yes, he did invite himself. It's different because he was ever so charming about it.

Astarion lowers himself down to sit by the riverside, stretching out his legs and cocking his head as he watches Nepione with a sort of cool interest. As he observes her, he takes note of her response to being watched, tucking it away for future use. ]

Who says I'm not stirring up trouble now?

[ He smiles impishly. ]

I believe that, actually. Is there ever a moment in which you're not.

[Not a question. Or, if it is, more rhetorical in nature. She's confident that the answer to that is a very resounding 'no.' She doesn't need him to weigh in on it to come to that conclusion either.

She tries, very hard, to treat this bath, this very innocent dip in the river, like all of the other ones she ever takes, but there are some slight, unnatural pauses to her movements. As if she has to be more conscientious about how she moves and bends, even with the most subtle of motions. Not because she's trying to show off, but because she's trying to show as little as possible.

A bit pointless when she's naked. It would almost be easier to tell him to go downstream and clean himself.]

Am I going to come back to camp proper to chaos?

[ He giggles with an almost malicious glee. ]

Oh, almost certainly! But it won't be my fault.

[ Shadowheart and Lae'zel at each other's throats. Gale wallowing over his lost goddess. Karlach five seconds away from setting the place on fire. Wyll running after every wrong that must be righted with his hero complex. Astarion's not the only troublemaker in the camp; he's just the only one that does it on purpose. ]

Ah, but aren't you tired of thinking of them all the time? [ He makes a face. So boring. ] For now, you need only think of me.

[The way he says it makes her wonder. It's not particularly easing any of the concern that she's got welling up inside of her. But maybe it'll just be... another day, another night, another time of the same. Ironic that a group of misfits such as them have even gotten this fire? Halsin, right now, seems like the most unobtrusive.

Maybe it's all the fault of the tadpole.

Looking over her shoulder to where he's seated himself, she raises an eyebrow.]

Think of you? [She asks, almost incredulous.] And what do you want me to think of you, hmm? [Although, he gets what he wants. The more he frustrates her, agitates her, attempts to get under her skin, antagonises her, the more she does, in fact, think about him.]

[ Astarion places a hand to his unbeating heart in a sarcastic display of honorability. ]

Only true things. Impossibly beautiful, irresistibly charming, effortlessly captivating.

I don't really think you need me to think or say any of that to you.

[She turns and offers up her hands in what can only be interpreted as some melodramatic shrug on her part before she resumes drawing soap and cloth along an arm.]

You think all of that so much already, why would it matter if anyone else did?

[Except it's not that easy. It is... possible that he doesn't really think any of that, but wants to and needs that validation through someone else. That hasn't escaped her. But it's just as possible that he is every bit as arrogant as he postures himself to be. Nepione cannot determine which one of those is truth and which is not.]

[ Astarion scoffs. ]

Oh, you're adorable.

[ He could just pat her on the head like a golden retriever. She's exactly the sort of naive that makes his ears perk up. ]

Why indeed would I want the attentions of a beautiful woman?

[ Beautiful, yes, and also influential and well-liked. To be desired would be to ingratiate himself with her, and ingratiating himself with her would mean safety. He doesn't need to be liked by everyone; he only needs to be liked by someone who's liked by everyone else. ]

I'm. Not.

[Either of those things. At least, according to her, because somehow when he says them, they do not sound particularly endearing. There's also the matter that self-perception is so different from how others may perceive. Neither here nor there, perhaps, in this particular circumstance.

Her head tilts as she eyes him with a fair amount of wariness.]

I really don't like flattery, Astarion. I'm not interested in these exhausting social games. I would prefer it if you were just straight forward with me. If you want something, just say it.

[Everyone else can tell her, mostly, what they need out of her. She is, generally, content to provide it if it's within her ability to do so. People like Lae'zel, never leave her guessing and she likes that. She can draw the line where she needs to, but with Astarion, he's such a wildcard.

So. Very. Unpredictable. Exciting, perhaps, but there's no one else in camp who makes her nervous the way he does. One of these days, she's convinced she'll find a blade of his at her throat.]

[ If you want something, just say it. Astarion has never been able to safely ask for something in his life; manipulation and wheedling has been his only option for as long as he can remember. Exhausting as Nepione may find it, it's his second nature. ]

I want only to give you what you want, darling.

[She feels immediately annoyed by his response. Why say it like that? He has thoughts of his own, surely. Wants. No, no, no. He deserves better than her ire. This may require a different approach.

She takes a moment to rinse herself off and leans over to set down her accoutrements. Lifting a hand, she beckons him over.]

Come here. Nice and close. [That's right, into the water with her and all.] Because I want to make sure that the next thing I say is something you hear very clearly.

[ Ugh. He really doesn't fancy the idea of getting wet, but it wouldn't be the first time he's done something unpalatable for the sake of someone else. Astarion stands, kicking off his boots to protect the leather. He hesitates upon stepping into the river; old habits die hard, and running water has historically not been his friend. Still, he pushes through, wading into the river and suppressing a grimace at the feeling of waterlogged trouser legs, instead smiling coyly. ]

I'm listening.

[That's promising.

She waits very patiently, arms folded across her as he takes the time to remove his boots. Easier for him to come to her than the other way around, though that isn't really true. Maybe it is just a touch of selfishness on her part. When he is near enough, she finally shifts, lifting her hands and if he'll let her, she carefully reach up to his face simply to hold it, simply to carefully splay her claws along the line of his jaw.

If only because he really does need to hear what she's going to say.]

You... don't serve me. [Despite how very pointed she can be with him, these words are considerably more gentle, more marked with concern.] You aren't a thing. You aren't a possession. [And she knows that it's complicated. She gets that.] You are my equal and I cannot bear to hear you say ridiculous things like you only want to give me what I want. That's not how this should be.

[ Astarion's smile stays perfectly unchanged the entire time she speaks, a carefully constructed mask to hide the true thoughts and feelings beneath. Her gentleness is so overt and unabashed that it almost angers him; if it weren't for her demonstrated pattern of idealistic naiveté, he'd question her sincerity.

She is sincere, though, and disgustingly so. Being on the receiving end of such genuineness makes him want to recoil in shame, but he smothers such feelings before they ever reach the outside, instead merely peering at her curiously. ]

And how should it be?

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