divinestrike | Overflow / Open Post

[ 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?

[That's. A question, for certain. One that she's transparently not prepared for. She doesn't even have time to try concealing that. So instead for some moments, she simply lingers in a heavy quiet. And then she begins to reclaim her hands.]

Whatever your truth is.

[Sounds like an easy answer, but it's not.]

No one else can tell you that except you. You don't have to tell anyone else either, if you don't want to, because it's yours.

[ His truth. She really is the perfect little cleric.

Astarion's smile drops. His own dignity has been hidden from him for so long that he wouldn't even begin to know what his 'truth' is, nor how to find it. Disinclined to let Nepione know what thoughts she's stirred up inside him, he lifts the corners of his mouth back into a grin and playfully bops her on the nose. ]

How very twee. You thought of that inspirational speech just now?

[Too much? Probably too much. Not the first time she's crossed a line somewhere, even if her intentions are supposed to be good. Won't be the last time either. With Astarion, not knowing what to expect from him makes it a lot more difficult to remain stalwart.

There is a moment where she thinks she sees... something in him. She can't tell what, but surely something. But just like that it's gone. His smile returns and the moment he reaches over, she immediately backs down. A flush strikes her features and she folds her arms back across her chest.]

I'm not one for speeches. I just... said the truth the way I see it. [Nepione's words are quiet and murmured.] I was probably out of line for saying it. I know that I have a very different way of doing things and seeing things. Sometimes...

[Sometimes, it would be better if she kept those things to herself. She shakes her head.]

It doesn't matter. You can disregard it if you want.

[ Oh, she's like a kicked puppy. Emotionally and physically vulnerable. Despite himself, Astarion feels an awful, foreign sensation in his gut. ]

There's that shame again. A terribly unproductive emotion, if you ask me.

[ He would know. It's not exactly an emotion he's unfamiliar with. ]

You needn't feel guilty. [ He places a hand on his chest. ] I thought your speech was quite impassioned.

It's not—

[Sucking in a breath, she draws her composition tightly together, and then looses it. Maybe the problem is more to do with her than with him. To some extent, it must. Why must she hear everything he says and question it? Why not just... accept it as it is, let it go, and move on?]

It isn't that. Reassessing myself and my position where you're concerned isn't the same thing. Now—

[She lifts a hand to shoo him.] I'm going to continue my bath, unless you've decided you are so comfortable here that you're inclined to join me. Highly unlikely.

[To be fair, if he really wanted to take a gander at her naked? He's had all of the time to do so. Really quite generous of her, actually.]

[ No, he really isn't comfortable at all. Standing here in the river, fully clothed, he feels more like a wet cat than anything else. Still, he clasps his hands behind his back, leaning forward with an expectant smirk. ]

Are you inviting me to join?

That's... not what I said.

[Well. She kind of did. Sort of. Slightly. She leans back, dipping her chin, though she does keep her attention on him.]

But that— [She sweeps a hand over him from head to toe indicatively.] —is probably not great. Probably should have removed all of that before coming out here.

[ That's all the hint he needs. He unbuttons his shirt, slowly and deliberately, making a performance out of it, before removing it and tossing it aside. It hits the grass with a decidedly unsexy wet thwop that he ignores. In stark contrast to her modesty, he doesn't make any moves to cover his body, instead toying with the button at the waistband of his trousers as if waiting for approval before continuing. ]

Better?

[He's too much. That's all it is. He's too much for her to handle. Despite how very weighted their conversation has been, he kind of ruins (saves) all of that by his display. Before she can stop herself, she releases a laugh. Politely, she turns aside, folding her hands together.]

You tell me. I'm not going to watch you do this. Not because you aren't... most of what you say you are. Just because... you know.

[A pent-up cleric's sensitivities.]

[ Well, there's no point in trying to sensually remove his clothing if she's not watching. He unbuttons his trousers without fanfare, slipping out of them and his underwear with only some difficulty considering their sodden quality. The rest of his clothing joins his shirt on the riverbank, sopping wet and collecting bits of grass and dirt. He'll have to do laundry now, but it's worth it to curry further favor with their resident goody two-shoes.

And what a goody two-shoes she is, turning away to preserve his modesty — or is it hers? Stealthily, he approaches, whispering in her ear, ] I'm afraid you're going to have to look eventually.

[It likely more for herself than for him. Not that she doesn't think she can control herself. She's the very embodiment of control. But she's not above the others. Just because she doesn't expose herself to the same temptations doesn't mean she's not capable of still having them.

He leaves his words in her ear and she draws her arms in against herself, fighting the small shudder that crawls up her ridged spine. Not well, at that.]

Oh, am I? [She huffs a softer laugh.] Here I thought I might be polite and focus on the striking features of your face. [Indicatively, she casts a look over her shoulder, turning just in slight to do precisely that. She can fight the temptation.

Probably.]

[ How cute — she's shy. He's always had a bit of a soft spot for the shy ones. Not a big enough soft spot not to screw them over to protect his own hide, but circumstances necessitated eradicating anything soft to survive back then.

He frames his face with his own hands, posing playfully for Nepione's perusal. ]

Tell me, what strikes you?

[She prefers this version of him, she thinks. Or whatever it is that might be happening. Not enough to say she's one hundred percent comfortable, and she isn't about to go flaunting herself anywhere, but it could be worse. He really does frustrate her, but she feels like she can't stay frustrated forever. It's harder to be frustrated when he can amuse her.]

Hm...? [Her head tilts as she takes in all of his features. trying to give his question worthy consideration, though she suspects he's probably just teasing her. Yet. Again.] Oh—

[Turning to better face him, she lifts her own hands and points out the features on her own face. Cheekbones, right beneath the eye. His brow line, it seems. His eyes. The line of his jaw. The last place she touches she hesitates just a moment on, because she's not sure she should admit it or not...]

This here, too. [She finally decides she might as well humour him and thoughtfully, she taps her lower lip.] I'm not blind. You are handsome in an eerie sort of way.

[ Astarion clasps his hands behind his back, preening as she points out all of his features. He does rather pride himself on appearances, even if his lack of reflection adds some difficulty in that arena. When all you have is how you look, one finds ways to work around little things such as being unable to use a mirror.

Then, the preening stops. He raises an eyebrow and cocks his head, for once genuinely curious. ]

'Eerie'? Do I frighten you, darling?

[ If he does, asking it like that probably didn't help matters. ]

Mmmmmno? [It shouldn't come out of her like a question, but what can one do. She quickly explains—] Well, you stand out. That's not necessarily a bad thing. We know what happens to people who do, though. Not everyone is as accepting of differences. I say 'eerie,' but in a good sense.

[She studies him a few moments longer and then clears her throat.] It's captivating, is what I mean to say. You have the kind of look that is worthy of curiosity. Makes one want to know more. To learn more. But whilst I think many things of you, I don't think you're frightening. I'm not afraid of you.

And you needn't be.

[ It might do her well to have a little healthy fear, but Astarion certainly won't be the one to point that out. The last thing he needs is for his campmates to come at him with pitchforks and torches. No — let them see him as their friendly neighborhood vampire spawn. Practically defanged!

He leans in, voice low and deliberate. ]

You can trust me.

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You're slaying me here.

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