Astarion doesn't say anything for a while. He just loosely holds Jedao in the curve of his arm, plays with his hair.
(He thinks of Sebastian. My name sounded like a lyric on your tongue. Red eyes livid with rage, reaching through the bars of his cell to claw at his executioner. You destroyed me.)
"...I just...don't like to imagine there are things which you want that you're denying yourself because of how someone else chose to behave."
"Because I'm the best person who ever lived and I deserve to get everything I want?" Jedao asks, a bit silly but not mocking, just - treading lightly.
"I don't think anyone gets everything they want, and that's alright. My life is an embarrassment of riches, these days. If I want something you don't enjoy just as much as you seemed to enjoy whipping me, I have other people in my life I can ask."
He strokes Astarion's wrist, where his arm is loose around him, along the bones of his hand.
"You proposed this, and - fuck, how perfect? I've never been whipped with that much skill. So I promise it's no deprivation to say that I'm only going to do things with you, if you're sure enough you want them to ask for them."
He laughs for a moment, soft and rueful. "I know that sounds like a trap, like I want you to guess the right thing. But I swear it's not. I like almost anything, and I like the idea of you getting to be...selfish with me. Even if it takes awhile to decide, when you've got space to avoid instead of ask. Which you do. In fact, I forbid you from answering right now. But think about it. And if you decide you do want something else - I'm yours for the asking, darling."
Astarion doesn't respond to the 'best person who ever lived' remark, just pinches his earlobe to communicate his displeasure at the ridiculousness of it and lets him keep talking.
He wants to believe that this is entirely to do with Jedao's hangups and his experiences with someone whose 'eagerness to please' was misinterpreted in a way his own was intended to be, countless times. Hells, isn't it self-centred to even suspect otherwise?
"Stabbed an innocent man in the face mid-conversation, full time sex pet slash bait, and that you'd forgotten what your face looks like," he answers evenly.
"But I like to think I would have been paying enough attention to be careful anyway."
Astarion isn't sure he believes that, and having so much of his life laid out quite so baldly isn't the most pleasant thing to hear. But he did ask. Maybe he's just easier to read than he likes to imagine, in the company of someone who's actually watching.
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"I think you would," he agrees, and strokes the ear he pinched. "Personally, I would be very content to do this again just as we have, and if you'd prefer to wait to discuss anything further, I'm happy to do that."
"I truly don't know if I could have done any better," Jedao admits. "I got made with a lot of weird skills built in, but I don't see how the whip would be an especially practical assassin's weapon. But I did want to be sure."
"Oh, I'd never use a whip to kill someone. Incredibly unwieldy," he
agrees. "Two knives, a shortbow, a little magic and a quiet tread have
always served me perfectly well."
Up until they didn't, but no amount of stealth would have saved him in the
end.
"Magic," he agrees. "I keep forgetting that people don't just see the ears
and know, here. The Admiral took most of it, but - I still have a few
tricks up my sleeve, if you'd like a demonstration?"
He casts Mage Hand - invisible to anyone but himself - and uses it to pick
up the coiled whip from where it's been placed, letting it uncoil and
giving it a light little spin in midair.
The urge to twist around and kiss him, in spite of all his principles and everything he's said, squeezes Jedao breathless for a moment. He feels so pathetically unalone, even though he knows intellectually that whatever Astarion is, he's no voidmoth. There's something so gently familiar about the way he handles the whip in the air; no silly arm-waving, like telekinetics in Eiffel's movies. Just will and motion. Jedao reaches out with a mothpull and gives a little tug at the handle.
Astarion lets out a delighted little laugh and tugs back. The spell isn't as powerful as it should be, the strength it can exert here is honestly pathetic, but he only ever really used it for picking locks from across a room anyway. (Maybe the occasional shove if some idiot happened to be standing on the edge of a cliff.)
"Isn't that something. You've been holding out on me, darling."
Jedao isn't trying to fight him for it; he can bring far more power to bear, but it hurts like hell, and anyway, it's not a power struggle, just a nudge. "I have been," he agrees, because it's true. "Almost everyone is human, where I came from."
He always says came from, not come from, a disjunct between himself and the world of his past.
"So I don't like letting most people see the ways I'm not." Plenty of people have seen his blood, after the latest barge disasters, but he keeps it quiet when he can. Astarion is no longer most people.
Astarion doesn't ask what he is, if not human. He might not understand
the answer and it doesn't matter much anyway. The important takeaway here
is what he's been entrusted with.
"...Thank you. I, ah, I know it can be difficult to try to keep secret
something so central to who you are."
"I'm...between ourselves, I'm happier to be here than the alternative. If
I'd just died, that would be one thing, but what I had to look forward to
was an eternity spent in the lowest Hells."
A pause.
"I'm not making a poetic remark about the sins I've committed. My soul had
been very literally promised to a devil."
"I'm feeling lovely," Jedao promises, which is true, but also he's probably about five minutes away from starting to fret about how to wrap things up without seeming callous. His erection has also mostly faded, which is another point in favor of moving. "You've done a wonderful job taking care of me. Is there anything else I can do for you before we go?"
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Astarion doesn't say anything for a while. He just loosely holds Jedao in the curve of his arm, plays with his hair.
(He thinks of Sebastian. My name sounded like a lyric on your tongue. Red eyes livid with rage, reaching through the bars of his cell to claw at his executioner. You destroyed me.)
"...I just...don't like to imagine there are things which you want that you're denying yourself because of how someone else chose to behave."
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"I don't think anyone gets everything they want, and that's alright. My life is an embarrassment of riches, these days. If I want something you don't enjoy just as much as you seemed to enjoy whipping me, I have other people in my life I can ask."
He strokes Astarion's wrist, where his arm is loose around him, along the bones of his hand.
"You proposed this, and - fuck, how perfect? I've never been whipped with that much skill. So I promise it's no deprivation to say that I'm only going to do things with you, if you're sure enough you want them to ask for them."
He laughs for a moment, soft and rueful. "I know that sounds like a trap, like I want you to guess the right thing. But I swear it's not. I like almost anything, and I like the idea of you getting to be...selfish with me. Even if it takes awhile to decide, when you've got space to avoid instead of ask. Which you do. In fact, I forbid you from answering right now. But think about it. And if you decide you do want something else - I'm yours for the asking, darling."
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Astarion doesn't respond to the 'best person who ever lived' remark, just pinches his earlobe to communicate his displeasure at the ridiculousness of it and lets him keep talking.
He wants to believe that this is entirely to do with Jedao's hangups and his experiences with someone whose 'eagerness to please' was misinterpreted in a way his own was intended to be, countless times. Hells, isn't it self-centred to even suspect otherwise?
And yet.
"...I do have a question, then."
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"You can ask me anything. Some things I might not be able to answer, but I'll just say that."
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"Of course. What did you learn about me during the flood last month?"
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"But I like to think I would have been paying enough attention to be careful anyway."
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Astarion isn't sure he believes that, and having so much of his life laid out quite so baldly isn't the most pleasant thing to hear. But he did ask. Maybe he's just easier to read than he likes to imagine, in the company of someone who's actually watching.
useless child
"I think you would," he agrees, and strokes the ear he pinched. "Personally, I would be very content to do this again just as we have, and if you'd prefer to wait to discuss anything further, I'm happy to do that."
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"But that sounds perfect."
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"Mmm. It does."
His arousal has faded now, at least, though he'll be recalling this fondly in private.
"I haven't been this pleased to win a bet in quite some time. Or allowed to win one," he adds, teasing.
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"I truly don't know if I could have done any better," Jedao admits. "I got made with a lot of weird skills built in, but I don't see how the whip would be an especially practical assassin's weapon. But I did want to be sure."
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"Oh, I'd never use a whip to kill someone. Incredibly unwieldy," he agrees. "Two knives, a shortbow, a little magic and a quiet tread have always served me perfectly well."
Up until they didn't, but no amount of stealth would have saved him in the end.
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"Magic," he agrees. "I keep forgetting that people don't just see the ears and know, here. The Admiral took most of it, but - I still have a few tricks up my sleeve, if you'd like a demonstration?"
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Although he did hear Hakkai made a blunder in that area.
"I'd love to see something, if it's not taxing?"
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"Not at all."
He casts Mage Hand - invisible to anyone but himself - and uses it to pick up the coiled whip from where it's been placed, letting it uncoil and giving it a light little spin in midair.
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"Ah-"
Astarion lets out a delighted little laugh and tugs back. The spell isn't as powerful as it should be, the strength it can exert here is honestly pathetic, but he only ever really used it for picking locks from across a room anyway. (Maybe the occasional shove if some idiot happened to be standing on the edge of a cliff.)
"Isn't that something. You've been holding out on me, darling."
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He always says came from, not come from, a disjunct between himself and the world of his past.
"So I don't like letting most people see the ways I'm not." Plenty of people have seen his blood, after the latest barge disasters, but he keeps it quiet when he can. Astarion is no longer most people.
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Astarion doesn't ask what he is, if not human. He might not understand the answer and it doesn't matter much anyway. The important takeaway here is what he's been entrusted with.
"...Thank you. I, ah, I know it can be difficult to try to keep secret something so central to who you are."
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Not suffocating silence as much as echoing empty loneliness.
"I know this might be rude to say to a prisoner, but I'm really glad you're here."
For Jedao's sake and for his own; he's not asking what Astarion had to hide, but he is listening.
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"I'm...between ourselves, I'm happier to be here than the alternative. If I'd just died, that would be one thing, but what I had to look forward to was an eternity spent in the lowest Hells."
A pause.
"I'm not making a poetic remark about the sins I've committed. My soul had been very literally promised to a devil."
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"I couldn't agree more."
He returns to touching Jedao's hair, petting lightly.
"How are you feeling now? You seem a little more...centred."
Less floaty, more focused.
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"No," he says. "No, you've been excellent company, pet. We can relinquish this place to other visitors as soon as you're ready."
He's not particularly elegant on the dismount, simply for lack of practice, so being able to couch this in terms of Jedao's needs is...easier.
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