PSL; SUNSET HIGH AND OUR BODIES LOW

[astarion]

🐙 ✨ 🧛🏻‍♂️ ❤️
(( blood rush in a hazy glow ))

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[icyspicy]

[ It was, frankly a lot to have seen for the first time, not to mention all the stuff it was beaming into his brain at the time. ]

I'm not giving my patron a nickname. It's not a dog, or a child.

[ It is a regal and unknowable space octopus!!! ]

[astarion]

[Yeah, pretending he didn’t hear ANY of that-]

Might I suggest… Squiggles.

[icyspicy]

No.

[ ASTARION PLEASE. ]

[astarion]

Squigly?

[His turn to give you shit.]

[icyspicy]

Stop.

[ There's no real anger, though, and he can't quite help the way his faux annoyance bubbles into laughter. ]

Gods, it's a good thing you're so pretty, or you'd be insufferable.

[astarion]

[Fine, he'll stop. But not without his own brand of laughter, sincere and bright, bubbling up from his throat to join Winter's in concert.

Moments like these, and he can almost forget about all the terrible things hanging over their heads at every moment of every waking hour. Moments that only ever seem to originate from this man.]

You know what they say. It takes one to know one. Now finish off the rest of that wine while I think of other delightful nicknames to call your patron while you're not listening.

[icyspicy]

[ It's not the first time he's gotten that sincere, bright laughter out of Astarion, but every time it happens, he finds himself hoping it's not the last. It seems so strange to want to give someone a reason to laugh, especially when their circumstances are so dire, but... he wants it all the same. ]

You're hilarious.

[ But he does indeed polish off the rest of the bottle. The alcohol and the company have done a lot to smooth away the strange ball of anxiousness and fear that had coiled in him earlier. ]

Do you really want to know their name?

[astarion]

[He is hilarious, thank you.

There goes the rest of the wine. It was put to good use, as far as he's concerned. His brows hitch up at the question, still smiling.]

Why... yes. Why wouldn't I? [He's curious. A beat.] It isn't some forbidden knowledge that you can't share with me, is it? Not breaking any warlock rules?

[icyspicy]

No, but it is... rather a lot, if only because I only know how to share it in the same way it was shared with me. That is to say, directly into your head.

[ Space octopi work in mysterious ways. ]

[astarion]

[Directly into his head.]

Given that all manner of images and emotions have been relayed directly into my head these days, why should I balk at one more?

[As long as this doesn’t scramble his brain or whatever, Astarion is far from concerned about hearing some baffling name with too many consonants he can’t hope to pronounce, probably.]

Come on, let’s see it. Or hear it, I suppose.

[icyspicy]

[ He shrugs, as if to say "suit yourself" and then once again that prodding connection reaches out to Astarion's mind. Once he's allowed access, what flows through the connection is more like a series of feelings and images and events. The guttering light of a dying star, the bright and explosive births of myriad galaxies, eons of knowledge — knowledge, knowing, the desire for more, ever craving, ever giving — and the cold, vast expanse of what lies beyond the clouds.

And yet somehow, conveyed in the midst of all of that, there is also an absolute fucking mash of letters: Khaluxszhutrithrh’thod.

Told you it was a lot! Now please imagine having all of this shoved into your head in the middle of a dark temple, while you lay bleeding on the floor. No wonder he doesn't care to give voice to it. "My patron" is fine, and truly, his patron doesn't seem to mind it either. ]

[astarion]

[He lets him in—of course he does—happy share in the memories and experiences. Though what he sees this time weighs rather heavily on the cosmic side of things, the light of dying stars and the explosive nova-bursts of galaxies being born. Insatiable knowledge that extends far past his ken, more than he'd ever be able to comprehend. A vacuous space waiting to be filled in.

And then, finally, the name.

...There is no way Astarion is ever going to remember that name, much less ever pronounce it correctly. But, well. At least he "heard" it the once.

And yes, it sure is a lot. Once he's free of the memory, he leans back a little, a whole array of emotions flitting through him. Feeling overcome, awed, and even indignant on Winter's behalf.]

What in the hells was that? [tf my guy] All that went through your head while you were bleeding out?

[icyspicy]

[ Like before, he lets Astarion kind of reel back from the whole thing, lets it settle in his mind — for as much as all that could settle in anyone's mind. It's been years for Winter, and even now when he tries to recall it, the sensation is nearly overwhelming. ]

Oh, yes. [ He laughs. ] Subtlety is rather lost on something such as my patron. As you can tell, there's a bit of a difference of scale at play.

[astarion]

[He huffs out a "ha!"]

Yes, I did notice that. Just a slight difference.

[Space octopus... big.]

As for their name... Something of a tongue twister, isn't it. I suppose "Squiggles" just won't do.

[Winter wasn't kidding about that.]

[icyspicy]

[ Big... but relatively chill, at least. ]

Does that mean you've given up on the idea of a nickname?

[ He can only hope, right? ]

[astarion]

For now. Until I’m struck with inspiration. But as it stands? I’m not sure I even remember it as more than just a jumble of consonants.

[Hard to make a nickname out of that.]

Your patron really doesn’t ask for anything in return? They’re simply… happy, then, with their freedom?

[icyspicy]

[ He's spared for the moment, then, it seems. ]

Not nothing. You felt it, right? That desire for knowledge. My patron spent generations in that temple, having cultists and who knows what else siphon information out of them for generations, with nothing in return.

So, yes, they are happy with their freedom, but they also like to learn. I share things with them.

[astarion]

[Astarion did feel it, that constant want, an almost hunger -- but not in the way he experiences it, no. A desire for knowledge, to know and expand that knowledge constantly.]

What sort of things? Anything at all?

[His patron, then, must be thrilled about the veritable library of books they've picked up during their travels, Astarion thinks to himself wryly.]

[icyspicy]

Anything at all.

[ His patron has been learning so many things lately. Not just from the books, but about tadpoles and Sharrans and vampires and druids and— well, you get it. ]

[astarion]

Hm.

[Not a bad price for power at all.]

Have you been sharing things… about me?

[icyspicy]

Why? Does that notion bother you?

[astarion]

I can't really say.

[Does it bother him? It's more of a strange thought than it is a discomforting one.]

That depends, really.

[icyspicy]

On? What I've been telling them?

[ Astarion do you think Winter just gossips to his patron about his crushes all day or-? ]

[astarion]

[ 1) You mean you don’t? and 2) is he a CRUSH?

Anyway, he teases-]

Yes, if they’re all only flattering things. What if they don’t approve, after all?

[icyspicy]

[ WHAT IF HE IS A CRUSH HUH? But also his patron still doesn't quite understand more human matters. They observe everything with a polite, academic sort of interest. Things like love (or the inklings thereof) are not exactly on their radar. ]

I don't go seeking their approval for every little thing I do, or the people I choose to keep company with.

But don't worry, I've been sure to tell them how devastatingly handsome you are.