finalflight | PSL; SUNSET HIGH AND OUR BODIES LOW

[(He deserves it. But later.)

Right now, the vampire is doing his level best to wrap his mind around this — even though he was the one who ushered in the conversation in the first place.]

Really?

[Like it’s such a hard thing to believe. And to hear it stated so simply.]

Do it really mean that? Because it’s more than just relationships that didn’t last longer than a couple of nights for me. No, for me, they were “relationships” garnered by manipulation and seduction. All for the sake of bringing targets back to Cazador to be drained dry — if not compelled by flattery, then by my body instead.

And it was all so empty. It all meant nothing.

[Astarion has been starved of any real intimacy for so, so long. He doesn’t know what the real thing looks like anymore.]

And I don’t want that to ruin us. What we have, whatever that might be. But all of that emptiness, that nothingness… I still feel as though it’s dragging at my ankles, trying so hard to trip me over, even at times when I’m with you.

Edited (I lost a word!!) 2023-09-20 04:16 (UTC)

Really.

[ It is simple for him, especially by comparison. For Astarion, it’s clearly anything but – and Winter woefully lacks the sense of scale needed to truly fathom what Astarion has been through, though he is trying. If he’s lucky, he’ll see 200 years in the whole of his life, but Astarion has had his personhood stripped from him for at least that long, with so many more years of some unknown future to come.

Gods, he wants nothing more than to protect this man. To make sure he never has to be anyone’s tool ever again. ]

I wish I had some neat little answer for you, some magic words I could say to make all that go away, but I don’t. All I can do is promise to be patient, and to listen.

I… I care about you a lot, you know. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.

[If only there were a few little magical words that would wipe clean those two hundred years. He wonders how things would have turned out differently.

But there aren’t. And this is the wretched hand he’s been dealt. But for the first time in a long, long while, he’s begun to feel hopeful. Seen. And he has Winter to thank for all of it.]

I care about you, too. [More and more as the days drag by. The degrees keep piling up, and he finds himself caring more than he’s ever cared for anyone or anything in the past.] And perhaps that’s all I can ask for, is for you to be patient with me. For a little while yet.

[Long enough to unwind 200 years of baggage? Maybe he’ll sort himself out before however long that actually is.

Despite everything, his look lingers on Winter, and something seems to finally break — in a good way. A smile sincerely cracks across his features, still a little wan but fully present.]

Well. [He waggles his free hand, not knowing what to do or say now.] Isn’t this exciting? Or nerve-racking. I’m not entirely sure which. But figuring it out together, figuring us out together... I do like the sound of that.

I'll be patient for as long as you need, darling.

[ Darling. How many times has that escaped his lips when talking to Astarion. It feels different, now. Not some heated thing he says to coax Astarion over the edge when they're tangled up together. This is something soft and gentle and sweet, and just for Astarion. It means something now, and isn't that thrilling in its own way?

A thrill that is only amplified when he sees that smile. What a lovely smile it is. ]

It's both, I think. Exciting and nerve-wracking. [ He leans over, closing the space between them to rest a hand on the side of Astarion's face, thumb brushing along the arc of his cheekbone. ] I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this with.

[Darling. Indeed, a word that has been the measure of his undoing more than once, but this time, it's uttered so, so sweetly. So kindly. It makes him ache, and it makes him absolutely adore this man. Gods, is this what it's like to truly care for someone?

He leans into Winter's touch almost instinctively. This kind of affection feels all the more poignant now. The kind he never sought, and the kind he feels every fibre of his being long for.

Perhaps he's just a wee bit touched starved. His own hand reaches up to encircle his fingers gently around Winter's wrist.]

Of course. There's no one quite like me, you know.

[Cheeky, if lightly spoken. But then, more seriously-]

And there's certainly no one at all like you, my dear.

[ It's freeing, having this out in the open, even if there's a great expanse of unknown laid out before them. But being able to touch Astarion like this, to call him darling and be called dear in return, knowing it's genuine... it makes him feel lighter. For a moment, he can forget about the many troubles that plague them. Forget, even, that they're deep behind enemy lines.

As if drawn by some invisible string, he shifts to close the rest of the distance between them, getting up on his knees so he can curl his arms around Astarion's shoulders and pull him close. ]

[Being this far behind enemy lines means so little at times like these, when Winter makes him feel safe. All their worries and trials and tribulations will return to them posthaste, of course, but not right now.

And certainly not when Winter brings him into a warm embrace.

His eyes widen. He really... doesn’t know what to do with himself, and it’s only by some miracle that he has enough awareness to set his glass down with one hand.]

I—

[But the uncertainty fades away in a few seconds’ time. This kind of affection—true, sincere affection—is alien to hm, but he’s drawn into it, too, as though magnetized by the gesture.

And so, finally, his own arms wrap around Winter; so much broader than him, so much to hold. The vampire dips his face down to nestle against his shoulder, much like he did not so long ago…]

Thank you. Again.

[ He can feel the uncertain way Astarion tenses, like he has no idea what to do with the embrace. And why should he? Has anyone ever genuinely hugged him in the last two centuries?

If not, Winter is glad to be the first. He's also glad to just enjoy this, to let Astarion finally melt into it and wrap his arms around him in turn. ]

I think I should be thanking you. For letting me in.

[No, he has never experienced a hug quite like this one in two long, dreadful centuries.

And Astarion just lets it linger for a moment, holding on steadfast, feeling Winter's warmth and taking in the scent of his hair. His fingertips press into his back, and his shoulders rise with a huff. Gratitude and fond amusement exist in his reply, imparting a half-joke.]

Oh, you thank me now. Give it a bit, and see if you'll be thanking me later.

One step at a time, hm?

[ He's aware that 200 years of baggage won't make for the easiest of times but... he thinks that for this, for Astarion, he can endure.

He angles his head to press a kiss to the vampire's temple, in his own little echo of those moments Astarion spent in his arms. ]

[Ah, one step at a time. Truly the mark of patience, and one that he might come to feel indebted to in time.

When Winter presses that kiss against his temple, and Astarion smiles a little wider. He eases himself back just a touch, enough to where he can angle just right to offer him one in return -- a soft press against the warlock's lips. Another thank you of sorts, but this one goes unspoken.]

[ Oh, he will gladly return that kiss, sweet and simple and chaste. A completely different change of pace for the both of them, but wholly welcome. ]

This does not give you leave to jump into the jaws of any more monsters, by the way.

[ He's teasing!!! ]

[A very different change of pace from the usual, but that has meaning, too, doesn't it? Signifying a sea change between them.]

As long as you refrain from standing in the path of any more eyestalk-blasts. [He's going to tease right back.] If you end up dying after all this, I'm going to be very angry with you.

And let you get the last word in? Perish the thought.

[ We just won't think about how Astarion will outlive him anyway. :) ]

[~~guess we'll just have to go the ascended route and turn you into an undead bf, huh~~]

Good. Then I'll hold you to that. [He leans back enough to take in the whole of Winter's expression, smiling.] In the meantime, this quaint little change between us [he means making themselves Official] deserves some celebration, don't you think?

[ ~~how is that the good end tho~~

He leans back a little, if only so he can peer down at Astarion in his arms. He lifts a brow. ]

Is that not what we’re doing right now? Celebrating.

[~~i never said anything about good~~

He arches a brow in return.]

No, what we're doing now is what I hope will become the gold standard between us, time and time again.

[During moments of privacy, anyway.]

I can hardly argue with that.

[ Just spending time like this, in one another's company, in one another's arms, close and content and comforting, sounds like a wonderful habit to form. ]

So, what did you have in mind?

[Astarion reaches over to pick up his once-forgotten glass of wine.]

Finish off our wine, for one. I went to all the trouble of whisking it away, after all.

[AKA he stole it. Not that it was hard.]

After that... Well, I'd say we could just take a turn around great outdoors, enjoy the view beneath the moonlight. But the environment here is a bit too, ah... shadowy for my tastes.

[ Oh, he definitely stole it. It's a good thing Winter thinks that's funny. Winter approves. ]

Gods, I do miss the stars. [ Let him see the sky again!! ] But... I suppose I've one of my own, now.

[...Oh.

Again, funny how Winter can make his heart feel like it's aflutter in his chest when it's just an undead thing. But the sensation is a little thrill that shoots through him all the same, and with the flattery comes the faintest bit of fluster, too.]

Careful, darling. I'll start to think you're a romantic with words like that.

[ He breathes out a little laugh, and reaches up to brush his fingers through Astarion's hair. Astarion is so cute when he flusters, even just a little bit. ]

For all you know, I very well could be. I guess you'll have to stick around and find out for sure.

[Nnnnooo you can perceive him being open about his lack of meaningful relationships, but not his slight tinges of embarrassment!!]

Ha. Like I planned on doing anything less.

[Ahem.]

Now, then. Give us a toast of some sort and then finish your wine.

[ He literally can't help it, I'm sorry.

Anyway, he picks up his yet-untouched glass of wine, considering what to say for a moment. ]

To us, then. To this being something... real.

[Rude as heck.]

And... [He raises his glass in turn, something fond in his eyes despite the acute tilt of his grin.]

To figuring out exactly what that means.

[To a future where they survive just long enough to find out.]

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