PSL; OCTOBER VAMPIRE NONSENSE

[astarion]

(( well, he's back from the dead, and he's coming for your head! ))

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[selfdissecting]

[ something tells them, quietly, in the very very far reaches of their mind, that they shouldn't say. it wouldn't be wise to say.

but he wants to know.

they look down abruptly, entirely, and begin the painful, slow work of closing their knife again. ]

For... Fixing things. I'm a Fixer. And that means doing what everyone needs me to do to help them.

[astarion]

[He watches her put away her knife with the same disaffected air as usual.]

Fixing what sort of things? [His first thought is something of a mercenary. But "what everyone needs me to do to help them" is phrased rather... benevolently, he thinks, despite the sharpness of that knife.]

Things that require the cut of a blade?

[selfdissecting]

Sometimes.

[ it is simply not in Maeve's nature to lie. it takes too much confidence, and it falls apart the moment anyone suspects; to ask for the truth is to receive it. with the balisong folded, they hike their hemline and slip it into a sheath strapped to their nicked and scarred thigh.

in bowing their head down to do this, the auxiliary eyes watch Astarion. they are a simple creature to influence, and even easier to win over, but they are also a street rat at their core, and they know better than to trust, even if they can't help but to listen. ]

And sometimes it's just... getting coffee. Delivering new bodies for HR. Or stopping the end of the world. [ a wan smile ] Simple things.

[astarion]

[More and more useful, which is a good(?) thing for Maeve. To be presented more like a tool to be used, rather than a simple plaything to be used up.]

Oh, yes, so very simple. [Twisting, wry, very amused words. Been there, done that -- stopping the end of the world was great for a reputation boost, not to mention promised his continued survival in general. But that's so very several years ago. He'll have to ask their story on it someday, perhaps when his curiosity is not suddenly hinged on.]

And "HR" is...?

[I can't believe we're gotten to the point where Astarion Baldur's Gate is asking what an HR department is.]

[selfdissecting]

[ they wait for a few seconds.

but, no. he really is asking. ]

. . .Human Resources.

[astarion]

[LOOK AT HOW YE OLDE EVERYTHING IS, does it look like a Human Resource Department is a common thing in Baldur's Gate??

This doesn't precisely answer, well. Anything.]

Specifically for humans only?

[selfdissecting]

Um... mostly? I think so.

[ they remember the cadavers, but only in the abstract. a lot had been going on underneath the earth. ]

I didn't look that closely at the bodies. Sorry.

[astarion]

[Another laugh, sincerely amused but, as always, not particularly kind.]

Oh. Those kinds of resources. Wouldn’t I have loved to see that.

[Anyway!]

Well! You seem an interesting sort. I imagine you want to get back to your own plane, don’t you?

[selfdissecting]

[ —looking up sharply. not sharp in their gaze, but in speed. like the flash of a knife in the dark. their many strange eyes are all mostly... mournful. their heart aches, they think. they think it would, yes. ]

Yes. I need to go back.

[astarion]

[An eagerness to return. Yes, they very much would like to. He can use that.]

Then you should let me- [pressing that bleeding hand to his chest] -help you.

[selfdissecting]

[ now, now they step forward, pulling from the rosebushes without any concern to the thorns catching in their clothes. what are snags when compared to a promise? ]

You would do that? ...You can do that?

[astarion]

With enough time, darling, I'm certain I can whatever I like. Plus, you have me curious. And I'm not the sort of man to leave an opportunity skulking in his rosebushes, to fly off as soon as they've gotten a little spooked.

[selfdissecting]

[ it's noted. the words he chooses, very deliberately, to use; he's 'curious'. they are an 'opportunity'.

good. an opportunity doesn't get ignored. it's a purpose to fill, then, which goes a strangely long way towards calming them.

their lips lift in the vaguest of smiles. not 'happy'. more like 'accepting'. ]

Can I come out, in that case?

[astarion]

From the bushes?

[Ha, well, he certainly didn't intend on leaving them there, as he said.]

Of course. Perhaps you'd like even to come indoors.

[TO HIS LOOMING PALACE]

[selfdissecting]

[ Maeve's many-eyed gaze slides away from him—which is, perhaps, short-sighted of them—and towards the LOOMING PALACE. ]

Okay.