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[weaponwithoutpurpose]

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[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Oh absolutely."

But he finishes drying and opens the door to the bedroom. He nudges Mae off the bed as he dresses only in boxers, giving Astarion a nice comfortable robe. It doesn't fit Jacob, and...he didn't get it for himself anyway.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion wraps himself up in it happily, glancing down at the way it drapes and hangs.

"Why did you choose this one? It wouldn't fit-"

The penny drops, and a faint pink dusts his cheeks.

"Ah. I - thank you."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"It's nothing," he tells him, suddenly very interested in getting his DVD player up and running. The screen is definitely not up enough - better push it back down.

He eventually finds his way and gestures for Astarion to join him on the bed.

"So, this isn't a movie. It's a show about idiots who think they can survive in the wild. They have challenges to complete. And they get to vote each other off. Whoever lasts longest wins."

[sixfeetofdirt]

He lays down alongside him, snuggling in a little.

"Ah. So it's for...people in their homes to laugh at idiots trying to survive in some far-off wilderness?"

Ritual humiliation! He gets that.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yes, but there's also the sort of people who think they could do better."

He starts it up, letting it go through the lives of the contestants. "Like me."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"You actually did live in the wilderness," Astarion laughs. "I assume that would count as cheating for these people."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Exactly," he laughs. "But I can still judge them for it. Just wait until they start voting people off."

He holds him close, pressing a kiss to his temple.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Voting. They could never have the likes of this in Faerun. People would start getting ideas."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He watches as they start dragging firewood underneath a tower for their challenge, tutting at their efforts.

"What do you have there? A king or - something like that?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"It depends on where you are. Baldur's Gate has a council of four Grand Dukes, elected by the Parliament of Peers - fifty 'trusted citizens'," he's not quite using airquotes, but he's got opinions about how trustworthy the Parliament actually is. "As far as I know, the first Parliament was selected by the Council, and vacant seats are usually handed down to the heirs of whoever vacated them."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He isn't surprised. "That kind of thing breeds corruption and complacency. Why work for the people when you know the power is going to be there no matter what?"

One of the teams has managed to get the wet Amazon rainforest wood to light, at least.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Precisely. A quarter of their number are drawn from the Lower City, apparently so that the 'normal people' are represented, but even those quarters have some pockets of impressive wealth. And strangely, joining Parliament tends to make one wealthier still," he drawls. "It might have been an ambition of mine to become a member, at one point."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Mm, then you'd be even more of a fancy little fucker," he mutters, tightening that arm around his waist.

"It's why I lead the way I do. If any of my soldiers could best me, then they deserved whatever they wanted. The strong survive."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Was that something they did often? Try to best you - gods, these people just don't know how fires work, do they?" he adds, frowning at the screen.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Nope," he says to both questions. "And not everyone can make fire by magic. Plus, the wood's wet from the rainforest. They chose the wrong wood and don't have a stockpile of dried branches."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Even I know you need fuel you can burn," he grouses. "If we used magic to help this process along at camp, it was more often to dry the wood than to create the spark."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Hm. Look at you, getting dirty in the dirt," he teases. One of the fires start to catch and burns through the rope above it. Two more ropes to burn and that team will win.

"And now they're going to out more wood on it and smother it because they're idiots."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I hated every moment of it, I assure you," Astarion says. "Damned near four months trekking across the Sword Coast and I was in a leaking tent for three of them - oh, you were right."

More damp wood, more smoke, less fire.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Told you."

They're so predictable. He gets too annoyed watching them fail and instead decides to press a kiss against Astarion's neck.

"What did you do for the other month?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"We were back in the Gate by then. Finally able to bargain for a roof over our heads - the rooms above a tavern in the Lower City. Not the most restful of locations, but at least I didn't have to worry about a bear bumbling into my tent."

Halsin notwithstanding.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"But a real bed must be better than a cot. To you."

The other team finally figures their shit out and the ropes burn easily, so he's happily to return his attention to it.

"I miss being out in the woods. I need to teach you about glamping."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Glamping?"

Faerûn isn't quite as big on portmanteau as Earth.

"Sounds terrible. What is it?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"I don't really know. Glamorous camping. Not a leaky tent, but a comfortable uh...yurt? Big tent with all the amenities inside. Big bed, comfortable shit. Electricity with air and heat."

The kind of shit Jacob despises, but he's willing to make this exception.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Sounds tolerable. And you'd be outside hunting wild animals so it's still authentic enough for you?" he teases.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah. Making a fire the right way. Sitting in a tree all day. But I wouldn't mind an actual bed. Camping in a leaky tent is fun, but not when you're in the comfortable bed."