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[weaponwithoutpurpose]

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Re: Spam

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

It isn't hard to see the movement, even in the dim light of the room, and he sighs.

"Yeah, figure that would hurt, then. Still, would rather have no fucking death toll."

He eases himself back onto the bed, his whole body aching, though he rests a hand still on Astarion's.

"What happened to him? In the end?"

Spam - Sorry, claiming a do-over because that was ooc misinterpretation :x

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Not very much. A few people picked fights or had choice words."

John had reached into his head and used what he'd found to terrorise him, but he hadn't even said Astarion's name. He might not have done anything at all if not for his precious Arthur being the one Cazador had picked on. Fuck. What does he even care?

Re: Spam - No problem at all!

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"And so he disappeared into the fucking ether," he mutters, feeling that anger well up in him again, hot and furious, for half a second. It wasn't fair.

And then it's gone.

None of this made any fucking difference. He's just one loud mouth in the sea of picked fights, and, in the end, no one got what they fucking deserved.

"What a cunt."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I couldn't have put it better myself."

He sighs.

"He left me a note. I don't know if I'm going to read it and then burn it, or just...skip a step."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He shakes his head. "Burn it. He doesn't have any fucking power over you. No goods gonna come of reading that shit."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion pats Jacob's hand lightly.

"You're not wrong, my sweet. Did Faith leave anything for you?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Jacob laughs. "You're getting pretty fucking cozy with the pet names, you know," he grumbles playfully.

"She didn't leave me anything except the memory of what it's like to fuck Father Vincent. She's not actually my sister. Did I ever tell you that?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"You did not," Astarion says, with a little sympathetic wince for him. It doesn't seem like a memory he particularly wants to have.

"What is she to you, exactly?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"It's complicated."

He taps Astarion's hand as he talks, not even seeming to notice. "My middle brother Joseph had a wife. Her name was Faith. She was pregnant with their daughter and was in an accident. Faith died and the baby - died, too."

That's a story for another time.

"Anyway, he keeps finding these women, young and blonde, who need help. Usually addicted to some drug. Brings them in and calls them sister and they're obsessed with him. And when they see through him, he finds another one, names her Faith and makes her push the previous one off a fucking cliff."

Jacob lets out a long breath. "It's real fucked up."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"....Not an ideal way to acquire siblings, and I say that with some experience," Astarion murmurs, gazing up at the ceiling. "How long does a particular 'Faith' tend to last?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He turns on his side with a soft grunt of effort.

"Long enough to count, but not long enough to matter. There's been three now. Lana. Selena. And now Rachel. I don't tend to get to know them well."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I don't think I would, either. At least the 'siblings' I acquired along the way were fairly consistent. The ones who weren't going to last were thinned out quickly."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"You hate 'em all?" he wonders softly.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"...No. Cazador wanted us to. He played favourites, pitted us against one another - he even kept better quarters for those who played his games best. He couldn't bear the idea that we might take comfort from each other's company. But when I was able to get away...I don't know. I just pitied them."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

It's smart. He hates that it's smart.

"Don't reas the note," he tells him, one hand on his arm. "You got nothing to prove to him. Or any of the others."

Which is rich coming from him, but he's trying.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I know."

Astarion laughs bitterly.

"He'd only be telling me that it's somehow my fault that the Admiral poached me, instead of permitting the death my master designed for his children."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"That's what he fucking wanted the Admiral for."

Jacob winces. "Well fuck him. And fuck the Admiral, too. He doesn't know half the shit that goes on in his own ship, but wants to play god."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"It makes me feel rather special, imagining such powerful entities squabbling over what's left of my immortal soul," Astarion says, in grim humour. "But I agree. Fuck the lot of them."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Jacob isn't a gentle and tenderhearted person. Not even under his gruff exterior. But he softens here, too exhausted to be truly angry, but too aware of the misdeeds to be truly complacent.

He pulls himself up ad Astarion talks, grabbing his water bottle and taking a long drink.

"Could there have been a worse fucking pick for you?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Absolutely not," Astarion says, through a bitter laugh. "I don't remember my real family. They would have just been visiting strangers."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He snorts. "I could have had a few worse ones. You learn anything valuable out of your experience, inmate?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"...John has less of a spine than I credited him with," Astarion says, after a few moments' thought. "How valuable that knowledge is, I'm not sure. What about you, inmate?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He tilts his head. Unfortunate, but fair.

"You tell me," he sighs. "Did it mean anything to say what I did? I've been challenging fuckers like him my whole life. Not always for as good of a cause, though."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion twitches a smile, then rolls onto his side to look at Jacob.

"...it was stupid, and reckless, and utterly futile. It accomplished less than nothing. And I wouldn't have thought less of you if you'd just walked away."

He leans in to kiss him fleetingly.

"But I...I still like that you didn't."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

The kiss is entirely unexpected, but there's a knot that seems to unclench in his chest. Everything had been futile in his goddamn life, so to have one thing go right, mean something to someone, makes the whole thing almost worth it.

He slings an arm around Astarion's middle.

"I uh - lost your dagger, though."