#underdarken

[crookedtouch]

@underdarken / starter call.

“ Darling, you know I love your little menagerie of… pets, ” he begins, emphasizing the word pets with such disdain it’s clear that he doesn’t think they’re that at all. Astarion is certain that Ark has caught him on more than one occasion daydreaming about how an owl bear’s blood would taste (or what petting all those glorious feathers would feel like, but he’s not ready to admit that yet), and he’s made his dislike of the dog known as well. 

He’s very much a cat person–respects them, really. When they’ve had enough affection they simply slink away into the shadows. They’re not demanding or clingy or anything the flea bitten mutt is. Why couldn’t they pick up one of those over all of this?

Then there’s the spider. The spider that looks at him like he’s the meal every time he so much as touches Arkezet with his pinky. It’s intolerable. And creepy. Astarion fully expects to come too from his nightly meditations to being mauled by the wretched thing. 

“ But can you have the spider please stop eyeing me like I’m a particularly large bug, ” he finishes, his mouth turned sharply down.

[weavewilled]

arcana ! — dnd 5e skills ( accepting enthusiastically ) / @underdarken

roll result: 22 (14 + 3 int modifier + 5 proficiency bonus)

HE’S  ALMOST  TOO  EAGER;  he  gestures  with  some  mild  impatience  for  the  book,  strapped  with  intricate  clasps  that  are  engraved  with  beautiful  glyphs  —  it  looks  almost  mechanical  in  nature,  and  is  clasped  'round  so  tight  that  there’s  no  hope  in  forcing  it  open.  ❝  Here,  let  me  see  it, I've seen something like this before.  ❞  

He  takes  it  with  care,  letting  the  spine  rest  in  his  splayed  palm.  Years  spent  with  little  but  a  tressym  and  books  for  company  —  of  the  magical  sort  and  mundane  —  make  this  a  familiar  extension  of  his  knowledge,  but  more  than  that,  it  tickles  some  old  memory  of  something  he  had  dealt  with  years  ago.  

A  knowing  snaps  into  place — usually these things have some kind of magical key, created and ensorcelled originally to prevent casually prying eyes.  ❝  There  should  be  a  crystal  here  with  it.  Small,  usually,  oh,  this  big  ——  ❞  And  he  snaps  to  it,  tucking  the  book  under  his  arm  and  moving  to  start  rifling  through  drawers,  through  the  bookshelves.  ❝  Yes!  Here  we  go.  ❞  It  was  tucked  near where  the  book  lay,  and  it’s  slim  and  glowing  a  pale  blue.  ❝  Now  ——  it  should  go  right  ——  yes!  Hah!  Clever.  ❞

He  thumbs  it  into  a  small  space  between  the  clasps,  and  the  book  surges  in  a  bright  blue  glow.  All  the  clasps  unclick  and  ease  open,  and  allow  him  to  open  the  book  all  the  way,  though  a  quick  skim  of  the  contents  makes  something  uneasy  wedge  thick  in  his  throat.  ❝  It’s  ——  ❞  And  his  brows  furrow  tight,  and  he  paces  as  he  skims.  ❝  ——  it’s  talking  about  infusing  souls  in  automatons,  with  a  side  of  necromancy.  I  think  they  were  trying  to  raise  the  dead  and  put  the  dead’s  soul  into  the  automaton,  which  ——  intellectually,  crude  but  ——  clever  enough.  ❞  He  grimaces.  ❝  This  is  how  we  end  up  fighting  zombie  machines,  isn’t  it.  ❞

[crookedtouch]

@underdarken sent: buries their face in his shoulder and inhales ! / unprompted (always accepting)

“ Enjoying yourself, are you? ”

Astarion raises a hand to tangle into their braid. He’s hedging his bets that if he touseles it just right, Arkezet will take down their hair and he can run his fingers through it in earnest. He understands, he really does, why they keep it away from the flames they favor, but that doesn’t mean he can’t press his luck.

Play with fire, some may say. 

He leans down to press a kiss to the tip of their ear. “ Have I done anything in particular that has made you so affectionate, my love? ”

[crookedtouch]

@underdarken sent: it's cold and quiet, so they bring their blankets and pillows and curl up beside him. / unprompted (always accepting)

The quiet nights of the camp still remain a novelty to Astarion. The gentle hum of almost-summer insects and the fresh blooms are at odds with the brine and other pungent odors of Baldur’s Gate. Even the moon and stars are more pristine without either fog or the smog of industry to obscure them. 

The cold, however, remains something that doesn’t touch Astarion. And why would it? He’s been a corpse for longer than he was ever alive. 

So when Arkezet, the furnace that they are, comes to curl up next to him, something stirs in his chest. Not his heart, of course. That still hasn’t restarted, even with the tadpole molding him into some semblance of a living thing. It seems almost instinctive, the need to curl an arm around them and pull them closer. 

“ Looking to cuddle tonight, my love? ” Astarion’s teasing, as if he isn’t the one pulling Arkezet closer.

[crookedtouch]

@underdarken said: "we meet again, as predicted." / unprompted (always accepting)

“ Funny, that. It’s almost like we live together. ”

Except there’s nothing funny about it at all. He can still recall the moment Arkezet decided their end goals were more important than self-immolation. And, of course, the many dissonant hours afterwards where he grappled with losing them, the sun, and potentially everything in between. It feels like a bruise, and if pressed upon still causes aftershocks of pain. 

He lounges across a chaise he pilfered in the aftermath of the Elder Brain’s destruction. While the sun burns high, there’s little for him to do but wait for nightfall. Books spread out in front of him, a veritable feast of research notes on vampirism, inter-dimensional travel, and even a torrid romance novel. 

“ I do hope you had better luck planning our next move than I did, Mighty Savior of the Gate. ”

[archivestarlyht]

❝ I feel so much more at ease here. ❞ ( ark talking to sad dragon dad/mal, maybe? )

TWILIGHT PRINCESS SENTENCE STARTERS

“city is a bit mad lately,  isn't it?”   the dragon mage asked with some weariness.  when he came to baldur's gate with his husband,  mal had been hoping that it would be a little more peaceful than their own home.  he finished up bottling the potion he'd crafted for them and corked it,  then rested his chin on the backs of his hands.

he'd noted the scales on their face with interest.  “you know,”   he mused,   “i used to have that problem when i was younger.”   finding a new shape was more difficult than a young dragon was prepared for.  that was some time ago,  but he remembered it clearly.  “you should grow out of it eventually.”  he'd also been unusually adept at the arcane,  even for a dragon,  but he thought it wouldn't hurt to be reassuring.  this one clearly had much to learn.

[haresvoid]

“&– - Oh I'm actually quite familiar with the Underdark. I might even see some familiar faces that.... honestly best to avoid. Some actually would quite prefer my head on a pike believe it or not.” // @underdarken liked for a Kasaen starter !

[crookedtouch]

@underdarken said: ❝ I have to say, you know me better than I thought. I'll have to be more mysterious in future. ❞ / prompt.

“ I’ve already read you like a book, my sweet little arsonist, ” Astarion says, over exaggerating the purr in his voice. It’s true that most people are the same–they have the same wants, same needs, and he has learned over the centuries the exact way to meet them. Arkezet is… different. In many regards. But that doesn’t mean that they’re immune to his cunning. 

“ But I welcome the challenge. ”