backscar | open post

Sometimes, yes. I'm familiar.

[ Astarion had been on the other side of that often enough; crafting an illusion, the mirage of seduction, to do what was necessary for his Master. Growing away from that is a difficult process, shrugging off two centuries of shackles to try and become a person again rather than whatever he had been before.

All of them are being forced to come face to face with demons they'd rather ignore, and it has been difficult for each one. There is no denying it.

He doesn't want to talk in circles, to fall into the trap of it all, so instead - ]

And now we are growing.

[ growing, she thinks with a little gust of breath, is one word for it. trying to, at any rate, through the growing pains; like flowers left to try to survive under a desert sun. more's the point — ]

Would you look at that. A touch of optimism from you, and you didn't combust into unholy flame.

It appears you're capable of it, after all.

[ checkmate. it's the saddest checkmate ever, derived from the most tragic circumstances possible, but — a proven point is a proven point. small victories. ]

[ It's not as if their situations could get worse, surely? Tadpoles, the ever present threat of danger, the fear of never being able to overcome anything... Well, he can imagine fewer worse things. ]

Not this time, but if I try it again I'm sure it'll be the end of me.

Shall I prepare an appropriately mournful eulogy, or would you prefer to do the honors?

[ a recovering goth girl and vampire spawn walk into a camp of weirdos. the humor is predictably morbid. ]

Go ahead. I'm sure I'll be thrilled to see what you come up with.

Thrilled? Hardly. In fact, you'll be quite dead.

[ a message doesn't need to be audible to imagine the bone-dry sarcasm behind it, as it turns out. ]