open post pt. 2.

[nibbling]

the other one got too big.

Comments

[nibbling]

It's kind of annoying for Bull to smile when they're talking about his potential death. Astarion has never had a friend before, and it would be extremely unpleasant to have the only one he's ever made instantly die. He can't fucking say something lame like that, though, so: "I just think it would be embarrassing for you if you died right after returning, that's all." A shrug. "On second thought, as long as I can take your belongings, you're free to get charred to death by a dragon all you like."

[qunlat]

"Hrm. Good way to go." Bull's come too close to his own death too many times to be bothered by it. He squints at Astarion. "Trust me, you wouldn't know what to do with half my stuff. But not even one tear? Hurtful."

[nibbling]

Astarion can't even remember the last time he cried. Isn't sure he's capable of it anymore, or if it's one of the many things that got beaten out of him. He imagines he'd probably be more angry than sad if Bull were to die in some stupid way, like getting incinerated by a dragon. It would be very rude of him to make Astarion like him right before dying.

"Perhaps I might... sniff," is the closest thing to a concession he's willing to offer.

[qunlat]

"Moot point anyway, I'll be fine." He drums his fingers on the back of the chair. "If they even let me go. I'm about six months out of practice — knocking heads together for the Guild barely counts."

[nibbling]

Astarion tries not to look like he's happy about that, only partially succeeding. "How unfortunate," he says, not sounding particularly sad. "Well, I suppose you can still make yourself useful by showing me around." Which is way more important than some stupid battle for the fate of the world!!!

[qunlat]

"I mean, you're no dragon, but I can give you the tour," Bull says. "You should sleep first — sorry, trance. On your big soft bed."

[nibbling]

Astarion flops onto his back, body lying perpendicular to the mattress. He already tried to sneak in a little trance, but even putting the circumstances aside, it's difficult to get comfortable here after centuries of sleeping on a small, lumpy bed surrounded by other vampires.

"Perhaps I will," he says regardless, already shifting a little with restlessness. "If you aren't going to tell me a bedtime story, then I suppose you're dismissed."

[qunlat]

"If it'd help you sleep easier I can stick around," says Bull, aware it's too earnest an offer and likely to activate Astarion's infinite prickles, but he can't think of a way to frame it. He's not unfamiliar with the hypervigilance that comes with trying to sleep in a new place. Probably he makes a better door guard than Charter.

[nibbling]

"That's rather presumptuous," Astarion says as he sits back up, visibly puffed up like an angry cat. It's not that he's annoyed by the thought of Bull sticking around; he's annoyed that Bull couldn't come up with some sort of excuse to stay so that he didn't have to embarrass himself by asking. Ugh, apparently he has to do everything around here.

"...Mm," he says after a moment of thought. "I see. Clearly, you've been tasked by that Inquisitor of yours to linger here and make sure I don't steal anything." He's actually eighty percent sure that's why he's had a woman standing outside of his door this whole time, but he's pretty sure Bull isn't here to stop his sticky fingers. "Well. If you must."

[qunlat]

Bull wants to ask what Astarion thinks he'd even steal, but it seems to run contrary to what he's aiming for here, so he (sensibly) shuts the fuck up instead. "Guess I must."

He comes around the chair he's been leaning his forearms on and takes an actual seat, slumped somewhat perpendicular to Astarion. Settling to stay a while. Good thing there's a battle for everyone in the castle to gossip about.

[nibbling]

Astarion settles back on his pillows proper, still atop the covers. A pause, and then he crawls under them, pulling them up to his chin like a child afraid of the dark. He turns onto his side, facing Bull, and then turns away.

Back to Bull: "So you're just going to sit there and stare the whole time, or...?"

[qunlat]

A huff of a chuckle, because yeah. Fair enough. "Wasn't planning on it."

The room has a desk, at least; Bull drags the chair over to it, the legs making an awful noise against the floor, and then settles again heaveily. Fishes through the little drawers for paper. He can spend the time writing a more detailed report, get Leliana off his dick.

An elbow on the wood, glancing sidelong, gaze drawn back to Astarion regardless.

[nibbling]

Astarion, still restless, rolls around uncomfortably until he winds up on his back, arms at his sides as he assumes a meditative position. He closes his eyes, dead lungs filling as he takes a breath in and out.

Five minutes pass, and he still hasn't made any headway into trancing, mind racing far too much to enter any sort of meditative state. He peeks one red eye open, although it's unnecessary. He knows Bull is still there, because he's been hyperaware of the sounds in the room, listening to see if Bull will just up and abandon him despite his offer to stay.

"...I told you this bed is too soft," he complains, although that's not really the reason he can't relax.

[qunlat]

The quill is small and a little silly-looking in Bull's hand, both of them caught looking at each other. Bull slowly leans back in his chair. "You want me to get you a bedroll and you can sleep on the floor?" Bull asks, in a tone that more accurately conveys okay, Goldilocks. He'd do it, he just doesn't think that's the problem any more than the amount of pillows.

[nibbling]

"The floor?" is offended. Gods, that's worse than the lumpy bunk beds. "No, I think I got my fill of sleeping on the ground yesterday."

So, yeah, he's just complaining for the sake of complaining. "Perhaps—" A moment of hesitation here. "Well, perhaps it's only uncomfortable because I'm..." Astarion sighs, a little melodramatic. "So sore."

[qunlat]

Astarion is inventing plastic by being so transparent right now. Bull exhales through his nose with the faintest little twitch of his lips. "We did spend a while on horseback today." Like, even for him, that was a hard ride. He puts the quill down again, turning further towards Astarion. And because he's nice, he doesn't make him ask. "You want another massage?" Not like it's in any way a hardship for him.

[nibbling]

This is still making him ask!!! In Astarion's perfect fantasy world, Bull would be on his knees, begging Astarion to please let him rub his back. This whole 'expressing wants' thing is still very difficult for him; he feels like surely he's going to get mocked and derided any moment.

He can never just say 'yes' to anything. Instead, he sits up and shrugs. "Well, if you're offering. I know how very badly you need practice."

[qunlat]

The chair scrapes along the floor with another ugly noise as Bull gets up, comes over. The mattress, like a cloud, dips deep under his weight when he sits. He's fully aware that Astarion is an emotional pretzel, but that's also what held his interest back when they first met. Everything since then has just been learning which threads to tug to untangle him a little.

"There's not much you can ask for that I won't just say yes to, Astarion," he says, tugging at the covers. Apparently just ignoring the attempt to make this something he needs.

[nibbling]

Astarion turns his head, squints. Part of him wants to snap at Bull, tell him to stop being so nice to him. It makes Astarion feel strange to be the recipient of it, and strange is scary. On the other hand, it's been a very long time since he's asked for something and gotten it, and he kind of likes it.

A brief pause, and then he wriggles out from under the covers. "Do the legs first." He needs to get warmed up before he can muster up the bravery to bare his back.

[qunlat]

The regimented way of the qun still seeps into Bull's habits, sometimes, which is why as he turns and kneels on the bed by Astarion's legs it would be easy to have déjà vu: it's the exact same position as yesterday. He even starts with his hand in the same position behind Astarion's knee, lifting his leg up to stretch.

"Might hurt worse," he admits, which probably seems like an impossibility but all the pressure points are still going to be sensitive from the last massage. "Just tap out if it gets too much, we can take a break." Though he's also slowly learning Astarion's pain threshold.

[nibbling]

Hm. It's a little weird how habitual Bull is about this, but not necessarily in a bad way. It's anxiety-soothing to feel as if he knows exactly what to expect, if he can predict where he's going to be touched and prepare himself before it actually happens.

Astarion would usually jump at the chance to complain about discomfort, but the fact that Bull almost seems to expect him to be too weak to handle it makes him puff up and preemptively grit his teeth. "I won't need to tap out," he says, defensive even though he just told Bull that he's precious, delicate cargo yesterday. "You'd be surprised what I can bear."

[qunlat]

"I bet you can take a lot of pain," Bull agrees warmly, like that's something to be proud of instead of the product of whatever Astarion's gone through. "But you don't have to, so."

Bull's still kinda mentally chasing his own tail (metaphorical tail) about how and why they got back here again, but he puts it aside as a pointless question and just does what he does. Pre-empts further huffing by holding his leg in place and pressing into the first pressure point near the hip, and letting Astarion decide how he's going to handle how that feels. It's still very satisfying, in a way completely detached from Astarion as a person, to unlock his knotted up muscles with skilled fingers. Maybe he should have been a masseuse instead of a hired killer.

[nibbling]

The stretch of his leg feels good, actually, and Astarion is just thinking about how surprisingly nice it feels to be touched in this wholly nonthreatening way. It's like seeing a displacer beast in a cage, exposure to something scary that can't actually hurt him. At least, that's what he's thinking until Bull's fingers dig into that incredibly tender knot, and suddenly his eyes are widening and he's squirming in place to try to tolerate it, letting out a strangled and surprised, "I thought you were just exaggerating."

He doesn't tap out, though, determined to tough it out. Then Bull moves on to the next spot, and it's even more sensitive than the last, and he can't help it. It's been a long, long time since he's said this word—no point in saying it when no one's listening—but he squeezes his eyes shut, heated embarrassment already crawling up his neck as he says, "Stop."

[qunlat]

It's a sharp brake, Bull taking his hand away completely and immediately; the other one loosens his grip on Astarion's calf, less holding him than letting him keep resting his leg there — but aware of Astarion's body language, ready to stop touching him entirely if that's the vibe.

"No problem. Take a breath," he suggests, voice gone low, eyes on Astarion's face.

[nibbling]

Even though it runs counter to everything Bull has ever done since the first moment they met, Astarion still somehow expects him to ridicule, to deride, to ignore the request completely. It's just how this works. He's tensed up all over waiting for it, like someone bracing for a punch, and when it doesn't come, he cracks open one eye and then another, muscles slowly slackening again.

"Oh." This is really, really weird. Weirder than any interaction he's had with Bull so far, which is saying something. It feels good, though, just like that displacer beast in a cage again.

"No, it's fine. I was just surprised. You can keep going." The moment Bull makes a move to do just that, he says, under less distress now, "—Actually, I changed my mind. Stop." This time, his eyes are open and watching Bull, hypervigilant for any signs that he's put out by this, testing how much power he actually has in this situation.