[ sometimes you think but they’d never talk about this!! and then you remember it’s like three long rest conversations before astarion as his most distrustful outs some things about himself so.
we play fast and loose for the cr. ]
Well, I arrived covered in his blood so you tell me.
I meant for your cult buddies. Imagine plotting a nefarious plan for 200 years and getting creamed right at the finish line.
[Making light of it helps shave off the edge of awkwardness. It's a violent confession, uncomfortable, but not intimate. Not in any way that she might discern.
He doesn't seem open to sweet words of comfort anyhow.]
I'd toast to your good health if I had a drink. You'll have to settle with plain well wishes instead.
no subject
[Camille folds one leg over the other. Staying put.]
Or we could talk about something else. Or one of us could leave.
[To get interrogated by someone else.]
no subject
Someone tried to sacrifice me. It ended poorly for them.
no subject
Camille's expression softens. By a fraction of a hair, but it does.
She supposes that's the risk you run for living amid fantastical derring do. A drastic increase in unusual peril.]
My condolences to the dumb bastard. [Idiot zealots.] I take it the plot was, uh, "thoroughly thwarted?"
no subject
we play fast and loose for the cr. ]
Well, I arrived covered in his blood so you tell me.
no subject
Camille's brows raise high.]
Duly noted. [Then, remembering what Rondo told her about who's all arrived in packs:] Karlach was also covered in blood. She jump in to help you out?
no subject
Not exactly.
But a lot of the time we end up covered in blood because things keep trying to kill us! Funny how that works out.
no subject
Sounds like you all lead a very exciting life. [And an alarming one.] If you're ever in the market for a memoir, look me up.
Why'd they want to sacrifice you? Wrong place wrong time, or...?
no subject
More colourful that average, I suppose. If I feel like documenting everything one day, maybe I will.
[ ... ]
It was about 200 years in the making, or so it turned out. But, yes. I suppose it did start with wrong place and wrong time.
no subject
[Awful long while to wait for a plot to bear fruit. Then again his age on the profile had stuck out like a sore thumb.]
Even more the pity.
no subject
no subject
[Making light of it helps shave off the edge of awkwardness. It's a violent confession, uncomfortable, but not intimate. Not in any way that she might discern.
He doesn't seem open to sweet words of comfort anyhow.]
I'd toast to your good health if I had a drink. You'll have to settle with plain well wishes instead.