Astarion Ancunin

[scrapdraught]

omg she's a reporter

it's Interview with a Vampire

Comments

[haematocritical]

[ gazes.

well the knife thing earns him a bit of a whole body shudder - like a little ripple because, well. he knows how painful having something carved into your skin is, he's just never done it willingly.

but there's a lot going on there. nothing that he visibly reactions to, not in the way camille had upon seeing his memory. he doesn't feel nauseous, nor the need to collapse. but he does lean his weight back a little, tilting his head. ]

I know it doesn't take a lot for someone to snap, but that seemed rather-- [ intense? pointed? ]

Personal.

[scrapdraught]

[Tough crowd.

Astarion might come out of it with little more than private judgments, new considerations. Camille comes out stiff as a statue. Her jaw has clenched shut, her eyes are stuck on some distant point. Her arms have taken permanent post around her middle, as if she might obscure the jagged scars he's already seen. Her cheeks flush and her eyes are prickling. There is silence.

And then, low and utterly begrudging:]

Yeah? [A bitter inhale, and then more.] Family tends to be personal.

[haematocritical]

[ he hums under his breath. ]

I think my idea of family is somewhat warped. [ the man who turned you and the few unfortunate other favourites he also turned don't really count. ]

Is this what you were doing last week?

[scrapdraught]

That makes two of us.

[She could just go for the door. What's stopping her? This isn't a conversation that needs finishing. He doesn't need to see anything else, know any more. He's already got the grisly gist.

Except she doesn't want a repeat of Aqua. He wouldn't gun for her like she did, but he might alert someone who would. Panic and supervision are the last things she needs. She's not relapsing. She just made a stupid mistake.

Camille meets his eye evenly. Speaks low.]

It's over. I don't want to go back to it.

[If she were being serious she'd have grabbed a fucking knife.]

[haematocritical]

My dear, I think it would be fairly obvious that as much as you expect me to not talk about your issues, I fully expect you to not talk about mine.

[ he doesn't just mean right here, and now. ]

[scrapdraught]

[She does smile then. Bitter, but with a nod of the head. Cheers.]

Fine by me. I don't like having babysitters. Not even ones as charming as yourself.

[haematocritical]

I think I have a good enough understanding that you've got your secrets. I'm not exactly over the moon about having mine paraded all over the place anyway.

[ a silent, petty lil jerks coming to an agreement ]

[scrapdraught]

[Thank fucking god.]

Consider my lips sealed.

How are you getting around though? Daylight doesn't bother you here? No appetite?

[haematocritical]

Daylight hasn't bothered me for a while. Unique circumstances beyond this place, you see.

As for food, the regular fare has been sitting just fine with me. Even if it wasn't, I've already had offers if I'd needed to stick to my usual diet.

[scrapdraught]

That's the benefit of so many bleeding hearts around. Glad you still have the pleasure of eating cardboard like the rest of us.

[I miss the Ratpplebees....]

[haematocritical]

[ sprace was such a time. ]

Yes, a little ironic that the shift of things happens right when the food options are fucking dire.