scrapdraught | Astarion Ancunin

[ girlfriends. nods. ]

Oh darling, I've heard worse.

You're a bit of a mess, aren't you?

[I'm not linking every time i will let you know when she flips.

Anyway the girl makes such a stink face.]

Don't call me "Darling", you fucking perv.

[Then she rolls her eyes and flips her hair, studying her nails.]

What mess?

Oh you really will have to do better.

[ he has truly been called worse. he waves a hand though. ]

All of this.

[She sighs.]

...I didn't mean to make a mess. [A beat. Not looking at him. Voice bleeding to something familiar.] I can be nice.

[ ah. he’s reminded of something karlach said a couple of weeks ago, when her voice bleeds back into the more familiar. ]

When you want to be, yes. [ it’s not actually biting, just observational. ] I can hardly go around telling people off for not being nice.

I don’t think any of you mean to make a mess. It keeps happening though.

[The girl — Amma, whose stash of little girl's teeth he'd watched Camille dig up just this week — watches him sullenly a moment longer.

Then the vision warps.

Camille Preaker stands behind the barrier and she looks like hell. Tears, pale-cheeks and rough-ragged hair. There's scratches at her neck. Fingernails, too blunt to do any good. Lend any relief.]

...I didn't want to be like my family.

[ he doesn't seem bothered by the shape shifting, but his eyes look the tiniest bit less tense when she turns into Camille again.

he's not very good at being supportive to people, or telling them what they want to hear at their lowest. he's just not really built that way. but he does tap the barrier curiously, seeing if it's doing that thing where it solidifies if he comes close to it. ]

I wouldn't say getting possessed by a monster makes you like your family.

Killing does.

[She watches him tap. Reflexively, her fingers splay to join in. Press around his, unable to connect. Solid as brick.]

My sister's a killer. My mother's a killer. [A beat. She needs the time to choke. The words come out thick.] It was her medicine, you know. I used it on him. At curfew. Put it one of the drinks and whoever picked it up...well.

[She laughs. It's ragged, wretched. It ends with her clutching her own face.]

I never did tell you what those words meant, did I?

[The first week here, in the church. A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.]

[ it’s strange how it’s so … fluid one moment, shifting like fog, but immediately knows when someone tries to breach it. he taps the surface again, and it solidifies like stone between his hand and hers. ]

No, you didn’t.

[ “a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.”

come to think of it, a bottle of medicine had been her item from home, listed on that profile, hadn’t it? ]

[Camille grimaces.]

Well, there you have it. [It's too hard to keep looking at him. She shudders, breath rasping, abandoning the touch through the barrier to clutch at her arm.] I followed in the family footsteps, and now I'm just waiting.

...They didn't vote for me, though.

It doesn't sound like your family had monster possession to worry about. [ that is... quite literally a huge sign she was probably not like her family. ]

I don't have quite the same outright negative view on death I think of lot of people have, but I would argue wanting so badly not to be like someone or something makes you a cut above them in the first place.

[ ... ]

No, they didn't. I'm not sure what that means for you.

Astarion Ancunin

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Spoilers

puts them in my mouth

SPIT THAT OUT /gale voice

GROWLS AND SHAKES IT AROUND