Astarion Ancunin

[scrapdraught]

omg she's a reporter

it's Interview with a Vampire

Comments

[haematocritical]

[ the face he pulls. ]

No.

I was more curious about the book that seems to be missing from here as much as it's present.

[scrapdraught]

Oh, god, that thing?

[Camille approaches, trying to peer around him for signs of it.]

I only heard that it's more scribbles and spooky set dressing. Have you found anything? [A beat.] I'm Camille, by the way. You must be...Astarion?

[haematocritical]

Yes, that thing. You can certainly find some treasures lying around in abandoned churches, but there is always the chance it’ll curse your bloodline to the 17th generation.

[ hmmmmm. ]

And what gave that away?

[scrapdraught]

Process of elimination. [She folds her arms.] Of the remaining people I haven't met, you're not a teenager or a twenty something. And forgive the assumption, but you don't look like an "Ichiban."

[call it a hunch.]

And how many generations cursed do you figure we are?

[haematocritical]

...



I am remarkably glad I don't look like an 'Ichiban'. [ i love him tho. ]

Did you touch the book?

[scrapdraught]

Hell no. Even if I wanted to, it's always been gone when I cared to check.

[haematocritical]

If you’re willing to fight whatever nasty curse is attached to it, then you might get something out of it.

[ although it is funny to watch everyone else fight it ]

[scrapdraught]

I think I'll pass, thank you kindly. Though I'd like to have a word with whoever is taking it. See what they've gathered.

[okay that's enough plot for now.]

So. How's a guy like you get familiar with sordid stuff like curses?

[Unbeknownst to her, a script begins to gleam through the dark knit of her sweater.

A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.]

[haematocritical]

You might have to gather a lot of people, as I would-- well, I'd hope the same person isn't taking the book.

[ yes. run away from the plot. my bad habit is latching onto it. ]

It's not uncommon where I'm from. We stumbled across a tome of necromancy once.

[ his eyes flicker down slightly, before looking back up again. it's not the first time he's seen these tattoo like scripts and they just make him uneasy. not because he's bothered by looking at other people's secrets like this, but because he doesn't want people seeing his own. ]

[scrapdraught]

Wouldn't that be a laugh.

[Masochism or stupidity, both are likely with this crowd.]

Necromancy. That's to do with the dead, right? Someone raising them? Doing a seance?

[Her wry questioning comes to a halt. His expression's gone off. Camille cants her head, curious.]

What is it?

[haematocritical]

If they think there's something to gain from it with enough stubborness, perhaps.

[ both? both is good. ]

Raising the dead, controlling the dead... a very particular section of magic. I'm sure Gale would know more than I do, if you can weather the in depth discussion.

[ hmm. well. ]

Words on your skin.

[scrapdraught]

[Gale. Her fingers itch for a pen. Something better than her nails to scribble over her jeans.

At least when she writes on herself she gets to pick what goes there. Camille looks down and spies the looping script across her front.]

Fucking kidding me. [No question, just an expletive. It's not even the one she ran in here to hide.]

[Well. Nothing for it. She turns and drops into a pew, arms folded, feet up.]

Don't mind me, I'm riding this one out. Go about your business.

[haematocritical]

[ he adds, because I realise that makes him sound like a necromancer: ]

He’s a wizard. They love to talk your ear off about magic, whether you asked or not.

[ hmmm. ]

Oh, I’m very good at looking the other way if you are. [ the word Sacrifice has started to peek out through his clothing, so y’know. he’ll pretend he doesn’t see it if you do, camille. ]

[scrapdraught]

Oh, I know. My ears have fallen off and been reattached a few times already. Charmer, that one.

[In his own way. He's funny. Frivolous, especially for his age. She doesn't mind it.

Her eyes light on his own tattoo, fresh formed and oh-so-timely.]

I can. [She smiles, clucking her tongue.] Though yours is pretty on the nose, considering what we were brought here for.

[haematocritical]

Yes, they will tend to do that.

[ astarion and gale are so funny. fights them.


we love a good bit of mg timing. astarion just looks a little tired at the next part -- his expression shutters a little. ]

Yes. Well. These cultists have a sense of humour I'm not sure I like.

[scrapdraught]

[draws hearts around them.]

It's a bomb of a comedy show if I ever saw one.

[Though her curiousity is piqued. Never let it be said she wasn't open to a little hypocriticism.]

Is that from the Necromancy?

[haematocritical]

[ puts them in the dirt. ]

... Is what from necromancy?

[scrapdraught]

"Sacrifice."

[She raises a brow.]

You said you'd dealt with it in the past. Was sacrifice part of it?

[haematocritical]

[ his mouth twists. ]

No. Sacrifice was not part of it.

[scrapdraught]

Separate altercation then.

[Obviously. She thinks a minute.]

I've found they fade quicker if you talk about it. If you're game. We could trade queries, quick and painless.

[haematocritical]

What is this meant to be, the world’s shittiest ice breaker?

[ aaaaa. ]

[scrapdraught]

Probably.

[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.]

[haematocritical]

[ … the grumpiest silence. ]



Someone tried to sacrifice me. It ended poorly for them.

[scrapdraught]

[The way he didn't even try to change the 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?"

[haematocritical]

[ 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.