helluvamess | [tlv] character inbox

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"If you're hearing this then I can't be fucked answering right now or some other shit-covered fuckwich is going down on this boat so I'll get back to you when the fuck I can!"

---

[The door to Blitzø's cabin looks like a typical shitty apartment door. Inside is pretty much exactly a shitty apartment. The door marked "Loona's room" does not open when tried and it appears that Blitzø himself sleeps on the couch. The walls are covered with images and drawings of horses, however every picture of Blitzø has his face scribbled over.]

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"Maybe. But I don't love you thinking so poorly of a friend of mine," Astarion sighs.

"I didn't mean I hate Florian," Blitzø retorts. "And I don't think poorly of him either! O-or Stolas."

Astarion smiles.

"And I'm not talking about either of them. I'm talking about you."

"Me?" He doesn't quite get what the vampire means and gives him a confused look, which is at least an improvement from the tension and defensiveness.

"First of all, I talk shit about myself all the time. I know I'm a shitty shitbag. Second, the fuck do you mean?"

Astarion leans out to catch Blitzø's wrist gently.

"I don't think you're a shitbag. I would bet my right arm that Stolas doesn't think you're a shitbag. Please don't criticise our good taste in company, mm?" he says, with exaggerated grandiosity.

Blitzø sighs and droops, giving in and climbing up onto the bed to scratch Aylin's ears.

"I don't know if I'd be too sure about Stolas. I mean, fine, maybe he doesn't hate me but I'm pretty sure I'm just... nothing to him anyway. Imps are just like furniture to higher level demons. They just do what they like and dismiss us when it's over."

Aylin miaows and nuzzles up against him, settling down and starting to purr like an engine.

"Have you ever asked him?" Astarion wonders, levelly.

Blitzø has never had a cat before, and the ones in Hell aren't the same as Aylin anyway, but as she starts purring he finds himself relaxing more in turn. It makes it hard to keep being angry as he speaks with Astarion.

"Ask him what? 'Hey Stolas, you know how you treat your staff? Well am I the same as that or am I special?'" He flutters his eyes at Astarion before rolling them. "Fuck that."

"Darling, please, you don't have to put yourself in that kind of corner. All I'm saying is that if you want to know what he thinks of you, there's an easy way to find out."

But his tone is soft and undemanding. He knows there's a real safety in just...not knowing.

"...should I find out?" he asks after a moment. "I mean, what if I do and it's shit? Or worse, it's not shit? Then what?"

"Well, first of all, let's not limit ourselves," Astarion drawls. "There's three options here. First, it's shit. Second, it's not shit. Third, you get an ambiguous answer which just leaves you with more questions because he's at least as emotionally illiterate as you are."

"Yeah, none of that sounds like a great time so why would I want to find out which one it is? First one, he thinks I'm just a plaything and it's just sex and then what? I keep doing it? Second... it's not that and then he realises that I'm a shitty fucker who can't hold a relationship ever and has ruined everything good that comes his way and who'd want that?"

He rolls on his back, his horns digging into the bed as he gestures up at the ceiling. "And the last one is basically where we are already so what's the point?"

"If I were in your position, I would want to have more information," Astarion says. "That's all."

He reaches across to brush his fingertips along Blitzø's arm.

"I'll drop it, darling. It's your life."

Blitzø grumbles and, at the touch, curls in against Astarion's side not unlike a much larger version of the kitten also cuddling up to the vampire.

"...have you ever been in this position?"

"No," he admits. "I've tried to start a strictly transactional relationship, and...then got rejected before it could go awry."

Which sounds like it was probably a mercy, all things considered.

He lifts his head, looking up at Astarion's face in confusion. "Fucking why? They decided they can't handle too much of a good thing or some shit?"

"Maybe I wasn't their type," Astarion says, shrugging one shoulder. "And we were travelling with a number of beautiful people, all of whom...admittedly...hadn't tried to bite them in their sleep a few nights previously."

"What were they, blind? Numb from the waist down?" He grins, waggling his eyebrows at Astarion because this is a lot easier than earlier conversations had been. Safe and easy flirting instead of all that feelings shit.

"Or boring as shit, cause who doesn't want some biting?"

"All of the above?" Astarion offers. "I didn't let it bother me. They could have ordered me to leave the camp. They could have reached for the nearest stake to drive through my heart. That they did neither was so exceptionally generous that I forgot to feel rejected."

If anything, he'd felt - relieved? But vulnerable, as well, in a way he hadn't liked. As if one of his most useful resources had completely failed him.

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