CRYSTAL | THIS IS CRIMINAL

[illithidnapped]

FORM: sending crystals, sometime around week four, during the dragon tracking assignment's first foray into fortress scans
SENDER: Astarion
RECIPIENT: every last one of you, as usual
NOTES: Corypheus is his own content warning

Gods. It's a travesty. A nightmare. Unthinkable.

[He sounds almost shaken. Thoroughly run through by something leaving freshly witnessed tracks through his mind. Harrowing. World-shattering. The horrors of warfare come to a head, or perhaps some new tragedy played out before him, wherever he is now.

His voice is noticeably pained, he soldiers on:]

Villainy I can understand. Inhumane cruelty— fine. Yes. But do you want to know the worst part about all of this?

I thought for certain Corypheus would at least have the decency to be handsome— but no.

[No flowing hair framing unspeakably beautiful features, all gracefully arcing downwards into gleaming armor or finely stitched robes. Not even a half-measure between an enticing magesterial figurehead and some average, mealy-faced man possessed of charisma. No. No!!] The misshapen creature looks about as beguiling as a troll’s festering tit: no glamor, no allure, no illusions, for hells' sake.

It’s an utter wonder anyone follows him at all. I can't make sense of it.

Comments

[cozen]

I have heard he is very tall.

[illithidnapped]

So is a tree. You don’t see me crawling up its branches to swear my undying devotion.

[cozen]

Well, no…

[ There are times he would hesitate to be so publicly irreverent. Those are generally the times when he has not recently had to outrun a dragon. ]

But if you had to pick a tree, it would be a tall one, non?

[illithidnapped]

[Embrace it, Bastien!!

Caution is for the weak, let Corypheus weep under the weight of these truths.]

Non, my beautiful compatriot.

If I had to pick a tree for the purpose of this desultory hypothetical, it’d be the one that’s full of life. It’d be a tree with strong, elegantly-structured boughs, with golden leaves and healthy roots strong enough to support my very svelte and appropriate weight.

It wouldn’t— to put it bluntly— be some rotted, towering husk soaked in dog piss.

[There's a beat where he scoffs, tone sharp with indignation:]

Which is all irrelevant anyway! Let him stretch himself out to the bloody stars if he cares to, it doesn’t do a thing for the embarrassment that is his face. His decayed totality, utterly exposed. Criminal.

I mean— have you seen it? At all?

[cozen]

No, no. I am a diplomat! If I ever see his face, it will be because something has gone terribly wrong.

[illithidnapped]

Well. One never knows just how these things will go.

Best start preparing yourself now.

[Ah—]

Unless... height is the only requirement to get your horses running, so to speak.

In which case, you’ll be fine.

[cozen]

[ He laughs. ]

Hardly. Though if he has a good sense of humor... He could be very funny in private. We don't know. In that case I might be in some trouble.

[illithidnapped]

[Astarion makes a puff of a sound in contrast, too bitter to be a proper laugh, but the humor's there all the same.]

I know the sort.

Believe me. Their humor's never as entertaining as you might hope.

[cozen]

People who are funny in private? Or ancient evil aspiring gods who are funny in private?

[illithidnapped]

The latter, darling.

Though I suppose the former's just as insufferable if they favor the concept of improvisational comedy.

[cozen]

Ha.

[ There’s no need to literally lean closer, with the crystals, but his voice takes on the rapt hush of someone who’s very interested in a story. ]

And who was your other privately funny villain, mon oison? They must have been better-looking.

[illithidnapped]

Better looking, yes.

But that is, of course, the danger of it. The trap that springs before you notice.

[And that's all you're getting for free, Bastien, no matter how nice you are to listen to.]

You know, much as I don't understand it— or even approve of it— I suppose we should all be grateful Corypheus is so nauseating to look at: none of us would stand a chance if he was handsome enough to sway hearts and minds.

[cozen]

[ But but but.

Fine. ]

Maybe that is why all of our Division Heads are so attractive. The secret hiring criteria.

[illithidnapped]

Oh, you think so? All of them?

Really?

[cozen]

You don’t?

[illithidnapped]

Well— three out of four isn't such a terrible ratio, I don't think. Commendable even.

[But which three? Or maybe more importantly: which unfortunate one?]

[cozen]

Step carefully, monsieur. I might be involved with one of them.

[ The sort of might be that clearly means am.

An afterthought: ]

And they can hear you.

[ Two of them, anyway. The other two might be dead. But past tenses and qualifications are for quitters. ]

[illithidnapped]

[Step carefully? Astarion? Do you know him at all, sir? Never mind— don't answer that.]

Maybe I want to be overheard.

[He purrs, practically curling his tongue like a cat licking up cream.]

Besides, it'll make it all the more fun when I sniff out which one you're deeply in love with, no doubt.

[cozen]

[ Bastien laughs. ]

You can try.

[ And succeed. It's not terribly subtle, especially lately. But Bastien will at least make a cursory effort not to explicitly announce it in Astarion's earshot.

Anyway— ]

You might be onto something, though. In all sincerity. Some woodcuts that highlight how terrible he looks, and [ important! ] make him less tall...

[illithidnapped]

Well, you're not weeping bitter tears at the moment, and you didn't use past tense, so that does narrow the scope.

[But yes, fine. All right, in the spirit of camaraderie, he'll stop gnawing and play nice for once.

Well. Niceish. This is very hard for him.]

Mm. A new committee, perhaps? A formal campaign to...belittle the man, so to speak? Why, we could even round up the local orphans to scribble out his likeness for distribution.

It'd be indistinguishable, no doubt.

[cozen]

[ A for effort. ]

Oui. Perfect. When things have calmed down [ he's not always an optimist but he does always do a good impression ] we can sit Monsieur Silver down and make a proposal.

[illithidnapped]

Then it's a date.

Or whatever the entirely innocuous version of a date would be.

[No. Yes. Wait. Give him a moment.]

—probably still just a date.