CRYSTAL | MISS ME, DARLINGS?

[illithidnapped]

FORM: sending crystals, during the truth event, you know what to do
SENDER: your favorite rogue, Astarion xoxo
RECIPIENT: as always, everyone
NOTES: if you drank Truth Soup, cough up your feelings; if you didn't drink the soup, make it worse for everyone, I dare you

[Someone's bored tonight. And it's been over a year since the last time he felt restlessness stirring him into needling action— particularly when he's noticed a couple of blurted-out confessions running high and harsh in the air. He could sleuth around. Sniff about for any signs of volatile tampering (or ask if this is just the next phase of whatever sleepless affliction's still nipping at everyone's collective heels)....

But this is so much more fun.

Anyway— ahem, and all that:]

Name one thing you like about someone else in Riftwatch. Anything. Anything at all.

Bonus points if you feel like getting weird with it.

[And don't think he's generous enough to actually start this game himself: that, you're all going to have to do on your own.

Or maybe just ask nicely.]

Comments

[propulsion]

I mean, that was true for a minute, so I don't exactly blame you. But I'm super dead in the world I came from, so this is kind of it for me. And that's honestly—fine. Most people who die are just dead, you know? And this stupid nonsense universe is home, so I get to show up for it.

[ Some irl stretches occur here. ]

You know, something about all this sincerity is wrecking havoc on my neck muscles. My trapezius is, like, rock hard.

[bouchonne]

Disgusting, Stark. I don't need to hear about that.

[ Is he joking? Hard to tell.

But - ]

Is that all it's about? You being forced into this dreadful place, reluctantly fighting for it just because you have no other choice?

[propulsion]

Trust me, bare minimum effort wouldn't put me in a room with you three clowns.

[ —he says with, you know, affection. ]

I'm just saying we share some stakes.

[bouchonne]

[ He grunts in acknowledgment. Then, bluntly - ]

I absolutely loathe it when you Rifters talk about my home like that. Stupid nonsense universe. It frankly makes me want to not help any of you, or work with you. And I know I'm not alone in that.

[propulsion]

Damn, that was a glorious two seconds of being not like the other girls.

[ But, with equal bluntness, ]

We're scared. That's why. Scared and homesick. There's so much here that doesn't make sense to me on a real and fundamental level. Like. There's music I'll never hear again, food I'll never eat again, materials and experiences that are simply not replicable, and that's before you even get to friends and family. My daughter's name is Morgan, my wife's name is Pepper, and,

yeah, Thedas is my home now. Despite all that. I get it, we have to prove that that's true, that we care, whatever, but you could cut us a little slack for being smartasses. Maker knows you expect the same treatment.

[bouchonne]

I'm scared. And homesick. Do you think I like Kirkwall?

[ But The Who-Has-It-Worse competition is never productive. And Byerly can go home, in time. So: ]

It goes far beyond simply being smartasses. Half of your conversations focus on how backwards, ignorant, and foul-smelling we all are. How provincial our towns are, how benighted our people, how barbaric our practices. This is my home, Stark; I have bled for it, I will continue to bleed for it; my friends have died for it and will continue to die for it. So yeah, when you can't stop talking about how disgusting we all are, I want to punch you in the fucking mouth.

[propulsion]

Aw come on, it goes exactly as far as being smartasses, okay. And nobody likes Kirkwall, but it's not physically impossible for you to go home if you want. I mean, we don't have cars or planes here, unlike my super awesome non-barbaric universe, so you'd have to ride a horse or something like a total jackass—

[ wheeze ]

Sorry. Don't punch me. And it's not like you don't fall back behind the 'you Rifters' rhetoric. How's that meant to feel? Welcoming?

[bouchonne]

Only when I'm pissed off at you. Which I usually am, because you're constantly shitting on everything I hold dear. You've heard the way that woman Sylvie talks, haven't you? And even the Rifters I like do it every now and again.

[propulsion]

Mm-hm. Who are all the Rifters you like?

[bouchonne]

Wh -

[ Ugh! Irritably: ]

You, Astarion, Ellie, Abby, Thranduil, Cosima, Glimmer, Wysteria. A few of the others, I simply don't know.

[propulsion]

[ A chuckle. ]

This truth stuff isn't so bad. Maybe we should just go hogwild on it once a month, what with therapy not being invented yet.

[bouchonne]

[ ugh. ]

It's horrible. If you think it's not bad - I don't know what to say to you.

[propulsion]

I mean it's not the worst. But also I'm an open book. [ Well— ] In that I say kind of whatever springs to mind, anyway, especially if it's funny, but less about real stuff that makes me vulnerable.

[ A slap of his hand against the side of his desk. ]

Anyway. Sorry you're having a bad time! Have less secrets maybe, or do less things you wouldn't share with the rest of the class.

[bouchonne]

[ Irritably: ]

Tell me something real that makes you vulnerable.

[propulsion]

[ —strangled sound of some other aborted comment getting swallowed. ]

In my former career as a weapons developer and salesman I facilitated terrorist activities through my own negligence, because we profited off the war machine and I didn't care to look any closer. Future attempts to rebalance the scale led to a bigger body count because hubris. I don't know if I ever get to make up for that. So your comment about getting us all killed hit a nerve.

[ Big breath out. ]

Not cool. For the record I've had a lot of character development since then, okay, so. And. My facial hair is better than yours.

[bouchonne]

Is the spell wearing off?

[ cause that's a fuckin lie.

Anyway - ]

I fear, good sir, that of all the sins a fellow could commit, that one does not seem - hm - that shocking.

[propulsion]

Well, as the guy who sinned, it was a pretty rowdy wake up call.

[bouchonne]

Such virtue.

[propulsion]

Okay, well, now you're in mustache-twirling judgy mode, so clearly you didn't exactly love it, shocking [ in a Fereldan accent ] or not.

[bouchonne]

I'm not judging you. This is just how I talk. [ Soup won't let him stop there: ] ...When I want someone to say more on a topic, so I try to make them uncomfortable.

[propulsion]

See, Byerly, this is that likeability thing I was talking about. You're gonna neg me about my war profiteering?

[bouchonne]

Surely you know by now that I'm not motivated by likability.

[elegiaque]

( Gwenaëlle Didn't Like That. )

[bouchonne]

[ sorry gwen your ex is really endearing ]

[elegiaque]