therookery | CRYSTAL | MISS ME, DARLINGS?

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.]

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[Blandly:] Oh no. I complimented your smarts. How awful. I really don't think I could convince anyone that you're an idiot if I tried. [He meant that last part to be a snarky sarcastic remark, but, whatever he was going to say would have been a lie, so--]

Careful, kitten. Don't bite. We're friends. And I don't want to talk about how I'm special.

[Is a wince audible?]

You'd be surprised. [Equally bland, albeit not cattishly.] A few grating jokes here, a little discomfort there, and it's—

[Okay, no, he switches this to private because it's either that, or gnawing off his own tongue.]

It's easy for people to think you little more than a useless trickster. A joke.

And I prefer it that way.

[Hm.]

Anyway, why not? I can't imagine you're the same as I am in that respect; trying to mask specialness for the sake of survival. Normalcy.

[It could be that gnawing one's own tongue off could be preferable. Good of Astarion to start seeing that. Are we rethinking 'fun'? We may be rethinking 'fun'.]

I will never think of you as a joke. And I don't want to treat you like one. Do you want me to, in front of others? Because...if you ask me to, I'll try, but I can't promise to be any good at it, and I won't like it.

[And he leaves a heavy silence, between. Why not is an easier thing to answer truthfully than to simply say it, so long has he held his tongue, forty years holding his tongue, but for once it wants to drop from his mouth and writhe on the floor and he--]

You'd be surprised. [The ironic echo. Easier to say why not. Astarion is a friend. He does not want to lose friends.] You have a pretty good idea, or a healthy fear anyway, of what the Chantry and those most loyal to it would do to the heretics and blasphemers and cultists and people they just don't really like all that much.

No. Just— [It's a huff. A sort of catching snag, trapped between vanity and practicality....and a touch of his own paranoia, too.

Speaking of which, though:] If you're implying you're somehow anything of the sort in regards to all their enmity, then you and I would be sitting in the theoretical eye of the storm together.

You don't need to be squeamish.

I suppose if being a vampire doesn't chase me from you, me being spoken to by Andraste won't chase you off. I hope.

...Not metaphorically, or allegorically, or figuratively, or in prayer. I mean--

I was just a boy. I don't remember anything that came before her presence graced me. She spoke to me, and when I woke up, it was like being born anew.

Spoken to—

[Well now. That's....unexpected to say the least. And given the circumstances, he knows Mobius isn't lying. That he likely can't. Hells, he probably wouldn't regardless, given the way he goes rigid whenever it comes to the Chantry and all its myriad extentions.]

I'd expected....I don't know. Maybe a little murder somewhere in the inner circle, or some heretical theory that she's the Maker instead, or that you'd been consorting with demons to unearth the memories of ancient spirits.

....although I suppose there's still time for that, too.

How old were you, exactly?

[A beat:]

And when you say you can't remember anything before that moment....

You expected murder and demon-consorting out of me?

I mean, yes, the latter would definitely have gotten me beheaded in an instant; I guess I made that sound...dire. The Chantry doesn't put to death everyone who thinks they've seen visions from the Maker so long as they don't run off to start a cult and declare themselves a new prophet, but...like I said, you've got an idea. I learned to keep my mouth shut early on about stuff that is decidedly not a universal experience.

I was twelve. And I don't remember anything before. Anything I know about my life before then I was told by people who were friends and family once upon a time.

[He lets that sit for a moment. Maybe it doesn't sound so bad, or doesn't sound as bad as he'd made it seem? Still not something you just start telling people in casual conversation (around the devout who are training to be Templars and to the Sisters who are their trusted teachers).]

I've read that theory, too. It's not actually one of the wilder ones. Not a popular one, but it's not bad.

Nothing reasonable is popular in Thedas— [Stop it, enchantment. Not now.]

So you— [He has to almost bite his tongue for a moment, which, given his fangs, wouldn't be fun by any measure; this is the worst way to have this conversation, if only because Astarion knows just how much his cynicism might lead somewhere utterly terrible if he isn't careful.

And he'd rather not lose Mobius, as far as those close to him goes.] dreamed about her visiting you, and when you woke, nothing. Nothing at all.

....what did she say?

['Once upon a time.' doesn't slip his notice. He'll circle back to the hint of loss tucked away within its span, given that for someone like him, he can practically sense misery like electricity in the air, alluring and sharp. Just—

One thing at a time. One foot before the other.]

You can be as mocking and derisive as you want. I know how it sounds. Which is why I don't tell people. It's entirely possible it was a dream, but I don't think it was.

I mean, I remembered skills. Could still read. Had sort of a vague recollection of geography, as much as a kid could at that time. But I didn't remember what happened before, the people around me, my name, my birthday.

[He takes an audible breath, mulls over how to answer the question actually asked.]

I say she spoke to me, and I'm sure that she did, with words even, but there was also sensation and...imparting things without necessarily having to hear the words. Does that make sense? But what she said-- [And he hesitates. He can be honest without having to necessarily answer everything in full.] The overall gist of it was to help people in the Maker's name. [Vague, non-specific, but not a lie. Mobius is good at that. He can still work with or around this infection.] The specifics are between me and the big lady, I think.

[Wryly:] You could say she told me to get a job.

CRYSTAL | MISS ME, DARLINGS?

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