likemybooks | OPEN RP + OVERFLOW

[There's a small silence after Astarion speaks. Vox Machina shared their histories in quiet moments when they trusted Taryon, and conversely, he only shared the details of his father's treatment when he was at his lowest. He has heard that vampire thralls are typically converted unwillingly, and seeing that Astarion was happily free of his master means that he wasn't turned as part of a plot for power. The details weren't worth asking when they barely knew each other.

His hand pets lower, and he senses some of the ridges on Astarion's back. Though he doesn't understand Infernal, he can recognize the alphabet, especially after their research on the Nine Hells. This is also something that he doesn't know much about.]

Alright. [He angles his head against the sofa arm to look at Astarion directly. His neck will complain afterward, but this is something he must pay attention to.] I'll listen.

[He knows his touch to his back isn't done purposefully, but it makes him shudder a bit, suck in a little breath. He attempts to lift his head to look him in the face, but it's suddenly, exceedingly hard. From Taryon's view, me may only see his brows, and the flickering of his eyelashes, as Astarion stares at the fireplace across the room, and beyond it.]

I told you before I was turned I was a magistrate in Baldur's Gate. One late night, I was returning home from a tavern and jumped by a group of men. At the time I thought it was just because they were brutish, wicked people, mad I had passed a punishment down on one of their people, but I have since learned that is not true, and that perhaps it was planned by Cazador.

[Sighs.]

Whatever the reason, I was attacked and left for dead. Until Cazador came for me. He offered to save me, whispered so many promises, but all I needed to hear was I would not die, not that night in the gutters, not at 39. [Such a stupidly young age to die for a high elf.] So, he bit me.

I soon came to wish I had died then.

[At some point his hand had gripped Taryon's shirt tightly, his knuckles whiter than the rest of his pallor.]

Edited 2024-08-22 04:31 (UTC)

[It can be difficult to see this sensuous man as a former goverment employee, but that's what centuries as a different creature does to a person. Taryon is quiet while Astarion talks, now hearing the start of his undead life for the first time. His heart beats faster at learning how he died, but Taryon wishes he could calm himself - he knows that becoming a vampire spawn is not a pleasant process, whether by slow transformation while the victim is alive or by dying first.

There's much he doesn't know of his time as a magistrate. Why he was attacked, what sort of policies he enacted that could have gotten someone to attack him, for what reason Cazador would have targeted him...]

You're young. [Does it make him mentally younger that Taryon? The more mature one? Taryon has more experience with drow and gnomes, not the high elves that live on the western parts of the continent of Wildemount.] And he took you away, just like that?

[He imagines a dying Astarion, far from help, begging for his life, and then Cazador walking up for an easy thrall. Then, a mystery. It was cruel, so cruel that Astarion bore scars on his back as a testament to his agony, but Astarion never divulges anything about those years.]

I was young.

[He was far from being called an "adult" in elven culture, that would have happened when he turned 100, but it was purely a societal boundary. Mentally he was on par with a human, especially considering he was raised in Baldur's Gate and attended schools with mixed races, though they did tend to be mostly humans, elves and dwarves.]

And no, not just like that. He had me act as if I were dead, his first command, had people find me, bury me. Then, the command to find my way out came. I was scared. I was filled with a hunger I had never felt before that only frightened me further, while also making me feel like a trapped animal. [His voice is strained now, a mix of anger and the resonating fear from that time.] I had to break out of my coffin, claw through 6 feet of dirt, and when I finally found the surface, there he was, waiting. Smiling.

[He forces a deep breath, trying to regroup. He's not sure how much detail he can go into this moment forward, he already feels the sting of tears, the warm trail of them down his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose, wetting Taryon's shirt.]

That was how it started, and it only became worse. He eventually turned others into his spawn, but he took special interest in my torment. Said I sang the sweetest as he flayed me, whipped me--anything his depraved mind came up with for me. Then . . . there was everything else, too.

[He trails off, wondering if he could continue. Instead, he says in a rough voice:]

It lasted over 200 years.

Edited 2024-08-23 19:08 (UTC)

[Taryon's hands still on Astarion's back. 200 years is impossible to imagine. Multiple childhoods' worth of being trapped with a man who reveled in his cruelty, each day blending into each other. Taryon had over 20 years of tip-toeing around his father's temper and accepting that he was not allowed to take charge of his own life. Could he go through that 10 more times?]

How did you even last that long?

[He doesn't want to comment on the description of his cries of pain being sweetest. The reasons Taryon can find that could possible make sense fill him with disgust, and to let those images play in his mine - to think someone could see his beloved Astarion in such a way - makes him sick.]

I don't know. [He guffaws shortly, a bitter tragic one.] Other than he commanded us not to kill ourselves--kill each other. He wanted us alive and suffering.

I had given up within the first decade after--after . . . [Ugliness twists in his chest, it makes him dizzy, more tears coming to his eyes.] He did a repeat of the grave. But for a full year. I just couldn't after that. Fight back, I mean. He was able to do whatever he wanted to me, feed me rotten rats and roaches, force me to go out and seduce--hunt--prey, people like--like you-- [He grips his shirt again, eyes screwing shut as merely imagining Taryon being one of the people lured back to Cazador's claws brings him imaginable pain.] --and bring them back to the palace, fuck them, then he would take them away.

[He tightens his hug. The scars...those scars, meant to make Astarion suffer over and over again until they were so deep they would never heal. These scars that Taryon can see whenever Astarion turns around during their nights together. What does he think of these scars?

If Cazador was alive, Taryon would put his body between him and Astarion. On the other hand, it would upset Astarion if he was just another victim another...]

Like me? What do you mean? [Not...handsome, he means? Young?] Was that? I mean- you mean...you had to do that to all of them?

[The fucking part. It doesn't sound correct to say out loud. Astarion's experience was not his own choice, but it has not fully sunken into Taryon's mind. That's impossible. No one could do that to everyone they lured in for their master.]

[The hug was much needed. It helps bring Astarion back more into the present, where Cazador is dead, and he's with someone who he knows he's safe with. Someone that even if he had done wrong to, or to his robot best friend in today's case, he wouldn't hurt him, seek vengeance.

He hears the mix of emotions in Taryon's voice, the anger for Astarion, the confusion, the sympathy. He shifts, face turning up just a bit more, still not able to look into his eyes but he can see some of his hair or beard depending on how he moved.]

Fuck everyone I brought him? Yes, I had to do that with all of them. As did all the other spawn with their prey.

[His voice grows more quiet, as he adds:]

And, yes, like you. A beautiful person, naive, sweet . . . easy to lure into a beautiful room in a beautiful palace. I tried not to, I would try to hunt for the ugly ones, inside and out, but--but he knew what I was doing and often made specific "requests" from me that I had to obey.

[Beat.]

Sometimes unbidden thoughts come to me, when you're not with me, or you're fast asleep next to me. What if I had met you then and not now? And it hurts, in ways I hadn't felt hurt before.

[Hearing it said like that — it's explicitly sex, who knows how many times — has it begin to sink in. Is this how he layed with his prey, in a gentle embrace? Did he press into everyone the same way he presses into Taryon when his breathing becomes pronounced and needy? Did he swallow men hundreds of times, did they find the same joy? Did Astarion treat women the same way?

Is he not bored of it?

Is Taryon just another body to please once they abandon their romantic activities? He's just like the others he sacrificed, like Astarion said. Beautiful, sweet, perfect boyfriend material
...] Naive? [He raises his head.] So back when we first met, if you were still working for that guy...

[Would he have let Taryon go? Would he have been lead away and killed? The only consolation is has is that Vox Machina might get suspicious if they left the building.]

But why? Why like that? I mean — not that you should pursue anyone you're not attracted to, but why would he be so specific if he'll die without anyone?

[Taryon is delving too much into the motives of an abuser: they just want to he in power for its own sake. It's the same with his father, though the less thought he puts into it, the saner he feels and the more quickly he heals.]

Edited 2024-09-02 14:00 (UTC)

[Everything is different now. He is able to pursue genuine emotions, genuine expressions of love, or lack thereof if all he wanted was a quick lay. It doesn't mean he's good at it, he still hits stumbling blocks in his efforts to court Taryon, still has to remind himself he's falling into old habits he doesn't want to keep doing, but he's not bored of it. Having met Taryon, he's experienced new, exciting and lovely feelings and experiences that are like a soothing balm over his scars.

He knew telling him all this could have the potential to lead Taryon to leave him, hate him, and he is scared, but he wouldn't regret telling him this.]

If I were still enslaved by him, yes, I would have brought you back and you would have been his in the end. I would have wanted to let you go, but after the crypt . . .

[He tries not to hate himself for that, for giving up, and some days he doesn't, and some he does. It wasn't fair to him, expecting him to be strong after everything he had been through in those first 10 years, and then the 190 years after. But it wasn't fair to his victims either.

He close his eyes, hard, he feels so small against Taryon's chest, drained of all energy.]

He had his reasons, but . . . that's so much more to tell. I don't think I'm ready.

[The crypt. The time he was locked underground for an entire year. The torture of isolation and starvation that would drive any man mad. For what? Trying to defy one of his orders? Was it even an important order?

Or was it because...] Did you let someone escape? [He speaks of letting Taryon go, but if that was his punishment...ah. So he offers someone to be killed or undergo torture. Taryon hopes the person that got away with his life knows what agony Astarion went through.

He pats the back of Astarion's head. Trapped in Cazador's clutches for 200 years must lead to horrific stories. The lashings might have turned into something worse. The sexual acts he was ordered to perform could have become sickening. Taryon has done many things he regretted the next morning, but it can't compare to Astarion's unlife. There are too many memories to unlock.]

It's alright. You already told me a lot. [The decision not to sleep together tonight has become a wise move, in retrospect.]

I tried to let someone escape. His name was Sebastian.

[He pauses, thinking of that man brings a bittersweet feeling, but he at least knows he's trying to make a life for himself in the Underdark now, but it still aches.]

You remind me a lot of him, in ways. I tried to see him out, like you would after a night with someone. I didn't want him to be panicked, just . . . walk him to the door, let him go, but of course that was an impossibility. He was taken away, and I was sealed into a crypt. [Another pause, now thinking of the unimaginable pain Sebastian and all the others had to endure in their small cells under the palace. Astarion at least was let out of the tomb after a year.] I'll tell you how some other time, but he's a spawn as well, now living in the Underdark. The ending isn't as tragic as it could have been, for any of us.

[Though that depends on a person's point of view on the matter.

He's grateful for Taryon not pushing to hear more, and his hand patting his head is welcomed. He doesn't feel as panicked now, but he still worries if this information made him disgusted. He may be touching him kindly right now, but that doesn't mean he may not want to end their burgeoning relationship.]

If . . . if you want to not see me again, I would understand.

Edited 2024-09-07 23:16 (UTC)

Sebastian. [A name belonging to a man that Taryon (for a moment) thought was simply dead instead of facing an eternity of the same slavery that chained Astarion. An important name, if he is the cause of a year of suffering. If Taryon is like that man. In a good way? Someone that Astarion would want to rescue from a terrible fate?

Would Astarion have been his prince, years ago, when Taryon was still set to inherit the Darrington wealth?

Would he have tried to defend him from his father, or would he have made him another victim for Cazador?

Would he have fallen for the shitty college-age man he was?]

I...what? I suppose that's better than being dead, but if coming back to life was terrible for you, I imagine...

[He bites his tongue. What's done is done. If Sebastian was killed and turned and buried like Astarion, then there is nothing to be done.]

I hope he's alright. [He moves his arms to rest on Astarion's shoulder blades.] I'm glad you're alright. But why wouldn't I want to see you again? You tried to save him? [That must be it - not about the fact that Taryon could have been lured away if circumstances had been different.]

[Astarion actually doesn't know what Cazador did to him when he made him a spawn. Had he buried like he was? Probably not, that seemed to be something he had reserved for him and his "siblings", biting, burying then waiting for 7,000 people to resurface seems untenable even for a true sadist like Cazador.

But that wasn't really important to detail.

The arms encircling him was good, encouraging, made him feel safe again. He shifts, moving up his body, to rest his head on his shoulder, forehead to his chin.]

Because he was the first and last person I tried to save. I doomed hundreds after him.

[He sighs, and his hand slips up to curl around Taryon's neck, fingertips getting lost in the strands of his long hair.]

But if you can accept this past of mine, as unforgivable as it is, I'm not going to try to push you away. I'd be a fool.

But you tried. Once. [Hm. That doesn't sound as encouraging as it did in his head.] ...Unless he did the same things to him as he did to you--

[Alright, this is not going as well as planned. Astarion seems to be lost in though as he plays with Taryon's hair, and this is a level of discomfort Taryon rarely had to handle. Vox Machina had (most) of their shit together, and they had to band together to work through Taryon's internalized issues. They didn't shame him. They didn't blame him for his father's hatred.

It feels only fair to extend that same kindness to Astarion when he needs it.] If you were trying to survive, then I can't really blame you. But now that you're free, you're a hero. You can't be a bad person, deep down. [But there's another thing that concerns him. Taryon rests a hand on the back of Astarion's head.] Is- um. Are you okay, with...sleeping together?

[Taryon Darrington: master of tact.]

[It's a small comfort, hearing him say that. It's not as impressive to hear it was only the once, but the way Taryon says it, like it was important, lifts a little of the dark weight he has put on himself this conversation.

The word "hero" inspires mixed emotions in him. He feels proud for what he did to save Baldur's Gate, but sometimes it feels like a falsehood. Taryon saying it, however, feels rather nice.]

I'm trying. I don't want to be the man that I was.

[The following question surprises him, however. He hadn't even considered it. He is as stunned by the mere idea he could have that choice as he is by the fact Taryon was being so conscientious that he broached it in the first place, as lacking in tact as it was.

He sits up, kneeling between the man's legs and looks down at him, somewhat agog, but then his expression turns nervous.]

But wouldn't that ruin the-- [He stops himself from saying "relationship", they hadn't quite discussed such a thing, even though they spent so much of their free time together, even though Astarion had almost broken down over the thought of losing Taryon just earlier that day.] --ruin this? [He opts for gesturing between the two of them.

He knows Taryon doesn't expect sex every time they're together, it is part of why he likes being with him, but if all sex was cut off? Surely that would be the nail in the coffin.]

But you...[He thinks back to earlier today, how easily Astarion offered his body up to make up for harming Doty. He thinks of his life as Cazador's slave, forced to perform sexually with people he found beautiful and people he found repugnant. Did he only suggest sex because he didn't know what else to do? Did he enjoy their previous times? Well, sure, he seemed happy, but what if he was hiding it? What if he's better than Tary at keeping his disgust a secret?

There's nothing wrong with the sex Taryon had. It's some of the best he had! Not that he has a lot of people to compare it to, but it's good. Yet, if it's making Astarion miserable, he can't in any good conscience keep accepting his propositions.] I want to see you again because I like spending time with you. If it was just for...lustful purposes, I wouldn't care as much about this apology.

[He shifts under Astarion until he's sitting up with his back against the chair arm.] I know, I asked for you to sleep with me that night, but I thought that's what you wanted. I needed the practice. But you were nice to me, and I wanted to know you as a person. If we're never going to bed together again, it's fine. But I want you to stay.

[To say he's astonished is an understatement. He's not entirely stupid, he knows not everyone in the world likes to have sex, and they get by fine in relationships (or so he has been informed), but relating that to him never crossed his mind. Even before Cazador he would trade sex for favors, but he would also have it because he did want to.

However, the two had just grown so entwined he had forgotten how to consider it. The roots of something ugly and infectious had tangled with something natural within Astarion, leeched it of its normalcy, its beauty, that it was impossible to think of one without the other.

Over the past year and a half since his journey with the tadpole, he had taken more care for himself, not feeling like every night he was supposed to be in someone's bed or sharing his own. It had felt like enough of a success in growth--even so, he would still traded his body for things, especially when he needed extra help in his Underdark journeys and he didn't have enough coin to cover hiring someone.

Now here's Taryon, someone Astarion does enjoy being with, lustfully speaking, but how many of those moments of sexual pleasure had he actually wanted versus the ingrained impulse to reward Taryon with his body for spending time with him? Whenever Taryon asked not to have sex, Astarion eventually grew to understand and not ask, "Are you sure?" But on nights Taryon didn't set that boundary, it was incredibly rare Astarion himself didn't initiate something.

Everything is running through his head, a jumble of alien thoughts and feelings that he needs to work through.

But he supposes he doesn't need to alone. He looks at Taryon, brows furrowed, eyes shining with so much.]

Uh. Well--that is--that is something I will have to think about. [He reaches out, taking one of Taryon's hands in both of his.] If you don't mind waiting? I mean, about the sex, I don't want to leave. I really don't. I--

[A pause and a swallow, the last time he said something like this he was soon after left for another man. But he shouldn't let that deter him, not now.]

--I rather like you. Quite a bit.

[Astarion is quiet for a long while, and worry creeps over Taryon's face. He might have been too harsh - what if he had said that they could space out their nights of intercourse? Did he think Taryon was going along with Astarion's seduction out of obligation? What if Taryon misread his intentions in the past?

A brief tally of their moments together tells him that Astarion was typically the one initiating things. On their picnic, he directed their passion downwards. When he visited their house, he would throw in innuendo and lean back on his chair as if to show off the glimps of a chest under his shirt. His hand would be the first to trace over Taryon's torso. And now, the offer of an apology. If he wanted all of that, who is Taryon to deny him?

The stuttering answer yanks him from his stream of concerns. Their mutual relief brings this minute of stress to an end, and Taryon wraps his hand around the one that holds it.]

I like you, too. [His voice is soft, though it's higher in tone than usual.] And I won't mind at all.

[It was odd, for all those times he did want to be with Taryon, to make him happy, see him come undone under his hands or over him as he was buried deep within him with eyes that grew more affectionate with every new night together. So maybe the problem wasn't the sex itself, just how he gave it. Or some matter like that.

Yes, he will have to meditate over it that night. And maybe a few other nights.

But if Taryon would be there with him, it wouldn't be as terrifying.

He huffs a laugh at the sound of his voice, but his words ease his mind, and melt his heart. Such simple words, not even a "love", but it still makes him so happy, and his eyes shine with it as he leans in to press his forehead to his.]

You have been a light in my life, Taryon. I need you to know that.

[He gives him a small kiss on the lips.]

Would it be rude of me to ask to stay the night tonight?

[His lips curl into a smile during the kiss, which remain even after Astarion pulls away.]

No, not at all. [He shifts his elbows to more comfortably settle onto the couch while keeping Astarion warm and hugged.] I mean, as long as you only want to sleep with me. I mean--!

[Sigh.] Let's share a bed and fall asleep, because my neck will hate me if I stay here for any longer. [Although he makes no motion to push Astarion off of him. It's up to the other man to decide if Tary will sleep on a soft and warm bed or be trapped here all night under a cool (if almost as good as a blanket) vampire.]

[Taryon's hold has never felt warmer or stronger, and he finds himself sinking back into him as he pillows his head on his shoulder.

He chuckles, and pets his chest.]

I understand what you're saying. I wouldn't want your friend--pardon me, your best friend--to be annoyed with us so I shall behave in bed. As long as kisses good night are still on the table, that is.

Oh, those are always available at your disposal. Kiss away.

[He turns to rest his cheek on the back of Astarion's head.]

Vex won't mind it. I've seen worse between her and Percival.

Kisses, that is. Nothing involving clothing being removed.

[At such an invitation, Astarion removes one of Taryon's hands from its hold and brings it to his lips to kiss. He leaves it there still in his hand, breathing softly on Taryon's knuckles as the elf basks in this comfort.]

Hah, I would hope not. I can only imagine your reaction if you were caught in such a situation.

[Taryon shudders, and Astarion's human mattress quivers.]

Gross! Don't make me imagine seeing her in any capacity like that!

[Percival, though? Embarassing, but something Taryon can live with.]

OPEN RP + OVERFLOW

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rolled an insight of 15 hell yeah

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