[Astarion sighs, crossing his arms with one hand free to press his chin into, watching Fenris evenly. He can practically see the gears turning before he comes up with that very obvious thing he just said, hmm--]
Something like that. Have you met us?
[Us, he says, because wouldn't he do the same if any of them suddenly turned on the rest? Undoubtedly he would, if only to save his own hide. He taps his temple, idly, which will make sense as an indicator of the worm they're all carrying around when he says,]
What is it we're doing already if not trying to remove a threat? Nothing brings the group together like a fresh monster to fight!
[Worms, vampire spawn, please— don't try to tell him the group is suddenly going to develop a unified conscience about threat management. Perhaps if their lovely leader had found him out first, he could have winked his way into a good word with the rest, but Fenris is another story entirely.
Astarion shifts, more uncomfortable than he's willing to readily admit, much as it already shows; Fenris has found the animals, which means Fenris has surely done some rudimentary arithmetic about how much blood that is, and can Astarion really blame him for any judgments he might be making right this very second?
(Yes, obviously, he can and will, but still! Still.)
Urgh.]
By the Hells, don't tell me you would tell all, if you were me. After mere days?
I might. Better they hear it from your lips instead of like this, in the dead of night. If you offer it up yourself, it at least comes from a position of strength.
[And all right . . . he's fairly sure that if the vampire were to attack, it would have happened already. Fenris sighs and relaxes somewhat, his arms crossing over his chest. They uncross immediately as he realizes they're mirroring each other, but whatever, the point is: he's not going to attack, probably.]
But I came to assess a threat, not pass a moral judgement. If you have no intention of feeding on anyone, I . . .
[Know that, naturally, "a position of strength" makes him roll his eyes; he does not care about the group's opinions of his personal integrity as long as no one is trying to put a stake in his heart, honestly. It's completely self-serving that he's even considered telling the others just a little, obviously.
Anyway, Fenris' unintentionally mirroring him and hastily unmirroring makes his lip curl in a terrible, asshole vampire sneer, but he holds his hands up and shakes his head, conceding something or other. Maybe just that he's not going to say anything about how alike they are, again. Give him a point for that.]
Certainly not you, you skinny little thing.
[Not Yet (tm) but who's counting--]
Now, either help me find a savory woodland creature or leave me to my supper in peace, hmm?
[He's not really offended, but still, he feels he ought to say something to that affect. He's not skinny. He's a twunk, not a twink. It's a matter of working at it. That said: this is about the time he ought to just turn around and go to bed, but . . .
Instead, he falls into step next to Asterion, glancing down at the ground. Does he know how to hunt? He does not! He is not Dalish! This is not his arena! Which really makes you wonder what he's doing out here, but maybe it's that he doesn't feel like being alone just yet.]
How much blood do you need at minimum? A rabbit? A stag?
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Something like that. Have you met us?
[Us, he says, because wouldn't he do the same if any of them suddenly turned on the rest? Undoubtedly he would, if only to save his own hide. He taps his temple, idly, which will make sense as an indicator of the worm they're all carrying around when he says,]
What is it we're doing already if not trying to remove a threat? Nothing brings the group together like a fresh monster to fight!
[Worms, vampire spawn, please— don't try to tell him the group is suddenly going to develop a unified conscience about threat management. Perhaps if their lovely leader had found him out first, he could have winked his way into a good word with the rest, but Fenris is another story entirely.
Astarion shifts, more uncomfortable than he's willing to readily admit, much as it already shows; Fenris has found the animals, which means Fenris has surely done some rudimentary arithmetic about how much blood that is, and can Astarion really blame him for any judgments he might be making right this very second?
(Yes, obviously, he can and will, but still! Still.)
Urgh.]
By the Hells, don't tell me you would tell all, if you were me. After mere days?
no subject
[And all right . . . he's fairly sure that if the vampire were to attack, it would have happened already. Fenris sighs and relaxes somewhat, his arms crossing over his chest. They uncross immediately as he realizes they're mirroring each other, but whatever, the point is: he's not going to attack, probably.]
But I came to assess a threat, not pass a moral judgement. If you have no intention of feeding on anyone, I . . .
[Hmm.]
. . . will keep it to myself for a time.
no subject
Anyway, Fenris' unintentionally mirroring him and hastily unmirroring makes his lip curl in a terrible, asshole vampire sneer, but he holds his hands up and shakes his head, conceding something or other. Maybe just that he's not going to say anything about how alike they are, again. Give him a point for that.]
Certainly not you, you skinny little thing.
[Not Yet (tm) but who's counting--]
Now, either help me find a savory woodland creature or leave me to my supper in peace, hmm?
no subject
[He's not really offended, but still, he feels he ought to say something to that affect. He's not skinny. He's a twunk, not a twink. It's a matter of working at it. That said: this is about the time he ought to just turn around and go to bed, but . . .
Instead, he falls into step next to Asterion, glancing down at the ground. Does he know how to hunt? He does not! He is not Dalish! This is not his arena! Which really makes you wonder what he's doing out here, but maybe it's that he doesn't feel like being alone just yet.]
How much blood do you need at minimum? A rabbit? A stag?