#|| ❝ measure twice. cut once ❞ || verse undefined

[sanguisarcana]

@infernaliscor || continued

Perhaps the best knee jerker about flinging Astarion was that, rather like a cat, he'd always at least attempt to land on his feet. And often succeeded. Much to the pale elf's dismay, his barbarian lover was likely taken with the idea of testing those limits. Like smearing butter over bread and seeing how often it would land face down.

Limits of which the vampire wished not to be tested.

"You could have gotten your hands on a featherfall scroll, or on Neverwinter's softest pillows for all I care. The answer's still no." A resounding, well-rounded no that made him sound not like a lover, but a parent scolding their child over teenagehood mischief.

"If it's all the same to you, we could con the circus folk into turning your urge into an act. I'm fairly certain their newest clown wouldn't mind too terribly being launched like a bag of throwing all the way across the stage." Huffing and puffing, Astarion's muscles unwound with a roll of his shoulders to straighten spine as he kissed the spade of his fangs, head cocking. "Who knows? Maybe they'll even land on their feet if they're lucky."

Astarion was half-hoping they'd land on their face.

#infernaliscor #|| ❝ measure twice. cut once ❞ || verse undefined

[sanguisarcana]

“What the FUUUUUCK” bunny hops over to him with her kecks around her knees, grunting all the way. “Fangs, I really need your help, I think my breeches mended themselves while I was napping?!?!”

@infernaliscor || kinda prompted?

Somewhere in the distance, a resonant cry echoed.

Had Astarion been mid-drink, it would have fountained right out of his nostrils with the inevitable chuckle that came over him at the barbarian's approach. The very same which begged for a set of fingers pressed to his lips in an attempt to silence them.

Quick enough to compose himself before Karlach arrived, the pale elf's face was the caricature of innocence in all of its (natural 20) crooked deception.

"By the gods, how awful! Who did this?!" Let alone he was the mastermind behind it. Astarion and... someone else. Someone who had lent ears to the sweet temptation of his persuasive attempts at moving hands that weren't his to fully control. "Give me that, darling. Oh, hells- whoever's done this made dog's dinner of the seamwork. I mean, look at all of those crooked seams. It's tragic, honestly."

Holding up Karlach's trousers after she finally surrendered them to him, Astarion made for his dagger to tear the stitching apart and open room for her tail once more.

"There you go, my dear. We will find the upstart responsible for this travesty- and if we don't at least you can wear your trousers again, hm?"

There was a hint of malice behind his last reassuring smile. A touch too perfect to be natural. Or sincere, for that matter. Or perhaps the only sincerity within it was the depravity of it all. A vile sense of amusement Astarion secretly drew from that entire chain of events alone.

One true charlatan, he was.

#{ the hypocrisy of it all. the audacity. the pizzaz 🍷} #infernaliscor #|| ❝ ask and you shall receive ❞ || asks #|| ❝ measure twice. cut once ❞ || verse undefined

[sanguisarcana]

He appeared to be well off, which was the main reason she'd focused her attention on him. Pirates would be pirates, and thieves would be thieves; before anything at all, Nami was interested in what she could gain, rather than the people she could befriend. Whether he had a treasure trove she could raid, or a wallet to steal, she would be gone before the sun rose. The drunken chants and cheers of the party counting down to midnight began, and with a single step, she closed the distance between them, a kiss to his lips. "Tradition," the redhead tittered, grinning as she pulled back. "I'm sure it's bad luck to start the new year without a kiss. We wouldn't want that, would we?" // hi bby <3

@chatcambrioleur || came for a kiss with teeth ♡

Heavy-lidded eyes dyed crimson swept the pub in equal parts cynicism and critical apathy. For all of their bearer's ghastly beauty, they spared not a shred of goodwill towards the merry and the drunk- splintering sympathy with indifference and exuding remote hostility with the same ease lesser men drew breath.

The kind of look folk would raise caution about.

It wasn't until the last toll of midnight that, instead of the kiss of metal meeting his mouth for yet another sip, somebody stole the spotlight with a peck of her own much to his awe. Hair touched by fire and eyes by mischief. A nugget of gold in a pile of shit.

Pretty.

Like seasons changed, the pale elf's features went through gradients. Astarion wasn't quite certain what landed his surprise the most: the gloss of lip balm now clinging to his lips, the subtle blend of oud and meadowsweet from her perfume, or the fucking audacity.

His shock had been genuine. Perhaps the most he'd manifested the whole night.

The quirk of that ruinous smile was not.

"Well," Astarion lifted his drink head-high, dancing to her tune. The warm liquid inside too dark to be beer, too thick to be wine. "I'll consider myself the luckiest then." Every word landed on lyrical note, every motion theatrical.

He was the perfect nectar for pretty little warblers like her to drink from.

#{ nami you're dealing with a dangerous dangerous man here } #|| ❝ measure twice. cut once ❞ || verse undefined #vampirates verse. tbt #chatcambrioleur