estarion - Tumblr blog

[estarion]

@fallesto dares, really.

lamentable though it is, there’s no escaping the fact that regulus is barely side-bitch material. he will never own these tiddies. nor what newly rages behind them.

[estarion]

@fallesto how jelly r u that i get my way no matter what realm i enter

[estarion]

@fallesto ( REGULUS ) was really trying it with this↓

“Ah. I have had so many partners. So many who are mine and only mine, but none of them come close to you. Your heart. Your beauty. Your voice. I have to have it, I need you. I need to have you as mine. I will give you anything you want, for your love. Anything at all. I will burn an entire kingdom down, just for you. Is that not romantic? I will offer you a thousand souls right now, of all the people in this area, to see a smile on your face. Ugh. I cannot take it, I am getting all flustered and heated. You are truly a diamond within this world, and if you will not be mine, then…no one will have you…”

“—I mean. He’s a fucking idiot. But the man has taste…”

[estarion]

@fallesto ( REGULUS ) is all kinds of deluded bruh

Smokes a fat one whilst Regulus sits there like some sad, flawed goods awaiting a pity purchase. “In short—the ‘stealing bitches’ hearts’ thing has fallen through, and you’re looking for a more permanent solution?”

Why not say so from the beginning. All this egregious, drawn-out foreplay. “Yield your neck, I’ll make you mine right now. No need for silly games.” Or wives. Or whatever. “Though, I will need to have you try on a set of maid’s garb first, just to be sure you are worthy of a place at my side. Do not fret—I’ve already had something made to your exact measure.”

Come closer, white boy; time to be absolutely gift-wrapped…

[estarion]

"Are you having an affair?"

“Does my hand for several hours in front of the looking glass count?” His lilt betrays an element of inattention; the buzz he sought all evening has finally reached his fingertips. Astarion may not have unlocked any new powers today, but he did stumble upon this. His lashes brush his cheeks as he savours the moment (for once he focuses not on pressure to prove himself, but the warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest), his tunic loosened, a single, dark pink nipple exposed. “Or do you refer to my current bedfellows?”

His slippered foot nudges one of an inhumane number of wine bottles sharing the lord-sized bed with him. Their combined worth could probably own a small borough. “… in that case, then yes. I’ve had about a hundred affairs in the last… three nights.” Is he exaggerating? Understating? No way of knowing. But he turns himself over, showing her his back; wants her to come over, get into the messy bed, and hug him from behind. Needs her to assure him that, no matter what he does, how slow his progress, he remains beautiful and haunting and hers.

[estarion]

@fallesto 🥰💋🍷

[estarion]

—and that's it.

[estarion]

@schxdenfreude asked: "You look hungry..." Falin presents him with grilled phase spider meat, skewered with peppers and onions, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "... My brother made this. It's really very good. You should eat."

He mechanically accepts the brochette, prepared to fling it into the river after she’s gone (a piece at a time, maybe; see how high and far he can make them soar from the bank)—but she doesn’t budge, seemingly set to linger by until she’s seen him take at least one bite. Befuddled, burdened, lashes flutter for a split second of debate.

“Actually—” he scrunches his nose, cautiously returning it. Better not to waste this stuff. He withdraws his hand only once certain she has a firm grip. “I’ve already had my… needs met tonight.”

No more hiding, no more conformity. He is what he is. Resentment, too, is a part of him. Especially when he hears how well they all get on, meals and laughter shared by the fire. It strikes as odd that anyone would consider including him; that she thought slabs of grey mystery meat would benefit one of his nature. Perhaps if they were raw, red, dripping. Even then, such an offer would really be more hors d'oeuvre than plat principal. “… why not enjoy it on my behalf?” There’s ample space beside him on the fallen log, too, if she’s so inclined.

If she isn’t, Astarion regains his solitude. And that’s fine.

[estarion]

another night and i’ll see you ; another night and i’ll be you

[estarion]

—pardon him as he hurls himself towards the sun.

"Oh great, I am here for only pain and suffering, right!"

[estarion]

@fallesto

[estarion]

deranged, insane, evil, feral, off-putting, appalling, etc

[estarion]

@noctecor what if we made out but dressed up like characters from one of amano yoshitaka’s final fantasy concept arts or something 👉👈

[estarion]

i am looking disrespectfully

[estarion]

He makes the first sip look the utmost pleasure, languid delight in the whirl, whiff, and intake. Sighs softly, as if it's just what was needed after a long day. Licks his lips in between sips two and three. The reality—? His mouth is shriveling, moisture dissolving, stomach clenching at each and every swallow. Still, his posture never falters; he smiles graciously for the maid who will not look away. “Sorry, you thought what?” He is chuckling, even as his throat tingles and burns and she gets him right, yet again. “You don’t strike me as one to appreciate… buttering.” He rubs his chin, whirls his wine once more. Boosts both brows at her as he pulls the glass halfway up to his lips. “Am I wrong?”

What he really wants confirmed—though is waiting to ask —is that there’s a serviceable outhouse nearby. Without the deploy of his usual tricks, he’ll need somewhere to purge later. But later is not now. Now is him halting to consider the impact a ‘face like his’ has (it must be a compliment—), before remembering his place in another’s scheme. “Not so very long. I’m here on leisure. Staying with my cousin for the season.” A high elf of repute within the city; one of many beneath Cazador’s thumb, and someone Astarion has never met. But, a waiting alibi—should he ever need one.

“What of yourself, Odette? I recall you from the other night. Yours isn’t a face so easily forgotten either, you know.” A dab of butter, just to see. He’s watching her eyes. Remembering other details from that night. “… nor is the way you handled the little brawl that nearly erupted at one of those back tables.” He jerks his head in the direction. “What were they even fighting about?” Asks mister ‘hates-to-gossip’.

she can't help but snort just a bit at his words , emerald eyes rolling in amusement. ❛ i was just going to say you look like a wine kind of guy.  ❜ she smirks a bit as she crouches down , fishing out one of the nicer bottles of wine to set it on the counter. ❛ you also look like the type to fish for compliments. shouldn't you be buttering me up with compliments ? could have sworn that's where this dynamic was going.   ❜

she opens up the wine bottle &* pours him a glass , then one for herself. it's common practice , to join a particularly good patron in their drink. a perk if you asked her ! as she takes a sip , she arches a brow at him. ❛ so. have you been in baldur's gate long ? i think i'd remember a face like yours.   ❜ a chance to drop the earlier conversation completely ; the bar is dead either way -- her attention is not needed elsewhere for the time being.

[estarion]

@fallesto

girl—if you ain’t notice, this MY world

[estarion]

Strip for me.

Lae’zel is as brutal as she is unwittingly hilarious. He’s thinking so as he presses his back into the crumbled, ancient wall, hand loosely wrapped around the neck of a cheap wine bottle. He rotates the base atop bent knee, allowing one too many beats to pass for Lae’zel’s apparent liking.

Slit pupils squeeze in on him; Astarion ignores the tingle at his nape and lifts his chin, gaze moving in a slow, heavy drag up and down her otherworldly physique. He’s open to lending a hand or tongue wherever it may so be needed (he knows he’s her last resort for scratching some itch, and he’s had his moments of curiosity about her too), but he will not be the Gith’s whimpering, submissive little bitch tonight, so if that’s what she had in mind, well—he’s about to knock it right out. “No,” he asserts, voice firm, brow cocked. “You.”