#strighym drabbles

[noamuth]

Banter: Astarion

Dalamus sits in his usual spot, at a table set up in front of his tent where all his attempted gemcutting takes place. He sits straight, posture immaculate and piwafwi hood drawn over his head as he polishes the face of a stone with fine grit. But someone is lurking...

"Touch my hood, vlos'dritalur, and you will lose your hand."

A huff of exasperation leaves Astarion as he finally steps into view from behind Dalamus. "I don't get it," he says, arms crossed and head tilted. "Why does the little parasite protect me from the sun, but not you?"

Dalamus does not look up. "And I am to know the answer to this, how?"

"Doesn't it annoy you that we don't know anything about our little stowaways?" Astarion asks, gesturing flippantly with a hand. "It annoys me."

"It takes very little to annoy you, Astarion. Perhaps they are playing favorites, and your worm likes you more." Dalamus smirks as he finally peers up at the pale elf.

Astarion is anything but amused. "Oh, I don't like that answer. This face was not made for tentacles, you know. Are you sure it hasn't affected your reaction to sunlight? Have you even checked?"

Dalamus rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "I still burn. But I do not burst into flames as a vampire would. Seems to me that would be a vital problem to solve if it wishes to turn you."

"I suppose..." He sighs dramatically. "Oh, alright. I suppose that's the best answer I'm going to get. Have fun playing with your rocks."

As Astarion leaves the way he came, he quickly pulls the hood of Dalamus' piwafwi down and briskly escapes melee range.

Dalamus simply snaps his fingers, says a word, "Ssussun," and is rewarded with the undignified shriek of a vampire who has been engulfed in flames... Until he realizes it is harmless Faerie Fire. Then the shriek is followed by a string of Elven curses--some Dalamus knows and others he, impressively, does not.

[noamuth]

How do you like the surface, Dal? Have you met any other drow up there?

"It is bright. And hot. And disturbingly open."

He crosses his arms and, after mentioning the openness of the surface, cannot help but glance at his surroundings, including behind himself.

"I have seen the surface drow," he states with some disdain. "Those who have abandoned Lolth or were born outside of Her influences, outside of our cities. It has rendered them soft, without a care in the world. Dangerous foolishness. At least they still make good craftsmen," he relents, only just, as he adjusts his brace.