Anyway I'd say it depends on the sole condition I could choose my vampiric master. Because if not, I'd take those gilded demonic tits without a second thought.
It's vanity if you preen and twirl each time you bring home new stockings. I am not teasing your attractiveness, but your own awareness of it.
[His utterly inane point made, he considers that answer. It is a good one, even if some part of him recoils to think of Astarion possessed, hypothetical or not. But hmm . . . if this is to be a game, let it be a game, and Astarion's answer is far too easily given to let it linger.
And gods, he wouldn't play this game with anyone else— but then again, when has Astarion ever been anything save exception to all the rules?]
You may choose your vampiric master, but he— or she— cannot be wholly pleasant. How hellish a master are you willing to tolerate?
[Time to play every slave's favorite game: just how much could you take?]
But what an excellent set of conditions. Permit me then to add my own: neither of us can serve as master to the other in this scenario— temporarily or otherwise.
[And for the record: hellish? Very funny, Leto.]
Now then.
Vampiric enslavement is eternal, as you well know. Possession? Unlikely to be, if we're speaking solely of its Thedosian strains. High chance of turning gruesomely nightmarish, though, while of course vampirism only serves to add more beauty to the equation. Yet on the other other hand, possession allows for food and drink and pleasure without crippling weakness as a counter.
Immortality could prove benefit or curse depending on the above constraints, so I won't pin that against vampirism outright, and either way we'd be in no control of our own bodies or minds, so fretting about free will is utterly pointless.
[Hmmm. Mmmm.
....eugh.]
You know I'm beggining to suspect I just don't want to agree to my own folly twice, even if it proves the objectively better deal.
Besides, at least with a demon granting my every wish I could have some fun. Bring about the downfall of the Chantry, take Tevinter for the elves, rule from an iron throne.
Lucky, then, that my choice is vampirism. I'll have more than enough time to save you from your demonic folly, beautiful thing that you are. If there is one thing Tevinter was good for, it was dealing with demons— and I cannot imagine some noble family hasn't come up with a method of exorcism. They wouldn't risk their precious heirs in the Harrowing if they didn't.
[And again: this is all hypothetical, but still. Maybe Leto outlines that plan for his own sake, just in case anything like this were to ever occur.]
Though at least your answer is well thought out. And I can respect not wishing to make the same choice twice.
Would you rather marry the richest duke in the city, and be cared for all your days, or your wandering drow hero, who leaps in to dashingly carry you away? Drizzle . . . you know who I mean.
[Aren't you sweet, darling? He's charmed to know his gallant-yet-monstrously-befanged vampiric mate will come rushing in to free him— hypothetically.]
As can I. We'll make an enviable team, I think, between my pactborne prowess and your unmatch [Astarion starts to pen in response to that secondary point before being distracted by:]
You were the one who changed the subject in the first place and no. it. does. NOT. sound the same. Not unless you've somehow gone deaf before even reaching your full years from spending all your time around those
So insulting. As if you weren't constantly straining your ears to hear what they were gossiping about.
And you still haven't answered my question. Distracted by a matter of L and T's, which sound similar enough across most languages and accents. [That's absolutely not true at all.] The first two syllable match— and you knew who I meant.
Oh no no no. Don't you dare play innocent with me.
You're too much trouble to pull it off. [And no, he won't be considering the implications of that in reverse for all the times he himself has lounged about with a coy rumble in his throat and a smile on his lips after starting a fight.]
No, I erred. I have no desire to be a Duke, on principle alone if nothing else. You'll have to stick with my being a hero and put away your dreams of being fucked by me at both ends.
And if you are going to deliberately cheat, I will not ask you another hypothetical.
I'll never put that dream away, thank you very much. But fine. Even if the logic in your scenario makes no utter sense, given the sole creature that I'd choose—
I'd seduce the Duke, take his (or her) copious wealth, and away with it in the night to marry the aforementioned Blue Wraith.
That is a proper answer— and the correct one too, now that I think of it. Though so long as you are in the neighborhood, you can kill the Duke and we can steal their estate too.
Drizzt won't do that with you.
[He has 0 idea what Drizzt Do'Urden will or will not do in any given hypothetical.]
Tell me another of his exploits tonight.
[But then:]
A slow death via poison, so you have time enough to finish some task even as you writhe in agony, or a swift, albeit useless one via sword?
[And for the record: no, Drizzt undeniably wouldn't. Sometimes the sort of love you dreamed of as a young, daft little creature can only pale beside the real thing when it comes.
Particularly when it's wiling to assassinate a Duke.
Romantic.]
Ah ah ah. Not so fast, my pretty little love. You don't get to avoid playing your own hand: it's your turn to answer now. Marry the handsome, wealthy enviable vampiric aristocrat
At least give me a new question. What sport is there in a question you already know the answer to?
[A deliberate pause, and then:]
Though I suppose I could learn to live with the aristocrat, so long as he rid himself of the habit of patronizing his lover whenever he wished to score a cheap point.
[And of course the answer is Astarion. Of course it's always him. No matter the world, no matter the circumstances, high-born or low, rich or poor, monstrous or mortal— always, always, Leto will choose him.
But where's the fun in that?
That said: he does feel a tiny bit bad for not saying so when Astarion's own answers had been so fiercely devout. Perhaps, too, for the tease about patronizing, for he does enjoy it (and his heart has not forgotten their fight, Astarion's hurt over Leto's rejection of his form of doting; he never wants to imply that he does not cherish and crave each indulgence Astarion revels in giving him).
But on the other hand, they neither of them are so thin-skinned. And he can mollify his vampire later, whispering assurances of love and devotion between hungry kisses.]
Try again, my handsome aristocrat. And count yourself lucky I bite my tongue when it comes to your age in return.
[He absolutely cannot think about Astarion fucking him at both ends, because that way lies ruin. His ruin, specifically, and his ruin of his pants to begin with.
And yet:]
Interesting you bring that up. I have a surprise for you when next I see you.
[But then, without pause:]
The Black Divine. If only for the look on every magister's face when they see an elf in a seat of power above them all. I will not deny Corypheus' power is a tempting thing, if only to bring down Tevinter.
But the Black Divine (or the True Divine, as you would be forced to call me; the Black Divine is a mocking name, and frowned upon in Tevinter) can do that as well, preferably with a minimal of slaughter and death. It would be more difficult, admittedly, and I do not doubt I would have my fair share of trouble— though I think immediately dissolving the magisterium would force all those mages to rush to save their own fortunes and meager power instead of allying against me.
For a time, anyway. I suspect such a position would only end in assassination. But it would be a useful role for how long it lasted.
And I will not be forced to become a corrupted amalgam of red lyrium and a darkspawn, which is a plus.
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[His utterly inane point made, he considers that answer. It is a good one, even if some part of him recoils to think of Astarion possessed, hypothetical or not. But hmm . . . if this is to be a game, let it be a game, and Astarion's answer is far too easily given to let it linger.
And gods, he wouldn't play this game with anyone else— but then again, when has Astarion ever been anything save exception to all the rules?]
You may choose your vampiric master, but he— or she— cannot be wholly pleasant. How hellish a master are you willing to tolerate?
[Time to play every slave's favorite game: just how much could you take?]
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I suppose we'll never know.
[Deep questions with your beloved husband.]
But what an excellent set of conditions. Permit me then to add my own: neither of us can serve as master to the other in this scenario— temporarily or otherwise.
[And for the record: hellish? Very funny, Leto.]
Now then.
Vampiric enslavement is eternal, as you well know. Possession? Unlikely to be, if we're speaking solely of its Thedosian strains. High chance of turning gruesomely nightmarish, though, while of course vampirism only serves to add more beauty to the equation. Yet on the other other hand, possession allows for food and drink and pleasure without crippling weakness as a counter.
Immortality could prove benefit or curse depending on the above constraints, so I won't pin that against vampirism outright, and either way we'd be in no control of our own bodies or minds, so fretting about free will is utterly pointless.
[Hmmm. Mmmm.
....eugh.]
You know I'm beggining to suspect I just don't want to agree to my own folly twice, even if it proves the objectively better deal.
Besides, at least with a demon granting my every wish I could have some fun. Bring about the downfall of the Chantry, take Tevinter for the elves, rule from an iron throne.
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[Take that, cursed magics.]
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[And again: this is all hypothetical, but still. Maybe Leto outlines that plan for his own sake, just in case anything like this were to ever occur.]
Though at least your answer is well thought out. And I can respect not wishing to make the same choice twice.
Would you rather marry the richest duke in the city, and be cared for all your days, or your wandering drow hero, who leaps in to dashingly carry you away? Drizzle . . . you know who I mean.
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As can I. We'll make an enviable team, I think, between my pactborne prowess and your unmatch [Astarion starts to pen in response to that secondary point before being distracted by:]
Drizzle?
It's Drizzt, my love. D r i z z T.
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My unmatched what? Don't get distracted.
[:)]
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the same either
DISTRACTED??
You were the one who changed the subject in the first place and no. it. does. NOT. sound the same. Not unless you've somehow gone deaf before even reaching your full years from spending all your time around those
howler monkeys you call friends
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And you still haven't answered my question. Distracted by a matter of L and T's, which sound similar enough across most languages and accents. [That's absolutely not true at all.] The first two syllable match— and you knew who I meant.
[A pause, and then, thoughtfully:]
Perhaps that's his full first name.
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I know what you're doing.
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You're too much trouble to pull it off. [And no, he won't be considering the implications of that in reverse for all the times he himself has lounged about with a coy rumble in his throat and a smile on his lips after starting a fight.]
Anyway to answer your posited question: neither.
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[But no, no: he lightly crosses that out, the written version of holding up a hand in silent, grinning truce.]
You are a taken thing, though. So slot me into each position and pick an answer.
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Oh so you're hypothetical twins in this scenario? If so I'm tempted to say I'll take the heroic Blue Wraith and the highborn Duke Fenris.
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And if you are going to deliberately cheat, I will not ask you another hypothetical.
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I'd seduce the Duke, take his (or her) copious wealth, and away with it in the night to marry the aforementioned Blue Wraith.
Or Drizzt, if my first choice doesn't apply.
Hypothetically.
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Drizzt won't do that with you.
[He has 0 idea what Drizzt Do'Urden will or will not do in any given hypothetical.]
Tell me another of his exploits tonight.
[But then:]
A slow death via poison, so you have time enough to finish some task even as you writhe in agony, or a swift, albeit useless one via sword?
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[And for the record: no, Drizzt undeniably wouldn't. Sometimes the sort of love you dreamed of as a young, daft little creature can only pale beside the real thing when it comes.
Particularly when it's wiling to assassinate a Duke.
Romantic.]
Ah ah ah. Not so fast, my pretty little love. You don't get to avoid playing your own hand: it's your turn to answer now. Marry the handsome, wealthy enviable vampiric aristocrat
or a famous, dashing hero.
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[A deliberate pause, and then:]
Though I suppose I could learn to live with the aristocrat, so long as he rid himself of the habit of patronizing his lover whenever he wished to score a cheap point.
[And of course the answer is Astarion. Of course it's always him. No matter the world, no matter the circumstances, high-born or low, rich or poor, monstrous or mortal— always, always, Leto will choose him.
But where's the fun in that?
That said: he does feel a tiny bit bad for not saying so when Astarion's own answers had been so fiercely devout. Perhaps, too, for the tease about patronizing, for he does enjoy it (and his heart has not forgotten their fight, Astarion's hurt over Leto's rejection of his form of doting; he never wants to imply that he does not cherish and crave each indulgence Astarion revels in giving him).
But on the other hand, they neither of them are so thin-skinned. And he can mollify his vampire later, whispering assurances of love and devotion between hungry kisses.]
Try again, my handsome aristocrat. And count yourself lucky I bite my tongue when it comes to your age in return.
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Besides, I was the aristocrat and the hero. Unlike someone, I've not given up on the alternate reality in which I fuck you at both ends.
[More to the point, in fair play:]
Quick death. I've had enough torture in my time, and I've never loved a long goodbye.
Take Corypheus' place and continue his campaign in favor of yourself, or become the new Black Divine?
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And yet:]
Interesting you bring that up. I have a surprise for you when next I see you.
[But then, without pause:]
The Black Divine. If only for the look on every magister's face when they see an elf in a seat of power above them all. I will not deny Corypheus' power is a tempting thing, if only to bring down Tevinter.
But the Black Divine (or the True Divine, as you would be forced to call me; the Black Divine is a mocking name, and frowned upon in Tevinter) can do that as well, preferably with a minimal of slaughter and death. It would be more difficult, admittedly, and I do not doubt I would have my fair share of trouble— though I think immediately dissolving the magisterium would force all those mages to rush to save their own fortunes and meager power instead of allying against me.
For a time, anyway. I suspect such a position would only end in assassination. But it would be a useful role for how long it lasted.
And I will not be forced to become a corrupted amalgam of red lyrium and a darkspawn, which is a plus.
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Pardon?
[Care to run that by him again? Tell him what that surprise is? Give him a hint?? Maybe?? Please???
But no. No, fine, he knows he'll never get an answer until it's well and truly time for the grand reveal.]
Forced to call you? Perhaps on my knees in service at your side?
Oh now that would be a thrilling treat. Your own personal sharp-toothed consort, capable of keeping even the finest assassins in check~
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me looking up the old mission details after 3 years, my god
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voice;
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