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[tadpoled]

“Ah, this is Tav. Kindly leave your message.”

voice ; text ; action;

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[tadpoled]

[Tav mouths the word ‘how’ as he leans back in his seat. But then there’s thr question that touches on the subject of memory that makes Tav nervous.]

I… don’t know. I don’t have a lot of memories from before waking up on a beach alone.

[cozen]

Oh. Well, that is interesting.

[ Amnesia! Just like in stories. Maybe Tav is a castaway prince. ]

Was that very long ago?

[tadpoled]

I suppose it is.

[Oh if Bastien only knee.]

A month, maybe two or three. I’ve gotten some memories back, but they aren’t particularly pleasant.

[cozen]

[ Bastien inclines his head to one side, considering that while he chews through the gristle in some of his stew meat. His gaze is searching and curious. Of course he'd like to pry. But after he swallows, he doesn't ask. ]

One or two or three months–so in a way, you are kind of a baby.

[tadpoled]

[Tav grins again; he's growing to like Bastien and his sense of humor.]

Seems I am. Albeit quite an unruly baby.

[cozen]

In my experience, 'unruly' is the main kind of baby.

[ Not that he hangs out with a lot of infants. But a few, now and again. ]

I would ask how you could possibly be worse, but, you know. Word gets around. [ He knows about the murder thing. But he's not here to talk about it, so he doesn't let the statement linger before moving on. ] So, d'accord, one to three months. What have you learned you enjoy?

[tadpoled]

[Word gets around. Tav's heart clenches for a moment, but he reminds himself that Bastien has talked with him as a person, not a monster, this entire time. They've laughed together as if Tav weren't a horrible excuse of an elf who destroyed others and caused panic in Baldur's Deep.

He sucks in a breath and then releases it.] I enjoy plants and my magic allows them to grow in difficult terrain. I like my companions, even the difficult ones. I've also realized I don't like diplomacy. I always seem to say the wrong thing in tense situations.

[He taps his left cheek, just below his left eye.]

[cozen]

[ Staring at or asking about the eye would have been rude, before, but that tap seems like permission. Bastien looks at it, blank and white, and raises his eyebrows. ]

That’s failed diplomacy?

[tadpoled]

Tried negotiating with a hag. [Tav leans back in his chair again.] I would not recommend it.

[cozen]

You cannot say something like that and not tell me the story.

tw: some eye gore

[tadpoled]

[Tav can't help but smirk at Bastien's enthusiasm.]

We were trying to make a deal for her help and I volunteered to pay the price. She had these long fingers and plucked my eye right out of the socket. She said she kissed it and put it back, but it's now got this film over it. Can't see out of it any more.

[Tav shrugs.] I probably should have consulted with my companions first, but at the time I barely knew them. And I suppose this was their first clue that I make terrible decisions.

[cozen]

[ Laughing a little, ]

No shit?

[ He leans over the table, squinting, to try to get a better look at the eye. He'd assumed it was glass. A handful of people in Riftwatch have glass eyes these days. Filmy and hag-kissed, though— ]

And when you say hag, you mean...?

[ Long eye-plucking fingers goes a bit beyond insult for an old woman who may or may not be a hedge witch. ]

[tadpoled]

A witch of sorts, who lives in a bog. Long fingers, ready to pluck your eyes out.

[Tav doesn’t notice Bastien leaning in closer on his left side at first. Not until he enters the scope of his right eye. Then, he flicks both over to Bastien.]

It’s a rather permanent reminder to not negotiate with hags.

[cozen]

I will try to remember you if I ever run into one.

[tadpoled]

[Tav smiles wider; he feels relaxed, welcomed, like he could tell Bastien the craziest story and still be met with understanding.

He clears his throat and glances down at the table for a moment before turning his gaze back up to Bastien.]

If I met myself in the wild on a bad night, I’d run away just as fast.

[cozen]

Ah ouias. Handsome elves.

[ His tone is observational and facetiously wise, like yes, of course, who wouldn't run from that. ]

A common phobia.

[tadpoled]

[The heat of attraction burns through Tav’s chest before be tamps down on it. He’s just lonely and misses Gale; to indulge would be a mistake, especially with the secret he’s about to indulge.]

I don’t quite— [Fuck. This is harder than he thought. What if Bastien immediately runs? They seem to almost be friends and revealing this could ruin this.]

I’m a murderer. Or I am on bad nights. I kill without rhyme or reason.

[His shoulders tighten.]

I am the son of the god of murder where I’m from and was a prolific killer until my memories were erased.

[cozen]

[ If Bastien hadn't been forewarned about the first part—if he hadn't been asked to come be friendly specifically because of the first part—he might have more trouble controlling his face.

But he was forewarned. So when Tav says I'm a murderer, he's already lifting his eyebrows and his chin, preparing to give a little nod and say that he knows. And it's a simple enough thing to keep his pleasant smile unaffected by the second part, since it's already in place. ]

Oh.

[ The smile twitches. Not because it wants to turn into a terrified frown. More because he's about to say something stupid, and he isn't very much trying to hide the fact that he's only teasing before he nods. ]

Just like my uncle Herle.

[tadpoled]

[Tav is watching Bastien closely for any sign of fear or contempt. He wouldn't blame Bastien for leaving. Tav, then, remembers that Bastien already knows, in a way and the twitch of Bastien's smile draws Tav back into himself.

Like my Uncle Herle.

Tav physically curls into himself and shakes his head. He should've remembered the most important rule from the Captain: discretion. What if he's told another writer?

He pushes up from the table, head ducked.]

[cozen]

Hey— oh no.

[ Bastien stays seated. But he leans forward, trying to get a better look at the expression on Tav’s ducked face.

This is the worst he has miscalculated an attempt to put someone at ease about something in quite a while. ]

I’m sorry. I’m not making fun of you. It’s only—

[ He doesn’t really have the cultural frame of reference necessary to explain what this is like: like if little men in UFOs came down from space, over and over, and every now and then one of them mentioned they were a god among their own people. Interesting, sure, but in the scope of everything else, not really revelatory. ]

—it’s alright. I’m not scared. That’s all I meant.

[tadpoled]

You don't need to lie. [Tav keeps drawing away, pushing in his seat. His brows are furrowed, not in embarrassment, but a heavy sense of uselessness, worthlessness even. He's ready to run, if allowed the chance.]

I'll be next to gossip about, won't I.

[Still backing away.]

[cozen]

[ Bastien tilts his head, bewilderment seeping into his expression as he tries to follow the connection between those two things. The connection between his joke and this reaction. ]

What?

[tadpoled]

[Tav tries to control the shame he'd felt when the Captain had informed him that 'Louis' had been a writer, someone to dramatize the lives of those in the Riftwatch. He'd talked with him like a friend and his secret was out to however many people. The Captain had advised discretion and here Tav had broken that rule again.]

You're one of those writers from before, aren't you.

[Nevermind that he still isn't sleeping well, not even with a lock on his door.]

[cozen]

Nnno.

[ He stirs his stew, considering this accusation for a second before he continues. ]

I'm Bastien. I am in the Diplomacy division. I have worked for Riftwatch for—for as long as it has been here. You could call me a founding member, but I won't insist. That would be pretentious.

The writers were only here for the week. They are gone.

[tadpoled]

[Tav steps back, but pauses to blink for a moment. So Bastien isn't one of those writers, then. Is he truly so unafraid of him that he's willing to make jokes about his condition? Sure, his companions has been light-hearted about the issue, but only Astarion seemed to have the heart to joke about killing Alfira or the possibility of any of them dying a horrible death.

Sucking in a breath, Tav nods and leans on the back of his chair. I am... deeply sorry. I had a bad experience with them. I thought... [Well, he doesn't think he needs to explain just how bad.]

Bastien. [He wraps his mouth around the name again as he raises his eyes to place the face with the name.] I can only offer my deepest apologies for my reaction.