bass-boosted whitney houston intensifies in the distance;

[doggish]

Comments

[doggish]

But you're still not quite as smart as me, is that what you mean, little magistrate?

[He sees you, little cat. Little manipulative thing, flattery so honey-sweet on his tongue that Fenris nearly falls for it.]

Tell me: where do you and I fall when it comes to your packmates? Do you rank above all the other six, or do you need your teacher's help with that?

1/2

[illithidnapped]

[Hah! Clever wolf....]

You and I sit so high above the lot they'd need binoculars to spot us.

Well, all except for Dal. She's closer. Maybe glasses for her.

2/2

[illithidnapped]

err

unless you mean where they think we rank in which case


less that.

[doggish]

No, their opinions hold no weight or meaning, now or ever.

[It's not even an insult, just an unimpressed fact.]

Though now I want to hear your ranking of the rest of them. And do not put Petras at the bottom just because you loathe him; he isn't the most idiotic of your pack.

(And it's still three days. Trust in my superior intelligence to know what is good for you).

[illithidnapped]

[Theyll circle back to three days being the bar. For now, something more important gleams amidst the measure of that claim:]

excuse me hold on just a minute

who would YOU rank lower than Petras

[doggish]

And bias your opinion? Not likely. Go on. We'll see if you're right.

[illithidnapped]

gods swear if you put Yousen after Petras or some other such nonsense I'll have you thrown to the Flaming Fist before dinner

now lets see

Leon is reasonable and fair, and when he isn't ruining an evening for the rest of us, remains a steady hand. Dal is

well, she's Dal. She has a decent head on her shoulders and a sharp mind disinclined towards bias. I'd say you and I are next for not being absolute binfires, though I'll admit we both have our moments of pettiness and spite. Yousen isn't the worst, and neither is Aurelia, which leaves

[Oh.

Oh wait.]

Youre not still livid at Violet are you? Is that who you'd place behind Petras??

[doggish]

[doggish]

[The text comes back so fast it actually sends between Astarion's messages.]

you truly think we rank third and fourth?

[illithidnapped]

[He's taking that as a yes. A definite, absolute yes.]

You don't?

[doggish]

Your little friend Dal, who suggested we feed Victoria peanuts to see if all of Leon's allergies were hereditary?

1/2

[illithidnapped]

[ —ah.]

[illithidnapped]

I mean ultimately the girl was fine though.












after a quickly applied shot.

[doggish]

Which was a great comfort to her, I'm sure. Why don't we raise the stakes and see how much rat poison she can tolerate next time, hm?

[illithidnapped]

Keep that up and you'll start giving her ideas.

'child safe rat poison' would be the biggest hit since sliced waterdavian nut cake.

[And come to think of it, so would the medical journal titled 'how much rat poison can a small human child eat without consequence.]

[doggish]

[Oh, god. Astarion has an unfortunately valid point, and frankly, Fenris wouldn't put it past any in their group (save Leon, who was near apocalyptic when he found out about the peanut incident) not to spur her on.]

Do not mention this to her. She's menace enough already.

[Is that an insult or compliment? Likely more the latter than the former, for he does like Dal, but still. She's a little too eager to lean into the mad scientist route.]

In any case: explain your choice of putting Leon ahead of either of us.

1/2

[illithidnapped]

He has a child.

2/2

[illithidnapped]

And it isn't dead yet.

[doggish]

We could keep a child alive. I have kept a child alive. And an infant, when my sister was still young. It isn't that hard.

[illithidnapped]

[....]

you reared your own sister?

[doggish]

I watched over her often while our mother worked, especially when she was an infant. It occupied most of my time. She was [hm] energetic and surprisingly fast, and prone to getting into trouble if I did not mind her.

[illithidnapped]

I don't understand.

You must've been no more than a child yourself at the time, no?

[doggish]

Yes. I was . . . I think six or so, when she was born. Something around there. Around Avouriel's age.

[It's because he says I don't understand that Fenris finds himself inclined to explain. There's no posturing, merely curiosity, and that makes all the difference.]

My mother was tasked to work all day, and we could not afford a nanny or nursemaid. Even if we could, the money would have been put to other uses. I do not know who my father was, and even if I did, he would not have been there to care for either of us.

I was a willing set of arms who could hold seven pounds and knew not to drop her; that qualified me to act as nanny. Nor did we have any other kin to help us.

It isn't so uncommon, not among the poor and the enslaved. It's one of the reasons having so many children is a useful endeavor, for all that it adds more expense: there are more hands to work, yes, but to help around the house, too. I can still cook and clean on a rudimentary level, though I do not compare to the likes of Talindra.

[A pause, and then:]

I can remember panicking when she cried. Perhaps it was not the first time, but early, certainly. It took me too long to discover all she wanted was a pacifier, and how easily that would soothe her in times of fretfulness.

[illithidnapped]

Gods.

[Reads as incredulously as it truly is, perhaps, as there's no way to soften the blow of his own wondering. An alchemical mix of shock and awe and impress, safe from any slaggish hints of revulsion or pity like what (at least a number of) the others in his pack of friends might express at learning something like this if they hadn't known about it beforehand— yet that, however, is a truth that can't be conveyed over text; good faith has to carry the burden of it. Fenris' impression of him has to carry the burden of it, because otherwise it might well as not exist.]

what about your studies? when did you sleep? play?

did you carry her around like a nursemaid? you had to have been so small

[So damned small.]

[doggish]

[The funny thing is, he does have faith. It isn't even a question, not really, and it's that lack of balking that makes Fenris double back and wonder at himself, for anyone else would be snarled at. Did you think I was indulged as you are, did you think the life of a slave was anything but misery— and indeed, he can feel that impulse rise in him.

But he knows Astarion better now, youthful thing that he is. He can hear the bafflement in his written words, ignorance foolish but not malicious. And while it doesn't make everything perfectly all right— well. Perhaps this is part of teaching, he thinks, and finds himself grateful for the distance texting brings, for it gives him time enough to release that initial snappish response.]

Small and skinny. I carried her at first like a sack of flour once her neck was strong enough to bear it: both hands around her belly and hauling her as well as I could. Later, my mother taught me how to tie her to my back.

[She was such a fat baby, too. So dense despite her short stature, and he can still remember grunting and complaining as he'd hauled her to and fro. Fenris pauses for a moment, his eyes lingering on the word studies, and then adds:]

I will answer your questions about studies and sleep and play, but first, answer me this. What do you imagine it was like, when you think of my childhood?