#bluestringpuppeteer : 1

[fangsanddaggers]

Corpses Shouldn't be Hungry ||@bluestringpuppeteer||

A week.

At least, Astarion thinks it's been a week since he's been here, delirious now with hunger. He was sure this was the path towards his home, trying what seemed to be a shortcut, wanting to stick to alleyways and avoid being seen in this pathetic state.

He had some dignity left.

That is until the world turned abruptly, his body swaying only for his elegance to fall flat, head clocking the dark green dumpster. He grunts as his body hits the ground next to it, just shy of hitting a puddle of filth.

He lays there, eyes shut as pain rocks through him, hunger pulsing through fangs and fingertips until he's fighting back frantic sobs.

I'll rest a moment before I get back up. Just a short rest and I can keep moving. I am stronger than my hunger. Granted, he'd have had something somewhat substantial by now recently, he's used to it for two hundred years.

Just a short rest and he'll feel better, he's sure of it.

[windfavord]

It's somewhat nice, to have someone to escape the cameras and stylists with to go get something to drink and have a relaxing afternoon-- of course, "relaxing afternoon" to Kunimitsu might be a little different than what most think of, since most people wouldn't consider studying for exams as relaxation. Still, he doesn't really have any friends-- at least none who are close enough to do things with. And while Legato might not be a friend, they're at least somewhat in the same boat.

However, the model's answer has Kunimitsu frowning, his delicate brows knitting together. "Oh," he says, his voice quiet, a little sad-- even though he's trying not to show too much pity, it's... difficult sometimes. "Well... I guess it isn't too late to learn, right?" he asks.

But then, the topic turns to his studies-- thankfully, or else Kunimitsu might make things awkward somehow. "I'm studying History and Aetherpology at the university downtown," he explains, fingers trailing along the spines of the books. "I'd like to have a better understanding of the world, you know? If I don't end up famous on the public eye, maybe I'll have a future as a researcher."

It's always good to have many options, he thinks. In case one falls through.

Feeling a little out of his depth, if only because it has been... a very long time, he thinks, since he's just gone to a restaurant casually with someone else, Legato simply trails after and pulls up a seat next to Kunimitsu. He tilts his head, trying to read the titles on the books out of curiosity. He's pretty sure he hadn't met anyone who was going to school, here or before, and frankly he's not too sure what anyone would study. What kinds of things did one learn in school?

"I'm afraid I don't know many. I never had the opportunity to learn games until recently, and I haven't seen the one who taught me in a while." All of which was true, in both versions of his story, since he hadn't seen Badou in a while. He thinks, perhaps, Midvalley might have taught him a card game or two a long time ago, but trying to pin that memory down caused a spike of pain.

"I didn't have much of a regular childhood," he hums, and reaches out to pick up a pack of cards with a big, bright Uno on the front. "What are you studying, if you don't mind me asking."

[enduringdevotion]

Whatever was going through the smaller man's mind was frayed, leaving him muted. First, warm. Second, a fluttering heart beat. Third, bright red ears. Fourth, he was just saved from looking like a moron.

However, it doesn't take time for him to click back into focus, head snapping to glare up at the man. How dare he! Like a matted mut the man puffs up, daring to get right up in the other's space and poke his chest.

"Now listen here, jackass. I didn't ask if you wanted flattery, I gave you fucking compliments." He grit his teeth, glaring up at the taller frame with no hint of the fear he'd once held for the man known as 'Legato Bluesummers'. "You may not fucking require shit, but you fucking deserve it, so shut up and accept that you're not aa monster. And that's coming from me." He turns, stalking ahead for a few steps before stopping, ears red.

"You coming? I don't know the place yet, bluebell." He looks back at the other, cocking a brow. "Or do I need to call Nai to pick you up, huh?" Though he still had his fears of the tendril wielding lunatic he saw in his own mind, if Legato was actually happy to feed humans, let alone him willingly, then- well...

How bad could he really be?

Legato's ears light up red, darkening as Wolfwood speaks. The psychic ducks his head so his bangs swing forward in an attempt to hide from the onslaught of praise, even as it makes something warm settle in his chest. It doesn't make sense, it shouldn't be as satisfying to hear such things as it is but it doesn't seem to matter. Logic doesn't apply to emotions after all and Legato should know with the amount of times he's attempted to use it lessen them.

Wolfwood is... not wrong. Food is one of the things he's best at and he enjoys and indeed it's won him more regard in these other worlds then anything else he'd attempted. Food made people happy, good food especially so. And who else would appreciate his paranoia about waste as much as someone who was in a similar situation.

Legato covers his face with one had as the younger man babbles about his good qualities in comparison to his world's Legato, only keeping a crack open to see through. It's the only reason he sees the pole Wolfwood is rapidly approaching and it's entirely instinct when he reaches out to snatch the man's sleeve and drags him into Legato's side long enough to get past it. Gods forbid he crack his head open so soon due to inattention.

"Watch where you walk, or you'll end up suffering for it. And stop babbling, I don't require the flattery." And if he liked it anyway, he wasn't about to admit it. His ears gave him away regardless.

[angelictragedy]

Knives watches the human slide forth with ease, despite everything clearly being different to him also, he moves with a clear confidence. It was beautiful to see on his precious human.

The thought makes him pause behind the other, startled as the man reads. Eyes trail over the figure, thinking over things one by one. It had been so long, so much has happened, and yet he finds his mind drifting to when they'd first met.

Legato was beautiful then, though never understanding the sick ideas of humanity. He'd never thought of him as deeply as he did when he'd lost the human, he'd died, and it was then that Knives knew he loved Legato with all his heart. Or what remained of it anyways.

He'd panicked at kindness, lashed out in fear, been so afraid to watch the man hurt, only to hurt him himself. Only to lead him to his death with some twisted, sick mindset.

Yet here he was, doting over him like some sort of mother hen, showing him a sort of love and adoration. Tending to his needs and guiding him to comforts he felt he didn't deserve. All within the span of perhaps an hour.

He was willing to be a comfort for the Plant. Willing to help and heal him when things were hard. He was patient with his greed for affection and touch and had long since dropped the title that drove him further from nurturing the love that desired to bloom.

He isn't aware of what he says to the other for food, or what even they were making. Only that they'd prepared a meal together, he'd happily watched his human eat and spoke briefly of little things, simply basking in one another's company.

It was late when he'd finally coaxed the well fed human to bed and promised to return shortly for the night, he just needed his things.

He needed his silly mug, he wasn't sure why, but he needed it.

The reaction to Conrad's name is odd. Legato knows of nothing the scientist had done that could have prompted such a vicious and visible recoiling. As far as Legato knew, he'd been with Knives since before Legato himself and had never failed him. More information from later then his own memories went then.

He silently marks it and moves on.

Legato can't help the little chuckle when Kbives admits he is in over his head. Nothing looks familiar to him either, all the packaging different from what he's come to know, but most of them have pictures at least and labels he can read. He can work with this, they can work with this.

"Too many new and fantastic things to investigate?" He asks with a smile so different from his most recent manic and dangerous grins in Knives' memory. "Perhaps we can simply begin with something simple. Spaghetti, perhaps? I'll make a list of everything here and likely reorganize it more to my liking. Then I'll know what we already have and what needs to be procured."

Legato steps forward and starts shuffling through things, reading labels and humming to himself.

"Do you have something you prefer to eat? I will, of course, eat whatever is made. As long as nothing goes to waste I will be happy."

[duel-king]

Seto's a bit taken aback when Legato reaches for his phone, fretting over Mimi's disappearance. Part of him is irked by how his housemate apparently feels welcome to mess with his stuff without permission, but another part of him is oddly entertained by his peculiar behavior.

"It's... She's fine. Just needs a nap." If one thing has become clear to him from these introductions, it's that Legato doesn't hold his fellow man in very high regard. Which Kaiba gets, but Mimi is just an AI assistant program on this crappy phone. It doesn't have feelings, or anything else for that matter, to hurt; but commenting on it further would only be a waste of time, he determines.

"Duly noted. Just don't touch my things--" he says icily, looking Legato dead in the eyes as he snatches the phone (that's now so hot to the touch he's surprised that it's not melting) from where he'd left it.

"--And don't pry into my business--" he gathers his coat from the chair it was resting on, then sets off down the hall to find his room, turning back to his housemate briefly to finish his thought.

"--And I'll have no reason to torment you." A smirk creeps its way back onto his face. "Now, if you'd excuse me..."

Well that seems to have wiped away the other man's smug, superior attitude. Legato smiles in grim satisfaction, even as the Livio and Vash shaped bits of what might be a conscience scold him mightily. Just because he can inflict grievous bodily harm doesn't necessarily mean he will but he will not suffer a snooty high born making fun of his powers and calling them a shortcut. Not when he'd struggled and bled and clawed for them in an effort to save himself. Even when it failed.

Mimi winks out and the ominous smile vanishes, brows drawing together in confusion that turns quickly toward anger.

"She's gone, what did you do to her? I'd hardly be a threat to her, she's not human." He reaches to pick up Kaiba's phone and clicks the button to turn it on, as if he's going to find Mimi himself. When nothing happens, the confusion and anger clears away. "Ah, she relies on the battery. I hope your phone dying doesn't hurt her, I'd be extremely angry if your use of her is detrimental to her." He slides the phone back and huffs.

"I'll not do anything to you unless you continue to be irritating and dismissive. I will not be brushed aside so easily." Vash would probably kick his ass if he found out Legato had killed his housemate and Knives might be disappointed in him for not controlling his temper. One of these was infinitely worse.

[hopelantics]

Nicholas had been walking around the streets of the small town for what felt like hours. Bars, small shops, the library too, he’d taken to anything he could to keep himself occupied on this not particularly eventful day. With enough distraction it had slowly eased into evening. Now, tired with legs that were sore out of his mind his only plans for the rest of the night had been to go home and settle into his bed. Maybe some stargazing too if he felt like climbing those damned ladders. Probably not.

It’s funny how plans can change so quickly. And how emotions switched sides. From confronting Knives to sobbing in his arms and worse. From angry to desperate.

And now to hating Legato yet protecting him from harm despite that. Now from calm to angry. Protective.

He’d just barely overheard the discomfort of his voice and the slurs of clearly drunken men when passing by, but Legato’s distinct ‘leave me alone’ made him stop in his tracks without so as much as a thought. From then on every aspect of their surroundings made him understand what would occur if he didn’t step in.

The thick stench of alcohol, the lack of others to help, the fact they were slowly but surely trying to force the blue-haired man into an ally.

He didn’t have much, but a metal pipe lying on the side of the road would have to do. For an improv weapon, it certainly wasn’t bad. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.

Oh well.

Hauling the thing over his shoulder he proceeded towards the group, whacking it against the wall as hard as he could to get their attention. Hopefully, with how loud it had echoed through the ally they’d understand his intentions. But, to assure them his threat was genuine, he spit on the ground after tilting his shades down.

“I suggest you guys get out of here unless you want some metal to give you an impromptu dentist appointment. The choice is yers, boys.”

Perhaps Legato had gotten too comfortable here in this place. It was easy to forget, when he was surrounded by an environment so different than what he'd known all his life, that humans were the same at their cores. People were people, and for all the people that were apparently decent, there were just as many that were decidedly not.

"Hey hey hey sweetheart! Where are you goin'?" Drunk men were the worst, spilling away from the front of the bar Legato is walking past. He's not the only one either, several more men following the first.

The hair on the back of Legato's neck stands up and he tries walking faster to avoid them, to no avail. The group of men trot to catch up, swaying and smelling strongly of booze.

"C'mon pretty thin', don't you wanna hang out wit' us?" The men crowd and Legato's attempts to sidestep them only end up cornering himself against a wall. A flash of fear trips down his spine and he hisses, drawing himself up to try and be intimidating.

"I am not interested, leave me alone." The men chuckle and crowd in closer.

"Playin' hard t' get, eh? C'mon we'll treat ya real nice." He darts forward, trying to simply break past them before things devolved further. It doesn't work, hands closing on his thick winter coat and throwing him back against the wall before he can clear the ring. It's difficult to think, through the surge of panic in his veins. Yes, Nico had taught him how to defend himself and he could throw a punch without breaking his hand. But there are too many of them and only one of him and he's liable to get himself in more trouble trying to defend himself than not.

Wide gold eyes dart around the street, looking for anyone who might be able and willing to help him. There's only one figure there and Legato meets their eyes in a silent plea for assistance-

Only for the hope on his face to die immediately.

It's Wolfwood, not the one who'd adopted him but his own, who would most likely prefer to see him dead. The likelihood of assistance coming from that direction is minimal at best. Legato drops his gaze, trying to find the willpower to swing at the men tugging on his jacket even as he flinches away from their touch. Hopefully they only want to manhandle him a bit and they lose interest quickly and he can run home and hide in Nai's wings where no one else can touch him. Without his powers, it's the best he can hope for.

@hopelantics

[windfavord]

Kunimitsu is blessed with the ability to eat whatever he wants without ever gaining weight-- at least, that's what he thinks. He can't really remember worrying about his diet, and no one has ever said anything about it. It's a good thing, too, considering the near-insatiable sweet tooth he'd gotten from his mother.

Once inside, he goes over to the ordering kiosk and orders a taro milk tea for himself and mango for Legato, swiping the card and glancing at the order number before motioning toward a corner seat next to a shelf with a few board games and card games sitting on it for patrons to use. There are a few customers hanging out, sipping their drinks and chatting, and music plays quietly in the background-- altogether a comfortable, not-too-busy atmosphere.

"Do you have any games you like?" he asks as he opens up his backpack, depositing a small stack of textbooks and notebooks on the table next to him. "It'll be a few minutes for the drinks, so if you want we can play something while we wait."

Legato follows easily, slipping through the alleys after his guide with a sure stride. He's maybe not as adept at skulking through the shadows, but he's just as furtive and careful as they make their little escape.

The model doesn't carry a weapon, after all, why would he need such a thing? The lack makes his fingers twitch, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting.

It's nice to be back out on more open streets, better to be slipping into the cheerful little shop. At least it's warmer.

God, he can't wait for the heat of summer again and the familiarity of unending sun.

"Oh ho, far be it for me to turn down such a generous offer from a business partner," he smirks as he steps past and weaves up to the counter. Technically, he's not supposed to be eating a lot, or having too much sugar. He'll ruin his figure, and his agent will have a fit. But frankly, he doesn't care. Ideally, this situation will be resolved before he has the chance to become fat.

"Mango for me, please."

[windfavord]

There's always this fear in the back of Kunimitsu's mind, this fragility... the sense that at any moment, everything he has might fall to pieces.

The feeling that... he isn't supposed to have this.

It is an unpleasant feeling, to say the least, only made worse by the reccuring nightmares. One he tries to ignore as much as possible. He has enough to worry about as it is, let alone dwelling upon such baseless anxieties.

Either way, it's nice when the shoot wraps up and there's a moment for them to slip off. Kunimitsu nods his head. "Alright-- let's go then. I know a back way to get there."

That's something he's always been fairly good at, slipping through the shadows and avoiding the main thoroughfares. It's almost like he was some kind of shady character in a past life-- what a sharp contrast to the way things were now. He leads the way out of the studio, into a back street, indigo eyes darting to and fro to make sure they weren't being followed or walking into anything dangerous. Then, its a few blocks over, to a little milk tea shop on the corner with its happily-blinking sign.

"Here we are," Kunimitsu announces cheerfully. It's nice that it's cold out, so most people are wearing some sort of coat, hat, or hood-- he doubts his little 'incognito' disguise will work as well in the summer. Vaguely, he wonders how he managed last year-- Zephyr had debuted awhile ago, right? It was all a little fuzzy, like the time had passed in a blur-- too quickly for him to take it all in. "Order whatever you'd like, I'm using the agency's card," he says, a hint of mischief in his voice as he holds the door open.

It's funny, the photos that needed to be retaken look more accurate than the expression Kunimitsu wears more often. It makes him frown a little, trying to place the face more accurately but Legato has to give up; it seems that they simply didn't leave much of an impression on each other, if they did meet.

Ah well, it wasn't as though he knew everyone here, thank goodness.

Still, there's a quick flicker of concern when the other man sees the photos, wiped away in a flash. Does it make him remember?

Legato sighs, pulling his grey hoodie back on over the too flashy clothes he'd been stuffed in all day and weaving long hair in a quick, messy braid. At least he's not extremely well-known, eternally on the edge of a big break that never quite works out. Maddening, but really he'd rather have the anonymity.

"Yes, quickly before they decide to make us do something else." Unlikely, but there's always a possibility they'll find more work. It wasn't as though they were paid per hour after all.

[windfavord]

Kunimitsu glances up in surprise at the offered medicine, then raises his hand and shakes his head. "Oh, I'm alright," he insists. He's been having headaches lately-- migraines really-- but it's not anything too bad. He'll push through just fine...

To take something for it would be to admit that there really was a problem. Kunimitsu felt like he was balancing on a knife's edge enough already. He had those nightmares to thank for that.

"Ha, try performing in a crowded venue-- it's all that, but add dancing," he smirks now, headache starting to clear up a bit with the shift in conversation. "I'm not sure if you've seen any of our shows or music videos, but our first single has a 'traditional style meets modern' aesthetic. I hope I never have to dance in geta sandals again."

To be fair, it was this aesthetic that had launched Zephyr into the spotlight-- but Kunimitsu's feet had ached for what felt like weeks after the fact.

The call comes for them to return, and he hops up to his feet, all disdain and disgruntledness wiped away from his face in an instant, replaced by smiles and enthusiasm.

"Agreed-- now there's something to look forward to, at least," he says.

The rest of the shoot wraps up without issue. Fortunately, they don't need too many reshoots-- just a couple where Kunimitsu's clothes had shifted out of place, one where his expression seemed... off. A little bit too menacing, maybe... but just thinking about it too much sent shivers down his spine and an uncomfortable feeling gnawing in his gut.

Was that Kunikuzushi fellow even going to start appearing in photos now?

Either way, he shakes it off as he washes off his face once they're done, donning a hoodie, mask, and sunglasses. Zephyr had picked up a good number of fans since their debut-- he'd rather not deal with that. "Shall we head out?"

Those that should be familiar aren't, and those that aren't familiar should be, and Legato has a difficult time telling which should be which in this version of the world. Even if they didn't know each other, it's not out of the question that he'd seen the other man in passing, though spending more than a moment trying to place him was causing a sharp pain in his temple. No, that was unwise at best, either he would remember for sure or not. He disregards it, one eye squinted slightly as he waits for the throb to ease.

It seems he's not the only one. Maybe someone else can remember, if only they can push past the pain of it.

Humming slightly, Legato reaches for his hoodie and pulls a bottle of headache pills out of the pocket. Two for him, and he holds the bottle out to his current coworker.

"Be grateful this is not a fashion walk. The lights, the cameras, the people yelling, the horrible, terrible, awful shoes..." He smiles wryly. "You'd have far more than just a headache with all of that."

There's a brief hesitation, but this version of Legato Bluesummers has little reason to cringe from physical contact, especially something as simple as a handshake. He accepts it and shakes.

"Legato Bluesummers. That doesn't sound so bad. At the least, it would be a nice break and an excuse not to be stuck here, standing around and looking pretty while our managers argue, I mean negotiate." Eyes roll in clear dislike of that prospect, but when the photographers call them back he wipes his distaste from his face and stands gracefully.

"Let's get this finished, shall we?"

[enduringdevotion]

Nicholas eagerly lights, taking a long, deep drag to calm his nerves, ease his mind and prepare himself for rejection. He'd have to do cop work, maybe throw himself into hauling things like he dreaded. Maybe Astarion could train him with clothes. Or the old man will take him on as the new newbie?

I'll teach you.

The words snap him from his dreaded thoughts, head jerking over to look at the man with wide eyes. Did he hear him right? His face lights up, twisting to face the man as he walks backwards with no care that he might run into something.

"Are you kiddin'? Of course I'm sure! Your food is like paradise! Or at least what the freaks back home babbled on about. The feeling of warmth and peace, to feel cared for and cherished, I want to learn to make stuff like that too! Shove it in the old man's face and make him cry." He grins wide, smoke escaping the corner of his lips away from the other. "I'm not good with words, but food? Food speaks to people, especially those of us from No Man's!"

It was true, food was a rarity, especially in this quality. To use ingredients like this would spell a story of care and love, he could only imagine what could be done if he had a whole day- no, two days!

"Besides, you're not like blue bitch, you're actually kinda thoughtful, and calm and-" as he babbles on, his pace has him walking right in the path of a light pole, oblivious to it's existence as he moves.

"Astarion? He did?" Legato twists his fingers into the fabric in his arms, fabric Astarion had sewn for him. Something less aggressive for interacting with others but thick enough to weigh on him and provide defense from unwanted touches.

Just another example of the care the vampire gave him, more that he didn't deserve but craved with an intensity only comparable to being starved. And here again, handing him another opportunity without even needing to be present for it.

"Mmm? Oh, I've never minded." He waves a hand at the cigarette, still trying to work through all the emotional whiplash of the last few moments. Naturally, the consideration only adds to the pile.

"I'll teach you, if you truly want to learn from me. You are... sure?" Sure about wanting him, sure about spending so much time together, sure about his decision not to simply put a bullet between Legato's eyes. Frankly, the psychic doesn't know what emotion he's experiencing right now, too much of a muddled mix to make anything out at all. It's... not bad though. There's no negative emotion mixed in there, no fear or hate or anything else. Just... he doesn't know how to feel or how to react besides accepting.

[enduringdevotion]

Nicholas felt a spark of pride the moment he saw the look of shock. One question was enough to knock an alternate world version of his abuser on his ass. It was delightful, a sense of power with it, but it wasn't something he bathed in maliciously. In fact, it only furthered the effort to prove to him, at least this one, was very much human.

"Well, da-er... Astarion did say you might teach me if I asked. The old man was wary about it but he trusts Fangs. I have evidence you're amazing at it and it's better than eating bugs that yap at me as I crunch them." Zazie loved to disturb him in his starvation, though it was more the bugs demanding to be eaten because they could smell his pitiful hunger.

How irritating, someone caring about him. Eugh.

"But, I suppose you're right. It's not like I have any idea what I'm doing with cooking. I'd probably set the place on fire in any attempt." He looked away, adjusting his shades to hide the disappointment behind their reflective glint, finally caving as he pulled out the packet of cigarettes, pausing on lighting it. "You mind?" He motions to the item between his lips, clearly offering to not smoke if the other was uncomfortable.

He was showing consideration to the man who shared a name with his tormentor. How strange.

Wolfwood... looks like him. In that moment, when the smaller male looks up and meets his eyes, seeing that empty look, Legato only sees a reflection of his own face. It's unnerving, a little, because he's not sure he wants to think of Wolfwood having the ability to look like him in any capacity and what that means for his past and possibly his present. He doesn't like it.

He also doesn't leave the other alone, leading him out of the cafe and carefully guiding him along the street without a word while he sorts himself out. Eventually he'll come back.

And he does, though the topic of conversation, presented as if their conversation had indeed never paused at all, is a strange one.

"I... am unsure. I have never thought to ask before." Legato blinks, plays the question back in context of everything before it. "Are you... asking me to teach you?" Now he sounds truly bewildered, completely off-guard, without any of the careful distance in his tone and bearing. Without his coat on, still draped over his arm, and wearing a completely befuddled expression, he looks and sounds like he might be a real, actual person underneath all the layers of horror he's built up around himself.

"There is an adventurer's guild, they deal with a myriad of situations and work with the police fairly often..." He offers, still sounding entirely taken off-guard. He doesn't know what to do with someone, especially from a version of Noman's Land, who wants to spend time around him.

[windfavord]

It really could be anywhere. After all, they're both in the public eye, aren't they? Magazines, billboards... they're both rather unique-looking, so familiarity wouldn't be a surprise.

Still, why does it nag at the back of Kunimitsu's mind, the same way his nighmares do, inducing the fuzziness and the dull ache that he's come to attribute to lack of sleep?

"Probably something like that," he says, sighing as he reaches up to press two fingers against his temple.

He's more and more tired now, every day that goes by. The nightmares are relentless, the countless paths toward failure, toward losing everything, that strange, shadowy version of himself that destroys everything he touches like a consuming blaze...

Kunimitsu sighs. "I hope the photos turned out alright. The lights really get annoying after awhile, don't they?"

Last time he'd done a photoshoot, they had to retake half the photos since his eyes had ended up closed during the flash. Ridiculous and embarrassing-- he'd tried to focus harder this time, especially since it was an external collaboration.

The break will be over soon, there will be another session of photos taken, and then the managers will do the final negotiations-- at least that's not something Kunimitsu has to worry about himself. "Raiden Kunimitsu, by the way," he says, sticking out his hand. "You said you don't have anything after this, right? Why don't you come with me to get milk tea? There's a good place not too far away. I have to study, but I'll at least buy you something," he offers. A smile returns to his face, more relaxed and genuine this time. "Consider it as making up for this morning."

He doesn't really have friends, after all, despite being a fairly sociable person-- neither the other members of Zephyr or his classmates have ever gotten close to him. It could be nice to actually spend time with someone who isn't his mother, for once.

Legato is pretty much ready to go as it is, having been here long enough beforehand to be prepped. Someone comes over to fuss over his hair, which he'd disturbed, but mostly, he just fiddles with his phone while he waits. Midvalley's sent him another photo of a cat he'd met, and it calms him a little bit, at least enough to breathe through the shoot.

Clearly, they were matched for their similar appearances. The idol could have been a short haired version of his younger self. He certainly captured the charm that had been hammered into Legato as a survival instinct. The model matches the younger's energy, half an ear on the murmurs of the photographers while he focuses on reading his partner.

It's too hot in here, and there is a tension headache blooming between his brows.

At least he's not the only one suffering here, though the flicker of the mask slipping is brief. He allows a slight, sardonic smile to cross his lips. Not even the best can keep up an act forever. Eventually, something will break, right? It has to.

"Perhaps..." A look sweeps from the young man's head to his feet, wondering where Legato could place him. Vaguely familiar, but... Before or now? The tension headache pulsed harder, earning a wince. Before, then.

"I believe we may have seen each other in passing," he says carefully, massaging his temple. "Though I can not place you either. Or say when it was. You ought to stand out."

[fangsanddaggers]

The offering is not taken lightly. The elf leaned in, carefully cupping the hand just long enough for fangs to return to the same holes. He then released the other, eyes falling shut as he continued to feed, vocals and touch in check.

It's nearing half an hour of a slow, gradual drain that he finally stops, feeling the blood thinning. He clamps a gauze over the wound rather than licking as his instincts demanded, gently wrapping the wound for the other.

He then moves, preparing something for the other to eat, water given and remains with Legato until he was sure the other was safe. With another murmur of gratitude, he finally left, slinking back toward his home. Guilt wasn't unfamiliar to him, but it felt lesser this time, knowing they'd laid themselves out bare for the most part, bonded over it all.

He knew Legato and in turn, Legato knew him. They felt safer together, relaxed as they moved peacefully along in what was needed. He felt better now, like he could hunt again, his body thrumming with vibrant energy.

He would not forget this.

Legato is quick to wave off the apology. No harm no foul, just a twitchy human with issues about being touched, much as he simultaneously craved it. Just... with very particular people. Like, two people.

Legato waits patiently while Astarion evaluates himself and how he feels. The human is quite sure the vampire is still very near the edge of starvation and would be absolutely loathe to let him leave without feeding at least a little more. But he waits this time, keeps still and quiet. It's only when he agrees that Legato sits up and smiles slightly.

"I am still willing. I know my body and what I can handle, I won't simply let you drain me past the point I can take it. Knives would be upset when he comes home if I did that." Still so little regard for his own self, only for the distress his suffering would cause to others.

He unwinds the bandage from his wrist and holds it out again. It'll be bruised from all this later but it doesn't really bother him at all.

[enduringdevotion]

So it seems he's been in one of these places before as he said. He hasn't seen another him yet so there's that. On top of that, there's the level of desire the other covertly shows to connect with the young wolf. At least, that was what he himself was gathering.

He wonders if it's because of Vash that he cares.

It should have been blondie here, not me. It's not the first time he's thought such things. To long for contact, to ache for the fact he got the second chance and not his vibrant star.

Then he was left to his own devices. Time ticked by with the wolf falling deeper and deeper into his own mind, eyes growing emptier by the minute. When the other returned, he didn't show that snark and bite, just a blank, empty mask. He stands without comment on the question of moving, nodding as hands slip into his jacket, still chewing on a lolipop stick, if only to bite the need for a cigarette.

Where does he start? His past? The present? His hopes for the future? This was Legato, this was the man Astarion said could teach him to cook. He had the evidence of how amazing a chef he is.

"Are they accepting apprentices here?" It comes out of his mouth before he'd even been made aware they were outside and moving down the street, seemingly blinking back to himself with a huff. "The old man says I need a job. Doesn't seem to be much bounty hunting work here, nor a genocidal cult to cull, so I'm kind of shit out of luck on skills." True, he could hunt for the butcher, maybe put his muscles to use in a mine or maybe to lug things around, but he knows with his weakened strength as it was, he was likely to over do it and injure himself.

Plus, none of it sounded as interesting as cooking.

Legato cocks his head slightly and shrugs, a carefully neutral expression on his face.

"I don't know what you did or didn't do. I never knew Wolfwood until he joined the Gung-Ho Guns as Chapel. The fact that you knew your Legato so much earlier means I have little ability to relate to your interactions." He pauses, frowns, glances away.

"When I met my version of you for the first time in the other world, he very nearly killed me. I suspect he only didn't out of respect for Vash. I left with a concussion anyway, when my last memory of him from home was our first meeting, as allies." He sighs and tucks his bento under his arm.

"If you are still here when I am done, we can go somewhere else to speak further." With that, he tips his head and turns to head back to the kitchen.

He doesn't expect Wolfwood to still be sitting there when he comes out again, his uniform over one arm and his usual white coat over the other. A slow blink with eyebrows raised is all the surprise he allows himself to show when the smaller man is indeed, still there, but he looks faintly pleased nonetheless.

"Ah. You're still here. Very well, shall we walk?"

[fangsanddaggers]

Astarion notes the tension, sitting back up quickly with a sheepish apology slipping from his lips, clearly having forgotten for a moment whom he was with. Though he had enough awareness not to touch, he'd gotten too close.

He silently scolded himself.

The Spawn takes stock of himself. Feels the shakes calmed and his mind far clearer. He adjusts himself into a polite position, takin a breath before nodding.

"I am in complete control. I feel so anyways. If you are willing to try, as am I. But please, tell me before it becomes too much, I'm still learning safe levels with people." Truth be told, Legato was the first to offer himself willingly.

Whilst he was thankful his companions didn't kill him, they also didn't exactly let him drink, rather just had a lot of time with fighting to get a snack in here and there. Usually putrid goblins or sickly creatures, but all the same.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, not even surprised to find the sentiment is genuine. He's already decided he likes Astarion, a nonhuman so very much like himself. He's not thinking yet of the greater implications of there being nonhumans with the same sort of troubles as humans, of them not being so very different after all. The base idea tickles his mind but its far too early for him to give in to considerations that will truly alter his worldview so completely.

Let him hide in his fears and delusions a little while longer.

The human blinks at the sound of Astarion's stomach, a small smile finding its way to his lips, though it twitches with the sudden proximity of his houseguest. He can't help the sudden tense, nor the slight relaxing of his shoulders as he's not actually touched.

He likes Astarion, but not quite that much yet.

"Alas, we are neither Plants nor flora and those are the only things I know of that do not eat. I suppose even those whose hearts do not beat must have some sustenance. If you are calm again and ready we can try again." He doesn't hold out his arm yet, only tilts his head. Less pushy and brash, more of an attempt to be actually helpful instead of causing more damage.

[fangsanddaggers]

Astarion listens, the speech of master had him curious, but he didn't want to pry. A master he chose but now chose not to call as such. He couldn't imagine ever calling Cazador anything but a mongrel, filth and any sort of horrid name behind his back.

Then again, he didn't choose the arrogant power hungry asshole.

Knives. That's the second time he's heard the name. The master-not-master then. How interesting.

He focuses again, barely clicking back into the world from the landscape the other had painted for him. He smiles, a sad sight but one he felt instinctive to mimic.

"I know my world. Beautiful and lush, tied to mangled plains of ash and brimstone, darting to the twisted horror of the Illithid world. It is... A mesh of planes of existence and life really." It was clear he didn't know where to start at first.

"But... Well, I was a slave kept to the dark for two hundred years, so... I missed quite a lot about the world's happenings. I only know things from whispers and books. I barely got a month of freedom there before I was pulled here, I think." Even then, he feels the world spinning whenever he tries to remember the very last thing before arriving here, so he's long since stopped trying.

"I don't know how my story plays out. But anywhere away from the Mind Flayers and Cazador has to be a better option." Even if it meant he was now as frighteningly alone as he had been.

His stomach made itself known again, earning a sheepish huff from the vampire.

"I'm really growing irritated with this hunger thing. why do we need to eat anyways? Why can't we just survive on air and water or something?" He complains, shifting to nearly flop on the other's shoulder, ending against the couch just shy as he adds to his dramatics.

Legato listens quietly, making short work of every bit of the pear besides the stem. Even that he briefly considers eating before dropping it on the coffee table and curling up, perhaps a little childishly, to listen.

Not that Astarion has much to say exactly. Legato frowns a little and tilts his head.

"You don't remember your world? How odd..." He lays his cheek on a knee and lets his focus drift.

"I come from a planet that is nothing but desert, barely inhabitable but for the tiniest section with temperatures that humans can survive. It is harsh and unforgiving and we were not meant to be there at all. But humanity endures, no matter how poorly or how terrible they have to be to do so. Destructive to everything around them and each other to get ahead even an inch. There are two suns and five moons and one native species with a hive mind and many stages of life that humans call the Worms. Their speaker worked for my... Ah. He was my Master, because I chose him and devoted myself to him but I no longer call him that. Anyway, the Worms called themself Zazie and they worked for Knives, last I remember being there. I wonder what happened to them..." He blinks and furrows his brows, then sighs.

"I know the way my story plays out there and I much prefer being here, in another world far removed. Things have a chance of changing here."