#bluestringpuppeteer th 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.

[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."

[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

[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.

[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."

[fangsanddaggers]

Astarion breathes, a slow and languid thing as he calms himself. Hands summon the dice from his pocket, rolling the two D20's around as he focused on their weight. His home, what could he talk about?

"Well.... Magic is normal, there is the Mind Flayers who put Illithid parasites in people's heads, I got some sort of special one for some reason. There's Harpies and sirens and beautiful forests. It's sort of a chaotic land beyond the major cities, but even they deal with insanity." He sighs, wondering for a moment if there was ever a peaceful moment.

"I was a Magistrate once. Damn good at my job before Cazador. Helped people escape situations I had once been in in my own youth." Only to end up in a far worse one in his elder years. "It's... Hard to find things to talk about. The only things clear in my mind was what had recently happened to me and my companions." A memory that stung.

He missed them, the ache of loneliness had begun to fade at their sides, only to be ripped open raw when he couldn't feel their worms anywhere near. Either they just hadn't showed up yet, or they will never arrive. Neither option was delightful, he wanted them here now.

Legato blinks and flushes self-consciously when attention is drawn to his devouring the fruit, swallowing his mouthful and attempting to restrain himself with the rest of it. As he does, he comes back to settle on the couch across from Astarion, more relaxed now that he's been reassured his help is not rejected just.... tempered.

"I see. I apologize. I rarely consider my own person in things like this and am often surprised when others do. It did not occur to me that you would be.... upset if you did hurt me." He's not quite sure why exactly but, well. He can understand the desire not to be a monster.

He's still working on that part. Every time he feels he might be stable something else tips him right back to the edge again.

Legato folds his legs and nibbles at the core of the pear, watching Astarion with clear curiosity.

"In that case, perhaps you might tell me a bit of your world, the other parts? If it will assist in focusing on other things? Or I could simply go do something else if that would be better?" He could always start on prepping dinner for when Knives got back. Even if it was only pulling out and prepping ingredients so the Plant could help him cook..

[enduringdevotion]

Wolfwood nearly laughed like a maniac at that, but instead he just gorlwed, leaning forward. "And you think I didn't try?" It's hissed, a clear sore spot before he slumped back, arms crossed sharply as he shoved himself in the corner to make it clear he wasn't going anywhere.

"Yeah, go back to work. I'll be here." It's not like he had much of anywhere to go. And he had promised Astarion if he ran into Legato, he'd at least try to build something.

Even if his very eyes had him wanting to scratch his skin off.

"We'll talk about shit later." He's pretty sure they'd let him bring someone into the back garden of the house, or wherever Legato wants to meet up. The idea of doing any more in public had him twitching. "Just... Not here where you work."

Legato almost loses his appetite. He frowns down at his food for several moments before sighing and continuing to eat. He's surprised Wolfwood is willing to tell him everything, or what seems to be close to it. He taps a finger on the table, considering for a moment before he glanced up at the clock on the wall. Not long enough for anything in-depth but... enough.

"If your Legato is like me, he grew up a slave. Authority for the first time in his life, especially such given by his angel, means he cannot fail. Failure is worse then death in his eyes, because death is a release from a world that is nothing but pain and suffering. Knives will end that suffering and so he'll follow Knives until the end of the world." He closes up his bento box, frowning down at it instead of looking up at Wolfwood.

"No one had ever reached out to me before your Vash did. Not in a way that mattered. I doubt anyone has for him either. Perhaps it's not... an excuse. But it is a reason. Everything I've ever done has had a reason and I am only capable of being different then I was because I have help." He stands, tilting his head at Wolfwood.

"I have to get back to work. If you would like to continue speaking, we can do so after my shift is over."

[fangsanddaggers]

Astarion knew he should have begged to be stabbed, it would be far less agonizing than this moment here. To think this would be an easy little chat for two broken people to have, ha!

He, however, remained on the couch as the other moved, hunching down to think, to try and organize the chaos of his own mind. Another who starved, he hates that starving.

Another who starved as a child and has died before. Their similarities were honestly beginning to frighten him. Was there anything he'd not suffered just as Astarion had?

Vampirism. Thank whatever Gods are listening, Vampirism is one thing the other hasn't suffered.

"You were very kind, I assure you. A bit rough on the edges, but I could see your concern clearly. It's just-" He pauses, a long heavy sigh leaving him before red eyes turned to gold, glowing unnaturally as brows pinched up.

"I don't want to be a monster. Killing you, even if it was on accident, would only prove that I am one. I'd ask for restraints to be put on me, but bar it being Infernal Iron, I cannot imagine it actually holding me." Shame fluttered over his features before he threw a hand through his hair and tugged.

"The best I can offer as a comparison is you devouring that pear, only it's me to your veins. It's why I'm forcing myself to have some sort of... Restraint. I'd rather not start a friendship off with tearing your throat out and being stabbed." Let alone whoever this Knives person the other spoke of might do to him.

"I want your help, I just... For my comfort, I needed a small break too."

Rejection stings, especially when he's trying so hard to be helpful and decent and its already hard for him to conceptualize those things. Being told he's not at all when he's making such an effort is neigh painful and he almost doesn't want to hear anything the other man has to say in case it hurts even worse.

But he'd want someone to listen to him and, indeed, there had been a few that had. So he tilts his head to show he's listening and stays quiet as Astarion speaks.

"I don't know how to make kindness transactional," he replies quietly, meekly even. "I hardly know how to offer it at all. I wasn't kind about attempting to force my aid on you, was I? I'm afraid I have very few examples to draw on." His fingers tighten around the bandage on his wrist. He's not sure how Livio, Vash, or his other missing friends would react to this situation and so has no reference upon which to draw.

"I wouldn't be angry if you did hurt me, the bite is hardly a scratch compared to what I've done to myself." He looks up with a smile that's more of a grimace and shrugs. "I've died before, in another world, and if this place works the same I'd hardly stay that way. Given it would be my own fault for being insistent, I could hardly go about blaming you." Legato sighs and drops the poor attempt at a smile, uncurling slightly to sit cross-legged instead.

"I spent the first fifteen-odd years of my life starving because it was easier to control a weak little pet then a properly fed boy. I don't appreciate seeing others starve anymore then I enjoy being hungry myself." And just talking about it is enough for him to abruptly stand and pace into the kitchen, snatching up a pear to devour without care for manners or subtlety.

[angelictragedy]

The name of the human causes a visible flinch from the Plant, his skin paling a touch but he forces whatever thoughts away from him, rejecting them all vehemently. Now was not the time to think of the wretched waste of life that acted like his father.

"Well, you have my interest in your cooking then." Knives purrs, peeling open cupboards until they were all open and stood back, looking across it all.

At a glance, nothing looked familiar. All the packaging was different, but the smells flooding his senses gave him ideas, thoughts.

"I'm suddenly realizing I am in under my depths. The packaging is all strange but I am sure I can work with it." He had to, it's been so long since he cooked, since they cooked. "I'd be more than content to go shopping. Though, I will need you at my side. I fear I'm atrocious at remaining on task when something strikes my interest."

That and if he passes donuts he might break down if left alone.

His Knives hadn't the faintest idea how to cook before Legato had instructed him. Is it possible that this place calls not only those from other times but maybe other worlds entirely? There had been the younger versions of some of them before, were there other iterations?

Did it matter? Knives was Knives wasn't he? And this one... Legato had been missed and wanted from the very beginning.

Without conscious thought, he'd woven his fingers with Knives', tugged along as his mind wandered to possibilities beyond their current existence. He's brought back to full attention by Knives asking his help in the kitchen, a smile breaking out over his face for it.

"Of course. Conrad taught me the basics and I enjoyed it so I kept learning. I find I'm rather good at it." Good at it and it helped ease his issues with food, knowing exactly what was available and what he could do with it.

"I haven't yet gone through everything they stocked for us but I'm sure a grocery run would be easy enough if there is something missing."

[enduringdevotion]

Wolfwood winced sharply at that, deciding to risk being sick instead of answering right away. As he chewed and swallowed he picked his words delicately.

"Conrad made the experiments. Made... Me. Looked like this since I was ten because of him. Elendira's a freak experiment of Knives' DNA, an attempt to make another Independant." Where does he even begin to explain the eye.

"Legato Bluesummers started the eye and was the leader of it. Conrad the trusted priest or whatever and Elendira the Angel used to trick people. I... I didn't get a choice. They tested all the kids in Hopeland to see if we matched something. I was the best match." He sighs, knowing there was no escaping talking about it all, might as well lay it all down.

"Livio didn't want to be apart from me. He was used to keep me compliant. Made a deal with them to protect Hopeland... Hope it sticks without me there." He'd been slowly killing every last one, but still. It was endless.

"So yeah, now you see why your name had me in terror when the old man mentioned a blue haired man around Knives-not-Spoons." He tries to shove the mounting terror aside, but it only becomes frustration. "Conrad adored his experiments. When they worked. I need vials of this blue shit to heal. Livio just... Did it, until-" Until he didn't.

He stabs the last poor cheesy potato and shoves it into his mouth, pain clear in his eyes behind his glasses though he growled to hide it.

"If I ever see any of those freaks again it's kill on fucking sight." it's snarled under his breath but held no less true. Knives, Conrad and Legato Bluesummers were going to die by his hand. "Any other questions?"

This tall one is fine though.

Legato hums and nods, recalling the delicate seeming make of the arm. Nothing like his own Vash, but then the younger one wasn't anything like his own Vash.

"I am nothing like who I was, so I am not surprised I am nothing like what you thought. It has been... at least a year since I was back on Noman's Land at this point." He busies himself with putting away the first aid kit, making sure it's arranged properly. "Nothing my Wolfwood or you have done has much of any bearing on what happened to Knives, there would be nothing to blame you for."

He sets the box off to the side and finally sets to eating his lunch, tilting his head as he listens to Wolfwood talk. Conrad is a strange name to hear from him and blue brows furrow in confusion.

"You didn't, I have a long enough break to still eat. They likely wouldn't let you work anyway, not unless you were getting paid. They are rather strict about those kinds of things." He eats a few more bites before he tilts his head curiously.

"Conrad's experiments? The man I knew made no experiments." Another thought occurs to him and he frowns. "Was he the originator of the Eye in your world? Tsk. Vile. If I paid too much attention to them, I might have slaughtered them all and Knives would not have appreciated that."

He can admit that much easily enough. Since becoming friends with Livio, he'd thought more about the Eye then ever before. He knows why he hadn't thought about them very often.

[fangsanddaggers]

Hearing the sudden change of the other broke his heart, worried now he'd done something horrible. He sighs, rubbing his face as the ravenous monster finally calmed within his chest, giving him time to think.

Perhaps not the best choice, as eyes flicking to the other's position only brought up his own past.

"Look... You don't need to be sorry." He takes another breath, shifting now to face the other on the couch, a respectable distance though he dares to touch his shoulder, leaning to try and capture his gaze.

"I appreciate the kindness, truly I do. But... Well, where I come from, Kindness always comes at a price, nothing is free." He hesitates, remembering the day he was turned, his free hand brushing the fang scars.

How much am I willing to tell him? He wonders, removing his hand suddenly as he realized what he'd done.

"I thought... I thought Cazador was kind by saving my life, only to later find out the whole attack was planned by him. then two hundred years of being under his thumb, I-" anger boils only to fade with another sigh.

"I'd been forced to bring back people for him to feed on... When he'd ask if I was hungry, stupid as I was starving, he'd give me a dead rat and feed from the person in front of me. I'd watch him become savage, knew how it felt to my own neck." He stops, mirroring the other but with one leg, resting his chin on the bent knee.

I've come this far, I may as well confide in this person as entirely as I can bare in one go. At least about the feeding. It was best to limit it to that, for his own mental state.

And his new... Friend?

"I'm afraid that's all I am, a monster ready to tear throats open at the first taste of blood. I've bitten a few in fights now, but none have tasted as sweet or as addictive as yours, and that terrified me. It's nothing you've done, just-" he pauses, looking away in shame as arms loop around his leg.

"I don't want to be like him. you've been so kind, the least I can do is contain myself into small bursts. Just in case." He won't mention how he'd seen a flash of the other's dead corpse beneath him with half his throat missing in the flash of a hungered frenzy he barely smothered down.

Legato stills, allows his arm to be pushed away and takes it back, pressing the bandage back into place. The human sits quietly, the irritation draining away to a quiet sort of emptiness and emotional exhaustion.

He's really not helping at all, is he?

"Alright. I'll stop." He holds his injured wrist close to his chest, head tilted to let his bangs fall over his eyes. He's upset the other man by being so insistent, scared him even. That hadn't been anywhere close to his intention and yet, here they were. He automatically brings his legs up to his chest and folds himself down to make himself small and unassuming, a subconscious effort to protect himself from the other's distress even if he didn't actually need to.

Clearly he's misstepped here and done so rather badly. His entire focus had been on the simple fact of the other man's starvation and he hadn't remotely considered that he may not want to bite a person at all. It ought to have been obvious from the start.

"I'm sorry. I wouldn't be angry if you did hurt me. It's not that bad." His voice is quiet and somewhat small, admonished. Entirely different from the demanding, irritable man of moments ago.