By some magic, or some curse, the little sparkles had spread throughout the entirety of the home. Glitter, as it was wont to do, had spread everywhere, covering every surface of the cottage. Astarion couldn't figure it out for the (un)life of him. There was glitter in places that should not have glitter.
Like inside the device known as the "microwave." What place were you thinking?
Astarion sneezed as he entered the cozy room that Tav had let him turn into a library, trying to wipe glitter off his shirt. This room was perhaps Astarion's favorite, except for his bedroom with its plush mattress and heavy curtains. It had been surprisingly nice to read in the deep couch to the sounds of Tav playing their lute. Looking up to see the half-drow, Astarion couldn't help but laugh in a mixture of genuine amusement and resignation to their current events. "Darling, you're sparkling. What is this shit?"
As far as annoying side-effects of Thirteen's various nonsense goes, the glitter is... probably one of the worst ones Tav has had to deal with. He is not a glitter sort of person at the best of times and doesn't appreciate finding it in his clothes along with everything else.
The moment he starts to find it in his food is when he's going to want to have a word with that fox, because he's not eating it even if he can.
Right now he is attempting to ignore the fine, glittery stuff that is getting into the house no matter how much he cleans or keeps the doors and windows shut. As if they hadn't had enough work to do cleaning the place back up after the Lore storm (and he's still annoyed that it made a mess of the garden), now he's got to put up with this as well?
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." His fingers move nimbly over the lute strings as he slides mismatched eyes in Astarion's direction. "You're looking rather sparkling yourself, sweetheart."
Astarion twirled, twinkling in the artificial light of the lamps. "I make this look good. Don't be jealous."
Was it ideal? Hardly. But it was still a relief to just be home, as messy (and sparkly) as the place was. Even if the garden was ruined... Even if the front door had been torn off, and some of the roofing had been stripped and damaged. Work needed to be done, for sure. But Astarion didn't have to worry about hiding from the sun here, or finding himself trapped outside. Here, Astarion had his room, his bed, his books, his... well, a situationship that was slowly transforming into "his" (other) Tav.
He wiped his shirt again, then tried to wipe and shake his hands, but all to no avail. "It's certainly persistent. Surely more of the Fox's foolishness. But, I suppose, it could be worse... all things considered." Between annoying sparkles and being completely uprooted, endangered, unhoused... If he had to pick, this was preferable.
"You could make anything look good, and you know it."
Tav had been doing his best to patch up the worst of the damage - and he had, of course, concentrated on making sure Astarion wouldn't have to worry about being stuck in a patch of sunlight first - but there was only so much he could do before he needed to take a well-earned break. Now was one of those times and with the current nonsense abound, what better time could there be?
He plucks out a couple more silvery notes on the lute and then sets it to one side, planting both of his feet down on the ground and looking at his companion with a crooked half-smile.
"Could be worse. Could be, hm..." Hmmmmmmmm. "I don't know. Pretend I said something clever."
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chiming
November Event for Tav: Glitter!
Date: 2024-11-27 03:01 am (UTC)From:Like inside the device known as the "microwave." What place were you thinking?
Astarion sneezed as he entered the cozy room that Tav had let him turn into a library, trying to wipe glitter off his shirt. This room was perhaps Astarion's favorite, except for his bedroom with its plush mattress and heavy curtains. It had been surprisingly nice to read in the deep couch to the sounds of Tav playing their lute. Looking up to see the half-drow, Astarion couldn't help but laugh in a mixture of genuine amusement and resignation to their current events. "Darling, you're sparkling. What is this shit?"
no subject
Date: 2024-12-01 04:17 pm (UTC)From:The moment he starts to find it in his food is when he's going to want to have a word with that fox, because he's not eating it even if he can.
Right now he is attempting to ignore the fine, glittery stuff that is getting into the house no matter how much he cleans or keeps the doors and windows shut. As if they hadn't had enough work to do cleaning the place back up after the Lore storm (and he's still annoyed that it made a mess of the garden), now he's got to put up with this as well?
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." His fingers move nimbly over the lute strings as he slides mismatched eyes in Astarion's direction. "You're looking rather sparkling yourself, sweetheart."
no subject
Date: 2025-01-08 03:34 am (UTC)From:Was it ideal? Hardly. But it was still a relief to just be home, as messy (and sparkly) as the place was. Even if the garden was ruined... Even if the front door had been torn off, and some of the roofing had been stripped and damaged. Work needed to be done, for sure. But Astarion didn't have to worry about hiding from the sun here, or finding himself trapped outside. Here, Astarion had his room, his bed, his books, his... well, a situationship that was slowly transforming into "his" (other) Tav.
He wiped his shirt again, then tried to wipe and shake his hands, but all to no avail. "It's certainly persistent. Surely more of the Fox's foolishness. But, I suppose, it could be worse... all things considered." Between annoying sparkles and being completely uprooted, endangered, unhoused... If he had to pick, this was preferable.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-13 03:58 am (UTC)From:Tav had been doing his best to patch up the worst of the damage - and he had, of course, concentrated on making sure Astarion wouldn't have to worry about being stuck in a patch of sunlight first - but there was only so much he could do before he needed to take a well-earned break. Now was one of those times and with the current nonsense abound, what better time could there be?
He plucks out a couple more silvery notes on the lute and then sets it to one side, planting both of his feet down on the ground and looking at his companion with a crooked half-smile.
"Could be worse. Could be, hm..." Hmmmmmmmm. "I don't know. Pretend I said something clever."