[She's genuinely surprised to get a message from Astarion. It takes her a good fifteen minutes to reply--not out of spite, but simply because she's not sure what to say.]
[For once, he doesn't bother to pretend. Doesn't lurk in secret and appear belatedly to affect a later arrival. Insted he just waits across the street, offering a small, awkward little wave when she emerges. He only crosses to her side after she's seen him.]
[Oh. As surprising as his text was, seeing him already in front of the house takes the cake. She watches him cross, wishing the street was wider so she'd have time to think of what to say.
Her heart has been so sore lately it leaves her slow and clumsy. She doesn't look happy, nor does she look upset. Just somewhere else, expression neutral.]
[He offers in a tone that's much lighter than he feels, but he doesn't manage a chuckle, and all he can muster is a hint of a grin. One that withers before her neutral expression.
He clears his throat and looks off down the street in the direction of the park.]
Shall we?
[He gestures, takes the first step, but it's all just a stall, isn't it?]
[Guilty is a good word for how she's felt of late. She can distract herself with people and new sights and experiences, but it's never quite thorough enough to wash the feeling away.
[Strange how the perfectly inevitable topic unsettles him, nearly blindsides him. He fumbles a little, walking in silence for a moment.]
Better than I...
[Expected. Thought. Assumed.]
...feared.
[For a moment he watches his feet walk. Then huffs a sigh, and forces out the entirely too blasé,] I've come to care about very few people in my life, and he's...
[But he can't really finish.] Well. The fact remains, I shouldn't have doubted you.
[It's an apology. It doesn't make her feel any better. He thought her capable of leaving Dion when injured. A thing she did do, once she scraped him off the floor. She called in someone else to take care of him, because they would only hurt one another, and she had to confront Clive about what he'd done.
She stares at the sidewalk ahead of them.]
I love Dion very much. He's one of the best people I've met.
[He deserved better from her. So, Astarion's reaction that night--she earned it, she thinks. He should doubt her, as should Dion, as should Clive.]
[How easily she says it. It only prolongs his silence in turn. Much as the latter is inarguable, the former is...]
Cazador beat me. [He hears himself saying, his tone wooden. The words bubbling up of their own volition.] Or he'd have one of his servents do it. It didn't matter. So long as I was beaten. So long as I screamed.
I thought -- [by the time he cuts himself off, his voice has become quite small. And thick. His eyes are distant, pointed off ahead of them.]
[Jill's feet slow to a stop. She'd bit her tongue until it bled, but it had been the children and women that made her break and submit to the Ironblood. Their screams. The sound still haunts her, even half a decade removed from her shackles. Some monsters are not so easily killed.
She thinks of Clive and his fury and how he too was a slave. She thinks of Dion, and the unbruised knuckles that did not attempt to fight back. She thinks of Astarion, and what his scream must sound like.]
You care for him, and I'm glad. For all that you've endured, you've kept your heart.
[She's sure there's more to his torment. There always is.]
[He laughs at that, a hollow little thing. He'd kept his heart? He shuffles to a stop as well.
How many Dions had he lead to that mansion? How many Jills had he condemned to Cazador's hunger? How many decades ago had he stopped counting. Stopped resisting.]
I don't ever want you to hurt like that.
[He says quietly, but firmly, red eyes fixing on her again, directly. Unflinchingly.]
[Jill's confusion doesn't exactly surprise him. He had thought, in the beginning, that if he behaved well enough he could be safe himself. Still, something about his eyes harden.]
If he even raises a hand to you...
[He doesn't finish. Doesn't think he needs to. What's a little more blood on his hands, after all? He had already drowned in it.]
[The realization of what he means hits Jill like a truck. Her eyes widen, and she's momentarily taken aback.]
You mean--Clive? [She almost laughs, but (thankfully) does not. She's never heard anything more absurd. Clive may hurt her feelings and break her heart, but he would never strike her. He treats her like glass, much to her dismay.]
He would sooner run himself through with his own blade.
[His expression merely tightens. It's not in him to make the argument, or try to convince her. She'll only believe what she's willing to, and he isn't finished making his point.]
[Jill is fairly certain Clive's fist would go through Astarion's face. Her lips press together in line, refusing to let the remark escape. Refusing to allow herself to be hurt by the implication: that she didn't care to say as much.]
I spoke to Clive about what he did.
[And knocked the wind out of their healing relationship.]
He and Dion have a complicated history. Clive has no wish to be near him.
[This would be so much simpler if he didn't care. If he had been able to maintain his distance. If he hadn't found the heart she thought he kept.
The irony galls him, to be honest. To be so incensed at a man who merely hurt when he hinself had been little more than an instrument of undeserved death for so long.
His lips purse, but he doesn't know how to say this in any way that isn't cruel. even as he softens his voice. Even as his eyes drop away from her. He looks toward the park, and wonders if they'll ever get there.]
My dear, it's only because you're in love with him that I'm willing to grant the man any grace at all.
[He snorts, finally, forcing out.] I don't care about Clive. I care about you.
[He's not allowed to say that. It melts some of the growing frost from Jill, and she lets it out with a soft sigh. All of this, even that awful night, stems out of care. No one wished to see Joshua hurt. So Dion told him the truth. Clive thought keeping the truth to himself would delay Joshua's hurt and his own. And Jill hurts because she loves them all so much she doesn't know what to do.]
Clive saved me from my captors. Saved me from giving up my life, and saved me many times since. He was made a slave in the army for the kingdom Dion's father ruled, and before that, I daresay he was one for the Rosarian duchy.
[So no wonder he bristled and snapped when what Dion did was perceived as one more Imperial commanding how he lived. No wonder he could only see red when Joshua, the person he lived to protect, was hurt.]
None of it was right, but Clive carries the wounds of serving a master as we do. He is a good man that has been trying to pull himself back onto his feet.
[But she doubts Astarion will hear much of what she has to say. Clive has not left a good impression on many of the people she's come to care for.
A good thing the city is vast.
Jill takes another breath before her expression softens.]
You're a good man, too. I appreciate that you worry for me. It comes from a good place, I know. I don't take that for granted, Astarion.
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Is it?
[That's all she's come up with.]
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It is. Not to mention, you owe me for the drink. I had half a mind to finish it myself when you didn't show.
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[Easier to ghost than be rejected.]
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Might we talk in person, please?
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[She's not sure what this is.]
Where, exactly?
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I don't know. The park? Some restaurant somewhere. Wherever you're comfortable.
Just not here.
[He doesn't quite catch that last part before he sends it.]
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The park would be acceptable.
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I'll walk you.
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I'll be out front.
[And she's stepping out of the front door in the next five minutes, already dressed and doing nothing exciting but feeling sorry for herself.]
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Her heart has been so sore lately it leaves her slow and clumsy. She doesn't look happy, nor does she look upset. Just somewhere else, expression neutral.]
You were already here.
[Obviously.]
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[He offers in a tone that's much lighter than he feels, but he doesn't manage a chuckle, and all he can muster is a hint of a grin. One that withers before her neutral expression.
He clears his throat and looks off down the street in the direction of the park.]
Shall we?
[He gestures, takes the first step, but it's all just a stall, isn't it?]
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But she moves to follow him.]
How was he?
[Might as well get to it.]
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Better than I...
[Expected. Thought. Assumed.]
...feared.
[For a moment he watches his feet walk. Then huffs a sigh, and forces out the entirely too blasé,] I've come to care about very few people in my life, and he's...
[But he can't really finish.] Well. The fact remains, I shouldn't have doubted you.
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She stares at the sidewalk ahead of them.]
I love Dion very much. He's one of the best people I've met.
[He deserved better from her. So, Astarion's reaction that night--she earned it, she thinks. He should doubt her, as should Dion, as should Clive.]
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Cazador beat me. [He hears himself saying, his tone wooden. The words bubbling up of their own volition.] Or he'd have one of his servents do it. It didn't matter. So long as I was beaten. So long as I screamed.
I thought -- [by the time he cuts himself off, his voice has become quite small. And thick. His eyes are distant, pointed off ahead of them.]
I don't ever want him to hurt like that.
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She thinks of Clive and his fury and how he too was a slave. She thinks of Dion, and the unbruised knuckles that did not attempt to fight back. She thinks of Astarion, and what his scream must sound like.]
You care for him, and I'm glad. For all that you've endured, you've kept your heart.
[She's sure there's more to his torment. There always is.]
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How many Dions had he lead to that mansion? How many Jills had he condemned to Cazador's hunger? How many decades ago had he stopped counting. Stopped resisting.]
I don't ever want you to hurt like that.
[He says quietly, but firmly, red eyes fixing on her again, directly. Unflinchingly.]
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I've killed my master. My penance.
[Surely, that's what he means.]
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If he even raises a hand to you...
[He doesn't finish. Doesn't think he needs to. What's a little more blood on his hands, after all? He had already drowned in it.]
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You mean--Clive? [She almost laughs, but (thankfully) does not. She's never heard anything more absurd. Clive may hurt her feelings and break her heart, but he would never strike her. He treats her like glass, much to her dismay.]
He would sooner run himself through with his own blade.
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Or if he touches Dion again.
[Comes a hair sharper.]
I will not tolerate it.
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I spoke to Clive about what he did.
[And knocked the wind out of their healing relationship.]
He and Dion have a complicated history. Clive has no wish to be near him.
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The irony galls him, to be honest. To be so incensed at a man who merely hurt when he hinself had been little more than an instrument of undeserved death for so long.
His lips purse, but he doesn't know how to say this in any way that isn't cruel. even as he softens his voice. Even as his eyes drop away from her. He looks toward the park, and wonders if they'll ever get there.]
My dear, it's only because you're in love with him that I'm willing to grant the man any grace at all.
[He snorts, finally, forcing out.] I don't care about Clive. I care about you.
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Clive saved me from my captors. Saved me from giving up my life, and saved me many times since. He was made a slave in the army for the kingdom Dion's father ruled, and before that, I daresay he was one for the Rosarian duchy.
[So no wonder he bristled and snapped when what Dion did was perceived as one more Imperial commanding how he lived. No wonder he could only see red when Joshua, the person he lived to protect, was hurt.]
None of it was right, but Clive carries the wounds of serving a master as we do. He is a good man that has been trying to pull himself back onto his feet.
[But she doubts Astarion will hear much of what she has to say. Clive has not left a good impression on many of the people she's come to care for.
A good thing the city is vast.
Jill takes another breath before her expression softens.]
You're a good man, too. I appreciate that you worry for me. It comes from a good place, I know. I don't take that for granted, Astarion.
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