audience: astarion

[mygod]

Comments

[mygod]

There is a dog here.

[ so... no ]

[haematocritical]

...

I do know a dog I would considered at least more tolerable than a number of people.

[ sweet scratch. ]

[mygod]

This dog also counts.

[ pickles good ]

[haematocritical]

[ pickles is the most valid creature here, yes. ]

...




[ ... ]

Did Gale yap your ear off about the Absolute?

[mygod]

No. Are you taking that as an invitation to start?

[haematocritical]

Absolutely not.

[mygod]

Then I will continue to live in uninterested ignorance.

[haematocritical]

Until Gale does actually come to yap at you, yes.

[mygod]

As long as we don't talk about soup.

[haematocritical]

[ gazes at the sky. ]

I will not talk about soup, no.

[mygod]

I was referencing your companion, but it's true that I'd rather avoid the topic altogether. It's not that interesting.

Did you come to ask any actual worthwhile questions, or just pointless complaints?

[haematocritical]

[ no, this is pointless land. ]

I would think we all had plenty of room for complaining, all things considered. But I suppose I am curious about the "rooming", for lack of a better word.

You or your overlords managed to get plaques put together rather quickly.

[mygod]

I don't have to be here to listen to you complain.

[ do that on your own hours....

similarly, dryly: ]

Yes. We did those plaques by hand. Thank Death for their painstaking hard work. They got multiple blisters.

[haematocritical]

[ everyone must listen to him complain because it’s funny. shoves him over. ]

…

[ gazes. ]

And you just threw names wherever you felt like?

[mygod]

[ that was sarcasm the first time but if it wasn’t clear enough then famine’s voice is as dry as the desert when they answer: ]

Yes. Just the funniest options really.

[haematocritical]

[ yes he guessed ]

Well, ha ha then.

Truly though. Did they just appear?

[mygod]

The entire village is rooted in magic. I presume that the rest of it just warped to accommodate your presence.

It does make it easier for us, in some ways.

[haematocritical]

Less of us running around outside in the dark for you to trip over? [ bundle them into their sad little blood caves and let them sulk there. ]

There's no way to... unlock that magic? Route it so it unlocks our own?

[mygod]

No, that can still happen. It's more about the deliveries.

[ mailboxes are more efficient ]

I'm not the magic expert, but I'll pass on your curiosities to War and see if they have any sudden epiphanies from it.

[haematocritical]

[ hmm. ] Where are you even finding these deliveries, anyway? What's the limitation?

[ mailboxes... their cute little suburban mortuary. ]

If something can worked out, then by all means. Magic not in someone else's hands never did me any harm.

[mygod]

We make orders with the assistance of our housekeeper. There's forty of you, so don't dream for anything too grand.

[ so many orders... as for the rest, they shrug ]

Like I said. Take it up with War.

[haematocritical]

... There's a housekeeper here?

[ why is everything. so dusty. ]

[mygod]

Our housekeeper.

Not yours.

[haematocritical]

[ this is so unfair. ]

We have so much dirt.

[mygod]

I understand that.

But I am curious as to why so many of you are under the impression that every last luxury would be given to you as sacrifices.