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« how many lives you plannin’ on ruinin’? »

Don’t Starve starters - part 2

Funny question. Anne lowers her gaze to the table to consider it, but lets herself think aloud. It doesn’t matter what Mary does or doesn’t hear from her anymore; that ship has long since sailed.

“Huh. I don’t plan on ruinin’ any lives other than my own—maybe an ex or two’s—but that don’t mean I won’t ruin others, I s’pose. I imagine ye’ve ruined a fair few more.”

@estarion

Anne flit between dream and meditation fitfully, as she did more nights than not: even before the leech in her brain, peaceful sleep had eluded her grasp at every turn. Its gross, wiggling presence certainly didn’t make sleep any easier. Despite all of this, and every other warning sign in the night, it was base need and base need alone which finally dragged Anne back into the waking world. If she ignored the issue much longer, it was going to manifest, with or without her blessing.

Anne turned onto her side and fished for the dagger she kept under her pillow, only changing the unnatural brightness of the dying fire’s glow after she had it in hand. Between the fire and the glare of the full moon, she elected to do without another light, walking a short ways off into the woods. Wouldn’t do to attract unwanted animal visitors, after all, especially not to where they slept. She stopped nearby the short ditch instead, a ways off of where they made camp; it seemed a safe enough distance to her, though some might argue it was excessive.

Her hands stilled on the fastening of her trousers when a scuffle echoed up from the ditch. The nearby corpse of trees rattled with the sounds of it. The dagger was naked in her hand before Anne could blink, abandoning her chosen latrine plot to sneak up on the trees down the ditch instead. She slid down the short hill, staying low as she crept nearer the trees. When the young buck came galloping out, Anne dove to the side, barely missing being trampled by the wide-eyed beast. Even without knowing the habits of deer—and why would she, having been at sea all her life?—Anne could tell that whatever had scuffled with that deer was something mucking about with the natural order. In the dead of night like this, anything could be prowling about…but something big enough to tussle with a deer-sized opponent could certainly try tussling with an Anne-sized one, or some other in their company. Best to deal with this quickly, away from the others.

Anne picked her way through the corpse as carefully as possible, moonlight making shadows between the tree roots below and through its branches above. She stayed as close to the shadowed trunk as possible, hoping for the element of surprise—only to lose it in the next moment, too startled by what she finds on the other side of the tree to remember secrecy.

He doesn’t look well; he’s always been pale, mind, but he looks especially bloodless in the moonlight in a way the campfire prevents one from seeing. Or perhaps that’s not a trick of the light, and rather than it being moonlight robbing him of all color, it might be his health. He truly doesn’t look well, tired about the eyes in a strange sort of way Anne’s only seen once before, a very long time ago. She can’t quite place the look now, but she knows she’s seen it. They haven’t traveled together long, but even so, she’s moved to concern for him. It’s that damned look. It isn’t good news.

“You alright there, Astarion?”

𝐎𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟕𝟐𝟏, 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲. 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭

𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙴 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙽𝚈 𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙳!

independent / slightly selective

s/low activity

history & headcanon based

captained by ren

21+ only, please

template by calisources

𝐎𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟕𝟐𝟏, 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲. 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭

𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙴 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙽𝚈 𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙳!

independent / slightly selective s/low activity history & headcanon based captained by ren 21+ only, please

template by CALISOURCES

Ah, poor fucker. Camp rations are better, fresher, more varied fare than she’s used to—but then, most others would lose their minds on the hardtack diet she’d grown accustomed to. She could almost pity Astarion in some ways; hadn’t he said the first night how unused he was to the quiet of it all? Something about nightlife and the city? She could remember some things about when she’d been a spoilt city girl, about her first lonely night without a bed beneath her. It hadn’t been easy then, for a variety of reasons. For an entirely different variety of them, Astarion is no doubt having difficulty with it all.

Sick in the dead quiet of the night and trying to keep your business your own—Anne empathizes immediately, and probably would have left with an only slightly awkward good-bye and a warning about the damned deer…if only her pride didn’t have a hair trigger. She’d agreed to take orders from the party-voted leader, and while that sure as shit wasn’t her—the suspicious, violent, rage-fueled sailor, she didn’t blame them in the slightest—neither was it him.

Anne wasn’t about to take orders she hadn’t agreed to. It was a matter of pride. And besides, there was the buck to consider—and, more importantly, whatever had scared it. Two fare better than one in a fight.

“En’t the buck I’m worried about. Like ye said: something spooked him first.” Anne turns the dagger in her hand and starts a bit away from the tree, trying to peer through the shadows across from them. The forest is deeper in that direction, harder to see through. Is that where the buck came from? “Empty yer gut and I’ll help ye back to camp. Between the squid-men and the tadpoles, and now the damned goblins, we need to stick closer together. ‘Specially when unwell.” It’s impossible to say where the deer came from; the brush is undisturbed to her untrained eye. Fucking frustrating; it only serves to remind her of how out her depth she is here.

“…I’ll give her what privacy I can. Did ye see which way it came from? I’ll go have a look, give ye time to finish up.”

@estarion

Anne flit between dream and meditation fitfully, as she did more nights than not: even before the leech in her brain, peaceful sleep had eluded her grasp at every turn. Its gross, wiggling presence certainly didn’t make sleep any easier. Despite all of this, and every other warning sign in the night, it was base need and base need alone which finally dragged Anne back into the waking world. If she ignored the issue much longer, it was going to manifest, with or without her blessing.

Anne turned onto her side and fished for the dagger she kept under her pillow, only changing the unnatural brightness of the dying fire’s glow after she had it in hand. Between the fire and the glare of the full moon, she elected to do without another light, walking a short ways off into the woods. Wouldn’t do to attract unwanted animal visitors, after all, especially not to where they slept. She stopped nearby the short ditch instead, a ways off of where they made camp; it seemed a safe enough distance to her, though some might argue it was excessive.

Her hands stilled on the fastening of her trousers when a scuffle echoed up from the ditch. The nearby corpse of trees rattled with the sounds of it. The dagger was naked in her hand before Anne could blink, abandoning her chosen latrine plot to sneak up on the trees down the ditch instead. She slid down the short hill, staying low as she crept nearer the trees. When the young buck came galloping out, Anne dove to the side, barely missing being trampled by the wide-eyed beast. Even without knowing the habits of deer—and why would she, having been at sea all her life?—Anne could tell that whatever had scuffled with that deer was something mucking about with the natural order. In the dead of night like this, anything could be prowling about…but something big enough to tussle with a deer-sized opponent could certainly try tussling with an Anne-sized one, or some other in their company. Best to deal with this quickly, away from the others.

Anne picked her way through the corpse as carefully as possible, moonlight making shadows between the tree roots below and through its branches above. She stayed as close to the shadowed trunk as possible, hoping for the element of surprise—only to lose it in the next moment, too startled by what she finds on the other side of the tree to remember secrecy.

He doesn’t look well; he’s always been pale, mind, but he looks especially bloodless in the moonlight in a way the campfire prevents one from seeing. Or perhaps that’s not a trick of the light, and rather than it being moonlight robbing him of all color, it might be his health. He truly doesn’t look well, tired about the eyes in a strange sort of way Anne’s only seen once before, a very long time ago. She can’t quite place the look now, but she knows she’s seen it. They haven’t traveled together long, but even so, she’s moved to concern for him. It’s that damned look. It isn’t good news.

“You alright there, Astarion?”