On Tav's side, perhaps his intentions weren't exactly pure the first time he was propositioned by Astarion at camp. In his defense, what had led to it- running the Gur hunter off for instance- was well and truly a decision made with good intentions in mind. As was that night when Astarion had tried to feed off him- of not immediately reaching for a stake, of hearing him out, and of doing his best to understand... and then of offering himself. Solely altruistic, better sense be damned- he hardly had good sense in abundance, anyway.
But yes. Taking Astarion up on his offer of a little fun, at the time, was certainly not anything close.
Even so, what had come after that proposition- the sight of Astarion's scars, a real, tangible display of Cazador's brutality, of identifying their language, of drawing them out so the other man could ponder them, rage over them, of just simply listening while he did all of this- brought about feeling within him. Something altogether more solid than the need to blow off as much steam as possible before ceremorphosis took them all.
He can't help but think, perhaps against what better sense he did have, that Astarion had changed somewhat, as well. Here, in the dim light of his tent, it certainly seemed that way. He's less hardened. Less brittle. Less likely to cut- with his words or... well, literally. If just for this moment.
So.]
...Sorry about your ear.
[He can't help but have a little mirth in his tone as he recalls Astarion's whole... take at being chewed upon while he was feeding- because. Well. the look on his face was priceless.]
[ It is an adjustment, a comfort, to find something or someone that he can let his guard down around. Astarion might never admit it or put it into words, but he is doing what he can to express it, to show the way that he feels now: the fact that he can trust in Tav to take care of him, to ensure his safety, to not hold what he says in anger or frustration against him.
It's painfully strange to admit, but Astarion is getting better at it the more time goes on. He is adjusting, and it's both frightening and wonderful.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the guard and armour he had built around himself has been dismantled, has been cut down and destroyed, and he has bared himself to Tav. From his scars, physical and emotional, to his vulnerabilities and the nature of who he is... Slowly but surely he has come to peace with it all. It's something he can accept now, something that allows him to start to think about the possibility of hope for the future. He'd never had that before.
Tav speaks, and Astarion can't help his little snort of a laugh, shaking his head. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
On Tav's side, perhaps his intentions weren't exactly pure the first time he was propositioned by Astarion at camp. In his defense, what had led to it- running the Gur hunter off for instance- was well and truly a decision made with good intentions in mind. As was that night when Astarion had tried to feed off him- of not immediately reaching for a stake, of hearing him out, and of doing his best to understand... and then of offering himself. Solely altruistic, better sense be damned- he hardly had good sense in abundance, anyway.
But yes. Taking Astarion up on his offer of a little fun, at the time, was certainly not anything close.
Even so, what had come after that proposition- the sight of Astarion's scars, a real, tangible display of Cazador's brutality, of identifying their language, of drawing them out so the other man could ponder them, rage over them, of just simply listening while he did all of this- brought about feeling within him. Something altogether more solid than the need to blow off as much steam as possible before ceremorphosis took them all.
He can't help but think, perhaps against what better sense he did have, that Astarion had changed somewhat, as well. Here, in the dim light of his tent, it certainly seemed that way. He's less hardened. Less brittle. Less likely to cut- with his words or... well, literally. If just for this moment.
So.]
...Sorry about your ear.
[He can't help but have a little mirth in his tone as he recalls Astarion's whole... take at being chewed upon while he was feeding- because. Well. the look on his face was priceless.]
no subject
It's painfully strange to admit, but Astarion is getting better at it the more time goes on. He is adjusting, and it's both frightening and wonderful.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the guard and armour he had built around himself has been dismantled, has been cut down and destroyed, and he has bared himself to Tav. From his scars, physical and emotional, to his vulnerabilities and the nature of who he is... Slowly but surely he has come to peace with it all. It's something he can accept now, something that allows him to start to think about the possibility of hope for the future. He'd never had that before.
Tav speaks, and Astarion can't help his little snort of a laugh, shaking his head. ]
You are very forgiven, I assure you.