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[ Trust has always been difficult for Astarion.
Why would he trust anyone? Certainly, he has brothers and sister to whom he is best bonded to, but it is not the same as trust. He has spent his entire life being a slave to a master who cared very little for him, and he wants to imagine that this is different. He is not bound to Dessa, does not have to remain at her side, but he chooses to. Because he wants to be here, and wants to be with her.
It's quiet tonight, with the rest of their companions dozing off or asleep or in prayer - something that Astarion still doesn't relish, given how lacking he had found the Gods above on a personal level - and he takes the moment to draw her away from the rest of them, letting the quiet of the night help them to slink away, not that he needs a lot of help to do that, coming as naturally to him as, well. Breathing.
Ironic.
With the sky above them and the quiet of the night as their blanket, Astarion breathes out a soft sigh. She is soft and warm beside him, and he leans in to touch her head to her shoulder. ]
Well. At least there doesn't seem to be anyone sneaking up on us tonight.
Why would he trust anyone? Certainly, he has brothers and sister to whom he is best bonded to, but it is not the same as trust. He has spent his entire life being a slave to a master who cared very little for him, and he wants to imagine that this is different. He is not bound to Dessa, does not have to remain at her side, but he chooses to. Because he wants to be here, and wants to be with her.
It's quiet tonight, with the rest of their companions dozing off or asleep or in prayer - something that Astarion still doesn't relish, given how lacking he had found the Gods above on a personal level - and he takes the moment to draw her away from the rest of them, letting the quiet of the night help them to slink away, not that he needs a lot of help to do that, coming as naturally to him as, well. Breathing.
Ironic.
With the sky above them and the quiet of the night as their blanket, Astarion breathes out a soft sigh. She is soft and warm beside him, and he leans in to touch her head to her shoulder. ]
Well. At least there doesn't seem to be anyone sneaking up on us tonight.
[ trust, in truth, should never been an easy thing for anyone.
theirs is a world that is equal parts terrible as it is beautiful, filled with hope as it is filled with despair, cruel as it is kind. for every good samaritan, there are five people with a blade held tightly behind their back. and for people like them, the unfortunate victims of unwanted illithid surgery, there are even more hiding amongst the shadows. for all intents and purposes, they should not have as much trust in each other as they do, dessa should not put so much trust in them as she does as they march across the countryside in hopes of finding themselves a cure.
she should not place as much trust as she does in astarion after all his secrets laid bare before them, but she does for some inexplicable reason each night they slip away while the others sleep, each time something lurches at them from the shadows. she trusts him more than she trusts any other, more than she trusts herself.
isn't it strange how easily it comes? how willing she is to place her life in his hands? a thought for another moment, another night perhaps, for in this moment all dessa can do is smile as they slip away, her thoughts lingering on the subtle curve of his mouth and how relaxed it has been of late. bit by bit, inch by inch, the mask is chipping away and she is getting a glimpse of the man underneath. and oh, how she adores him.
she hums softly, lips pressed in an easy smile, her head going easily under his direction. ]
Mm, they are all worn out after the last fight we barely survived. [ messy hair falls as her head tilts, exposing the soft slope of her neck. ] I'm surprised you still have the energy to steal me away.
theirs is a world that is equal parts terrible as it is beautiful, filled with hope as it is filled with despair, cruel as it is kind. for every good samaritan, there are five people with a blade held tightly behind their back. and for people like them, the unfortunate victims of unwanted illithid surgery, there are even more hiding amongst the shadows. for all intents and purposes, they should not have as much trust in each other as they do, dessa should not put so much trust in them as she does as they march across the countryside in hopes of finding themselves a cure.
she should not place as much trust as she does in astarion after all his secrets laid bare before them, but she does for some inexplicable reason each night they slip away while the others sleep, each time something lurches at them from the shadows. she trusts him more than she trusts any other, more than she trusts herself.
isn't it strange how easily it comes? how willing she is to place her life in his hands? a thought for another moment, another night perhaps, for in this moment all dessa can do is smile as they slip away, her thoughts lingering on the subtle curve of his mouth and how relaxed it has been of late. bit by bit, inch by inch, the mask is chipping away and she is getting a glimpse of the man underneath. and oh, how she adores him.
she hums softly, lips pressed in an easy smile, her head going easily under his direction. ]
Mm, they are all worn out after the last fight we barely survived. [ messy hair falls as her head tilts, exposing the soft slope of her neck. ] I'm surprised you still have the energy to steal me away.
[ It may not necessarily be true that he trusts her - he offers her some measure of it, some understanding that she doesn't yet intend to kill him, that his machinations to earn her trust and favour had worked. The same song and dance of his body being used to earn safety isn't something he'd ever be comfortable discussing aloud, but it had worked here - even as he now wishes that it might not have. His genuine affection for her is growing, and his heart feels a touch heavy for it.
Her body is warm beside him, a stark contrast to his own cool skin, and when she leans close he feels... Happy. It's wretched.
Their quiet moments are that - quiet, and tender, and almost romantic, if one ignores the impending doom and the danger that comes hand in hand with it, the knowledge that if they're not swift nor careful then the tadpoles rolling around in their brains might take control and transform them into hideous beasts. Not only is he far too pretty for that, but he is too busy enjoying his newfound freedom: he doesn't want to lose it now.
Turning his head, his lips twitch into a smile. ]
I think the night brings it out in me. It's familiar territory.
[ His hand lifts, stroking gently through her hair. ]
Comfortable.
Her body is warm beside him, a stark contrast to his own cool skin, and when she leans close he feels... Happy. It's wretched.
Their quiet moments are that - quiet, and tender, and almost romantic, if one ignores the impending doom and the danger that comes hand in hand with it, the knowledge that if they're not swift nor careful then the tadpoles rolling around in their brains might take control and transform them into hideous beasts. Not only is he far too pretty for that, but he is too busy enjoying his newfound freedom: he doesn't want to lose it now.
Turning his head, his lips twitch into a smile. ]
I think the night brings it out in me. It's familiar territory.
[ His hand lifts, stroking gently through her hair. ]
Comfortable.
[ and yet, in stark contrast, she trusts him almost implicitly. he had been one of the first she had encountered upon waking up on that shore, one of the first who had looked at her and not seen her red skin, pointed teeth, or horns decorating her forehead. maybe it was his machinations that made her so inclined to trust him, to keep him at her side even as his true nature had been revealed. or maybe it was because he did not look at her with as much expectation as some of the others did.
she can relax in his company, she can breathe in his company, and let her guard drop just enough for him to slip in.
there is a part of her, as terrible as the thought is, that is almost glad for the tadpoles rolling around their brains although not for the reason most would think. it's selfish and foolish, but without the little bastards what were the chances that any of them would have crossed paths? they would not have these quiet moments, he would not have the chance to stand and bask in the morning sun, and she ─
the hand in her hair drags dessa from her thoughts, tail twitching slightly beside her as she hums again, leaning into the touch. ]
Familiar territory, is it? Are you to say you lounged under the night sky those first few nights instead of skulking about?
[ her voice is teasing, amber gaze glittering with obvious amusement, and she curls fingers around his wrist to bring it down to the side of her face. ]
she can relax in his company, she can breathe in his company, and let her guard drop just enough for him to slip in.
there is a part of her, as terrible as the thought is, that is almost glad for the tadpoles rolling around their brains although not for the reason most would think. it's selfish and foolish, but without the little bastards what were the chances that any of them would have crossed paths? they would not have these quiet moments, he would not have the chance to stand and bask in the morning sun, and she ─
the hand in her hair drags dessa from her thoughts, tail twitching slightly beside her as she hums again, leaning into the touch. ]
Familiar territory, is it? Are you to say you lounged under the night sky those first few nights instead of skulking about?
[ her voice is teasing, amber gaze glittering with obvious amusement, and she curls fingers around his wrist to bring it down to the side of her face. ]
I don't skulk. I creep.
[ It's said fondly enough, at least, and there's no heat behind Astarion's words. He enjoys the gentle nudge of teasing her with his words, at drawing it out and allowing them to banter with one another, and it's nice after years of not being able to say anything for fear of retribution. His heart had felt heavy for such a long time, but now... Now he feels much better about the situation. He can allow himself that, to settle into comfort.
She leans into him, and Astarion lets himself smile, coyly. For her, he can be softer. He is beginning to mean it, too.
Careful fingers brush over the shape of her face, teasing out the familiar pathways as he cups her skin and allows himself the chance to indulge. She is a wonder, he tells himself that often, and the way he is beginning to feel safe, and loved, and wanted... It's alarming, how accustomed he could get to it. ]
And I don't need to do it any more.
[ It's said fondly enough, at least, and there's no heat behind Astarion's words. He enjoys the gentle nudge of teasing her with his words, at drawing it out and allowing them to banter with one another, and it's nice after years of not being able to say anything for fear of retribution. His heart had felt heavy for such a long time, but now... Now he feels much better about the situation. He can allow himself that, to settle into comfort.
She leans into him, and Astarion lets himself smile, coyly. For her, he can be softer. He is beginning to mean it, too.
Careful fingers brush over the shape of her face, teasing out the familiar pathways as he cups her skin and allows himself the chance to indulge. She is a wonder, he tells himself that often, and the way he is beginning to feel safe, and loved, and wanted... It's alarming, how accustomed he could get to it. ]
And I don't need to do it any more.
Well, if they aren't looking for additional participants, we could always
you know
make our own fun 😈
you know
make our own fun 😈
Not at all? What a pair of amnesiacs we make.
[ the difference, she supposes, is how willingly — foolishly — she had surrendered her own memories. astarion has had no such choice, or the meager illusion of it; time is simply a cruel, faded painting of its own. if she had a penchant for self-pity, the contrast between them would staunch it.
perhaps that's why she's merciful enough not to point out, pedantically, that concern is just another cousin to fear, no matter what he chooses to call it. ]
Different doesn't have to be so terrible.
You'll find I quite understand what it's like — neither being the person you were before it was taken from you, nor the person you thought you were for so long, but something else altogether. Something unknown to yourself.
[ the difference, she supposes, is how willingly — foolishly — she had surrendered her own memories. astarion has had no such choice, or the meager illusion of it; time is simply a cruel, faded painting of its own. if she had a penchant for self-pity, the contrast between them would staunch it.
perhaps that's why she's merciful enough not to point out, pedantically, that concern is just another cousin to fear, no matter what he chooses to call it. ]
Different doesn't have to be so terrible.
You'll find I quite understand what it's like — neither being the person you were before it was taken from you, nor the person you thought you were for so long, but something else altogether. Something unknown to yourself.
It's been two hundred years, darling. Even my memory isn't that remarkable.
[ And maybe he's a touch sour about it. He would like to know what he looks like, he would like to know what his appearance shows others now, but... It hadn't mattered, before. It hadn't been an issue because he has handsome and a touch charismatic and that had been enough for most people.
It's only started to matter recently. ]
It's terrible, isn't it?
[ And maybe he's a touch sour about it. He would like to know what he looks like, he would like to know what his appearance shows others now, but... It hadn't mattered, before. It hadn't been an issue because he has handsome and a touch charismatic and that had been enough for most people.
It's only started to matter recently. ]
It's terrible, isn't it?
Yes.
[ simply put; no need for sarcasm or undermining it. she wouldn't have undergone any transformation, if not in some bid to claim ownership of — whoever and whatever she is, now, as though lady shar could ever let herself be cleansed away so easily. ]
But near-fourty stolen years pales next to centuries.
[ simply put; no need for sarcasm or undermining it. she wouldn't have undergone any transformation, if not in some bid to claim ownership of — whoever and whatever she is, now, as though lady shar could ever let herself be cleansed away so easily. ]
But near-fourty stolen years pales next to centuries.
I may only be one man, but I'm a man of many talents.
What are you in the mood for? Do you want to be ravished? Or would you rather be the one doing said ravishing?
What are you in the mood for? Do you want to be ravished? Or would you rather be the one doing said ravishing?
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