Not impossible for someone like Astarion, of course. Someone with gnarled scars etched across his shoulders and even uglier memories tucked inside his skull, but even so, care defines consideration (much as the vampire might not enjoy admitting it aloud, he feels it, keenly); he takes stock of everything in silence, and tucks it away with keen precision.
Not to be forgotten.
"And that's why you're chased now." He posits mildly, letting his hand fall somewhere around the edge of Fenris' collarbone, slender fingers tangling in pale tangles of salt-kissed hair, still damp at their edges from lingering sweat.
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Not impossible for someone like Astarion, of course. Someone with gnarled scars etched across his shoulders and even uglier memories tucked inside his skull, but even so, care defines consideration (much as the vampire might not enjoy admitting it aloud, he feels it, keenly); he takes stock of everything in silence, and tucks it away with keen precision.
Not to be forgotten.
"And that's why you're chased now." He posits mildly, letting his hand fall somewhere around the edge of Fenris' collarbone, slender fingers tangling in pale tangles of salt-kissed hair, still damp at their edges from lingering sweat.
"Not by him, but because of him."
Insult not forgotten or assets still desired.
"I imagine it must've been lonely."