[Astarion answers with a splay of his hands where he sits over a spread blanket that's kept almost entirely to himself, plate of half-eaten figs balanced over one knee (the one kept horizontal to the earth, that is), while his other tilts skywards, ankles crossed.
And the others— wait.
Think.
Stare, trying to discern what it is about him or their surroundings that's changed in either the last few minutes or over the last few weeks, when all he looks— as far as anyone can tell— is the same. The same pale white hair, the same pearl-colored skin, the same gilded jewelry, the same loose shirt and decadent clasps, the same breeches and dark riding leathers— all of it, everything exactly what they've seen before.
'I don't see anything different.' Yousen hums out precatively. The first to break the silence if only because his hawkish eyes are usually the ones eternally relied on by the rest of the pack for even the most well-hidden of secrets.]
Don't you?
[His own sly question posed as Astarion reaches beside his perch for more wine, grasp incidentally crossing over in front of Fenris' own nearby silhouette. Nothing. Nothing at all of note.]
no subject
[Astarion answers with a splay of his hands where he sits over a spread blanket that's kept almost entirely to himself, plate of half-eaten figs balanced over one knee (the one kept horizontal to the earth, that is), while his other tilts skywards, ankles crossed.
And the others— wait.
Think.
Stare, trying to discern what it is about him or their surroundings that's changed in either the last few minutes or over the last few weeks, when all he looks— as far as anyone can tell— is the same. The same pale white hair, the same pearl-colored skin, the same gilded jewelry, the same loose shirt and decadent clasps, the same breeches and dark riding leathers— all of it, everything exactly what they've seen before.
'I don't see anything different.' Yousen hums out precatively. The first to break the silence if only because his hawkish eyes are usually the ones eternally relied on by the rest of the pack for even the most well-hidden of secrets.]
Don't you?
[His own sly question posed as Astarion reaches beside his perch for more wine, grasp incidentally crossing over in front of Fenris' own nearby silhouette. Nothing. Nothing at all of note.]