[He stays stock still. Lets his guardian work while he listens— for once, at least— without any amount of fussing on his own end. His left ankle's falling asleep by now, but there's nothing in him that minds the leveled cost of kindness on a night that could suck the notion marrow-dry without expending anything more than what's already played out.
It feels....nice.
Stinging cold and all, it really does feel nice. Right down to the swipe of damp cotton underneath his nail beds, dragging away caked-on grit and powdered glass and blood all at once, and for a little while he realizes he could lose himself in this. The return of their truce, and the settled sense of comfort it provides.
What Fenris talks about: less so.
(Though that brief mockery? Adorable.)]
Either that, or they'd tear each other to shreds from the sound of it. [One smooth scoff forging the segue between one thought to the next.]
Cant say I don't know the type.... [in theory] but being jealous of an enslaved guard d—ian is a new one, even for me. [Whew. Smooth recovery there. Job well done, Astarion.
But gods, fumbled thoughtlessness aside there's still so much more to unpack now than ever before as far as all those monumental revelations go, most of all when they're settled down like this: in absolute silence otherwise. No phones, no interruptions. No worries about listening ears or watching eyes. His bed, Fenris said. Did that mean— was only Hadriana that to Danarius? Was intimacy her sole means of thwarting jealousy (or).... and never mind that generations implies a longer time in service. And while elves are long lived anyway, and Astarion doubts Fenris is older than his father, it still begs the immediate(ly stupid) question:]
no subject
It feels....nice.
Stinging cold and all, it really does feel nice. Right down to the swipe of damp cotton underneath his nail beds, dragging away caked-on grit and powdered glass and blood all at once, and for a little while he realizes he could lose himself in this. The return of their truce, and the settled sense of comfort it provides.
What Fenris talks about: less so.
(Though that brief mockery? Adorable.)]
Either that, or they'd tear each other to shreds from the sound of it. [One smooth scoff forging the segue between one thought to the next.]
Cant say I don't know the type.... [in theory] but being jealous of an enslaved guard d—ian is a new one, even for me. [Whew. Smooth recovery there. Job well done, Astarion.
But gods, fumbled thoughtlessness aside there's still so much more to unpack now than ever before as far as all those monumental revelations go, most of all when they're settled down like this: in absolute silence otherwise. No phones, no interruptions. No worries about listening ears or watching eyes. His bed, Fenris said. Did that mean— was only Hadriana that to Danarius? Was intimacy her sole means of thwarting jealousy (or).... and never mind that generations implies a longer time in service. And while elves are long lived anyway, and Astarion doubts Fenris is older than his father, it still begs the immediate(ly stupid) question:]
How old are you really, anyway?