Not lately. Not as far as I can ascertain, anyway.
[The bed is cramped and uncomfortable and Fenris doesn't care. They could be lying on the damned floor and he'd still follow where those patting fingers led, squirming and wriggling until he's fitted himself within that small space. Their bodies jostle together, elbows and knees and ankles, and oh, it's been too long a night for this. With a soft grunt of effort Fenris pulls the pale elf towards him, gently urging him into resting half atop him, safely encircled by his arms.
The searching look that Astarion had given him lingers in his mind. There must be something there, but so far as Fenris is concerned, there isn't. They have not divulged everything to one another, but there is nothing he is actively keeping back. And yet there was such concern in those narrowed silver eyes . . . he exhales slowly, long and loud, and doesn't realize how much like a wearied hound he sounds when he does it.]
But in the past few years . . . very little. A day or two here or there . . .
[And it sounds so much more suspicious now that he says it out loud. It's not that he wasn't aware of it before, it's just . . . that was how it was. Always, that was how it was. Danarius never seemed to mind, and the few times Fenris had gotten up the courage to ask, the answer was always the same. You were injured. You were hurt. You practiced too much. You were foolish and clumsy.
His fingers stroke gently through Astarion's hair, a small frown on his face now.]
What did you mean, recruitment could have been a lifetime?
no subject
[The bed is cramped and uncomfortable and Fenris doesn't care. They could be lying on the damned floor and he'd still follow where those patting fingers led, squirming and wriggling until he's fitted himself within that small space. Their bodies jostle together, elbows and knees and ankles, and oh, it's been too long a night for this. With a soft grunt of effort Fenris pulls the pale elf towards him, gently urging him into resting half atop him, safely encircled by his arms.
The searching look that Astarion had given him lingers in his mind. There must be something there, but so far as Fenris is concerned, there isn't. They have not divulged everything to one another, but there is nothing he is actively keeping back. And yet there was such concern in those narrowed silver eyes . . . he exhales slowly, long and loud, and doesn't realize how much like a wearied hound he sounds when he does it.]
But in the past few years . . . very little. A day or two here or there . . .
[And it sounds so much more suspicious now that he says it out loud. It's not that he wasn't aware of it before, it's just . . . that was how it was. Always, that was how it was. Danarius never seemed to mind, and the few times Fenris had gotten up the courage to ask, the answer was always the same. You were injured. You were hurt. You practiced too much. You were foolish and clumsy.
His fingers stroke gently through Astarion's hair, a small frown on his face now.]
What did you mean, recruitment could have been a lifetime?