[Baldurs Gate— he could start with. Almost does, a kind of start-stop hang across his tongue that doesn't fear what he can't feel tugging at him anymore (or rather: he does— always will— but not right now), not in this specific context, when logic's gone so far away from the firelight beside them that it circles right back around to being utterly, insanely trustworthy.
He doesn't want to bind himself to that.
If he's gone out into the wilderness or across the Realms themselves, choice swears he can try on something else for a change.]
Toril. [Astarion settles on, figuring the world itself will suffice for a clear marker when it comes to just how much they're both potentially at odds. At a loss.]
no subject
He doesn't want to bind himself to that.
If he's gone out into the wilderness or across the Realms themselves, choice swears he can try on something else for a change.]
Toril. [Astarion settles on, figuring the world itself will suffice for a clear marker when it comes to just how much they're both potentially at odds. At a loss.]
But that doesn't mean anything to you, does it?