[Slow slide: the squeeze of his left fingers over the first two of his right, drawing down. Tucks his thumbpad along the top of the opposite, dragging with movement that runs against the grain of that nervous tic.
Of course it's reassuring, watching those doeish eyes lift as Fenris' head tilts. Of course the throatiness in that voice is something that— already— has two hundred years of sworn mistrust inching in with its tail tucked and its ears lowered in fretful, unsettled need. Of course, to say no less than all of the above, Astarion trusts it.
But he's breaking open a cask that's been sealed for longer than most mortals live. The dry rasp of his throat feels sharp when he inhales, dangerous as glass.]
no subject
Of course it's reassuring, watching those doeish eyes lift as Fenris' head tilts. Of course the throatiness in that voice is something that— already— has two hundred years of sworn mistrust inching in with its tail tucked and its ears lowered in fretful, unsettled need. Of course, to say no less than all of the above, Astarion trusts it.
But he's breaking open a cask that's been sealed for longer than most mortals live. The dry rasp of his throat feels sharp when he inhales, dangerous as glass.]
That you wake before sunrise with me.