[With gloved fingers Astarion ushers Fenris inside, snapping up a fallen map from its resting place across the floor, tapping at a few key points.
Anywhere— and it isn't that he doesn't grasp the dangers involved when stealing out into a larger war unaided, or that his containment has drowned its every boon in languishment (on the contrary, he's already brightened without strings or shackles at his throat), but freedom, true damned freedom calls.
He wants to shuck every trace of conceivable restraint. Drink like a dying man, eat like a starving lord— thieve and steal and cavort and run his mind into the gutter, and he doesn't want to do it alone.
And there's only one soul who's earned a ticket to that mayhem at his side.]
You know the world better than I do. What'll it be: Antiva or Orlais?
no subject
[With gloved fingers Astarion ushers Fenris inside, snapping up a fallen map from its resting place across the floor, tapping at a few key points.
Anywhere— and it isn't that he doesn't grasp the dangers involved when stealing out into a larger war unaided, or that his containment has drowned its every boon in languishment (on the contrary, he's already brightened without strings or shackles at his throat), but freedom, true damned freedom calls.
He wants to shuck every trace of conceivable restraint. Drink like a dying man, eat like a starving lord— thieve and steal and cavort and run his mind into the gutter, and he doesn't want to do it alone.
And there's only one soul who's earned a ticket to that mayhem at his side.]
You know the world better than I do. What'll it be: Antiva or Orlais?