[Excitement builds itself atop the bones of his immediately fading rawness; the odd salt-tinge that scrapes against his skin and joints, chafing throughout every blink or movement as they trot along, the grey-brown cliffs that spear their way up towards the sky suddenly the oddest wonder to behold: nothing like the bejeweled seas or verdant mountains lining Baldur's Gate— therefore what they safeguard must be equally impactful. A hypothesis only doubled down by Fenris' admission barely half a second later, when the offer of his home insists he has a home— insists there's something in that reportedly fanged city worth treasuring— and his mind races up to meet that assertion in kind, swearing to himself that it could be a bloody hole in the dirt (of course it won't be, gods, look at the man settled just before him), and he'd still find fervent succor in the space that it affords.
Leaning around in the saddle he can feel his pulsebeat racing yet again. His eyes widening as his grip pulls tauter for security in movement. There it is, Fenris says through the throatiest of hums, and Astarion can't see around him no matter how he tries. Has to stick his heels low and lever up by crude degrees, pulling and pushing his own weight to at last mark the sight of his own future.
The bastion of his freedom. The start of his new life.]
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Leaning around in the saddle he can feel his pulsebeat racing yet again. His eyes widening as his grip pulls tauter for security in movement. There it is, Fenris says through the throatiest of hums, and Astarion can't see around him no matter how he tries. Has to stick his heels low and lever up by crude degrees, pulling and pushing his own weight to at last mark the sight of his own future.
The bastion of his freedom. The start of his new life.]