[ Impossible not to think of Mystra, however briefly, as Astarion toys with her symbol. He knew, in those first few weeks after she cast him out, that he should remove it. The wizarding community spread news of ruination swiftly, his rising star burnt out (though they knew not why). Anyone who saw him would think the glint of silver a pathetic relic. Still, Gale has clung to the possibility of forgiveness β or at least, undying devotion, as a lifeline. To forgo her symbol now would be to give up on reclaiming what he once had forevermore.
Astarion makes it equally impossible to linger in his reverie, with a teasing bite-kiss marking tender skin, and his own choked-off groan approving the act. All-consuming devotion to his goddess seems incongruous with his present choices, which have now led to an obvious indication of his β entanglement with Astarion. A discordant pang isnβt enough to waylay him, however, when he does want for someone else for the first time in a long time. This is different. More human, ironically, despite Astarion sapping his warmth and baring his teeth. ]
You are a possessive creature, arenβt you. [ He huffs a laugh in Astarionβs ear, giddy as a schoolboy, before pressing a kiss into his hair, then another at his temple. ] Surprising no one. [ Except perhaps Astarion himself, who may not realise how he comes across, which is all the more amusing. Emboldened, his fingers tug Astarionβs laces free, so his can slide a palm over his lovely collarbone. ]
What am I to say, when someone sees your handiwork? [ Coy, though he does wonder how Astarion wishes to appear to the others. ]
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Astarion makes it equally impossible to linger in his reverie, with a teasing bite-kiss marking tender skin, and his own choked-off groan approving the act. All-consuming devotion to his goddess seems incongruous with his present choices, which have now led to an obvious indication of his β entanglement with Astarion. A discordant pang isnβt enough to waylay him, however, when he does want for someone else for the first time in a long time. This is different. More human, ironically, despite Astarion sapping his warmth and baring his teeth. ]
You are a possessive creature, arenβt you. [ He huffs a laugh in Astarionβs ear, giddy as a schoolboy, before pressing a kiss into his hair, then another at his temple. ] Surprising no one. [ Except perhaps Astarion himself, who may not realise how he comes across, which is all the more amusing. Emboldened, his fingers tug Astarionβs laces free, so his can slide a palm over his lovely collarbone. ]
What am I to say, when someone sees your handiwork? [ Coy, though he does wonder how Astarion wishes to appear to the others. ]