[ Astarion's been right at the edge of some of Gale's stormier spells, lightning arcs and rolling thunder he's woven in and out of to deal a killing blow. Easier to navigate than fire, in some ways, but the static always makes his hair stand on end, knowing one errant step could mean a bolt that sends him straight to his maker. Again.
Sinking into Gale's blood isn't unlike being pulled toward the eye of the tempest. Astarion makes a low, pleased sound akin to a purr as his lashes flutter, drinking deep.
He's been inside so many people, but none like this - none so deadly and invigorating as Gale. The hand at Gale's hip clamps tighter, enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingertips, feeling the life flow back to him even as it leaves Gale. ]
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Sinking into Gale's blood isn't unlike being pulled toward the eye of the tempest. Astarion makes a low, pleased sound akin to a purr as his lashes flutter, drinking deep.
He's been inside so many people, but none like this - none so deadly and invigorating as Gale. The hand at Gale's hip clamps tighter, enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingertips, feeling the life flow back to him even as it leaves Gale. ]