"We"? [ Astarion's voice cracks, despite himself. He doesn't bother to answer the actual question, spinning on his heels halfway to one of the bar stools. ] Is there a we to speak of, anymore?
[ Was there ever, is what he wants to ask, but the tremor in his jaw forbids it. Gale looks at him as if nothing is wrong, as if Astarion can come to bed and pretend the entire world hasn't shifted beneath their feet, pulled toward one inexorable detonation.
And Astarion is unleashing his own, days of silent, anticipatory grief boiling over. He lowers his voice to a hiss, not wanting anyone else to wake because he can't bear to be seen like this. To have Gale witness it is hard enough. ]
I had to hear it from Shadowheart, Gale. [ Stepping back into his space, nails digging crescents into the meat of his palm as he lifts his chin to meet Gale's eyes. There's a violent impulse in Astarion that roils with hurt, wanting to shake him, to push him. He only just restrains himself, blinking back the wet at the corners of his eyes as he grits out, ] And all you can say to me is you won't need my spoils any longer?
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[ Was there ever, is what he wants to ask, but the tremor in his jaw forbids it. Gale looks at him as if nothing is wrong, as if Astarion can come to bed and pretend the entire world hasn't shifted beneath their feet, pulled toward one inexorable detonation.
And Astarion is unleashing his own, days of silent, anticipatory grief boiling over. He lowers his voice to a hiss, not wanting anyone else to wake because he can't bear to be seen like this. To have Gale witness it is hard enough. ]
I had to hear it from Shadowheart, Gale. [ Stepping back into his space, nails digging crescents into the meat of his palm as he lifts his chin to meet Gale's eyes. There's a violent impulse in Astarion that roils with hurt, wanting to shake him, to push him. He only just restrains himself, blinking back the wet at the corners of his eyes as he grits out, ] And all you can say to me is you won't need my spoils any longer?