exsangue: (pic#16872181)
𝐴𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑛 ([personal profile] exsangue) wrote in [personal profile] corporeity 2024-01-04 05:23 pm (UTC)

[ Desperate as Astarion is to see what Gale's looking at, he knows from myriad fruitless attempts that he can't, and so he straightens, turns his head back toward the balcony so Gale can get the full picture. Gauzy drapes flutter in the night air, city lights sparkling beyond them. An unfamiliar vista, one Astarion hopes will hold possibility. ]

Ha. [ At Cazador's idea of sweetness. ] You don't know the half of it.

[ Astarion can feel Gale behind him, the anticipation of touch without any followthrough, and it sends a light shiver through him. The information feels like both too much and not enough at once: he struggles to hold onto Gale's words as his mind races, oaths, fires below.

He's scared, he realizes, by the time Gale tells him it's not a poem. His shoulders tense, spine taut as he snaps, ]


What the hells is it, then? [ Astarion catches himself, on a shaky exhale. ] Sorry. I - Two centuries I've lived with this, and no one has had answers.

[ And then he refocuses on what Gale has offered: researching the rest of the words. Astarion can't quite look at him, twisting as if he wants to but stopping before Gale can see the full vulnerability of his features, blinking down at the water with a furrowed brow instead, his voice soft. ]

You would do that for me?

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