Like you. [ Astarion echoes it, low, as they walk back inside, where the others are sleeping. His nerves still feel frayed, as they have since Gale received his death sentence and they entered this forsaken place, but gods, he is ready for rest. Privacy. An impossibility in his previous life and a rarity in this one.
There's a key for one of the spare rooms in his back pocket, and they're greeted by quiet darkness as he unlocks it. There are two twin beds with trunks for their belongings at the end, separated by a dusty nightstand. Astarion swipes a finger through the dust, rubbing thumb and forefinger together with a wrinkle in his brow as he looks back at Gale. ]
Have you been able to conjure a bespoke magical bed this whole time? Don't hold out on me, then.
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There's a key for one of the spare rooms in his back pocket, and they're greeted by quiet darkness as he unlocks it. There are two twin beds with trunks for their belongings at the end, separated by a dusty nightstand. Astarion swipes a finger through the dust, rubbing thumb and forefinger together with a wrinkle in his brow as he looks back at Gale. ]
Have you been able to conjure a bespoke magical bed this whole time? Don't hold out on me, then.