[ Astarion looks over his shoulder at the veritable fort they've created against the headboard and shakes his head, all seriousness. ] It's perfect. Completely necessary amount of pillows.
[ He darts a quick kiss to Gale's shoulder before sliding back on the bed so he can lie on his side upon the pillow heap, chin in hand so he still has just the right view of Gale. The most magical thing in this room, bar none.
It's hard to kill the instinct to turn on the charm, slip an easy mask on, one Astarion's worn for centuries now. He has to still himself, focus his gaze on Gale's hand spread on the comforter, the lines at the corners of his eyes that tell of a life lived. Reminding himself it's Gale in the room with him, not a stranger. Not Cazador.
Astarion is quiet a moment, working out what to say. What he lands on may sound like a line, but it's honest. An awful habit he's picked up, being around this man. ]
You're perfect, you know. [ Astarion smoothes his hand over the space on the bed beside him, then pats it. ] Come here.
no subject
[ He darts a quick kiss to Gale's shoulder before sliding back on the bed so he can lie on his side upon the pillow heap, chin in hand so he still has just the right view of Gale. The most magical thing in this room, bar none.
It's hard to kill the instinct to turn on the charm, slip an easy mask on, one Astarion's worn for centuries now. He has to still himself, focus his gaze on Gale's hand spread on the comforter, the lines at the corners of his eyes that tell of a life lived. Reminding himself it's Gale in the room with him, not a stranger. Not Cazador.
Astarion is quiet a moment, working out what to say. What he lands on may sound like a line, but it's honest. An awful habit he's picked up, being around this man. ]
You're perfect, you know. [ Astarion smoothes his hand over the space on the bed beside him, then pats it. ] Come here.