illithidnapped

"I do care," is a mild contradiction, no heat behind it.

Perhaps he should not. Perhaps this is some failing within himself, these attachments he's formed in spite of good sense.

Astarion, at least, will not be so concerned if Ellis does not return.

But that is all Ellis says for a moment, pausing as he examines Astarion's contribution to the array, the press of his fingers against the table. Ellis shuffles the cards in his hands.

"I have been here longer than I intended to be," Ellis says slowly. He is working his way around a clearer answer: he is leaving, and uncertain of his return. "I hadn't lived like this for many years before I came to Riftwatch."

“You’re saying it like it’s a goodbye.” He scoffs out dagger-sharp, irritated by assumed introspection. By the gravity of something like self-reflection, or reverie, or solitary sorrow— he’s had enough of people leaving.

I do care, Ellis says, and Astarion takes offense to that, too. Throws it aside in the confines of his own mind as he twists the cards in hand by nominal degrees.

Because the lie you refuse to entertain is a lie that won’t ever hurt you.

And then he pauses. Something in his brow gone taut. He knows more about this world than he lets on, and it strikes him there. Cold.

Edited 2022-01-11 00:50 (UTC)

Is it a good-bye?

Perhaps, in spite of his intentions. He intends to return, but what guarantee is there that circumstances will allow for it? He watches Astarion across the table, the way he's stopped, hands still.

"Deal the cards," Ellis prompts, before saying, "I've a matter to the north that needs my attention. It'll take me some time to complete."

By the new year, he'd promised. He'd return by the new year. But the world is unsettled. The Wardens are fractured. And Ellis doesn't know what it will be to walk among them again properly.

"Fine, darling."

Middling acquiescence, devoid of any real bite; somewhere beneath the surface as he tucks his attention back into the deck between his fingers, he is relieved to know this won't likely be a definitive end, given the ways of ephemeral things. Grey Wardens, to be exact.

"But you'd better come back."

Longer with Riftwatch than he'd intended to be or otherwise, this is where he belongs, now.

A flicker of a smile in answer.

Ellis has promised Tony, yes, but as the moment of departure draws close, he wonders what the odds are that he returns. Adrasteia's fears are all valid, whatever Ellis had said in answer. Yseult's concerns are not unfounded. And Tony is right; Ellis does not have the same drive towards self preservation that other men do.

No promises. But a nod, acknowledgement, before he asks, "Would you spare some space on your floor here, for the night?"

Astarion's own smile flexes thin, barely noticeable above the way he holds his cards just before his face, head tipped slightly downwards.

"You can pay me back for it when you return."

"If you leave me any coin after this," is a lighter remark on the way to some more sincere murmur of, "Thank you."

As always, Ellis expects to find some outer limit to Astarion's willingness to tolerate him. Wherever that boundary lies, it seems that it'll be some months now before Ellis locates it.

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put a bow on this y/n advise me