[He doesn't miss the change from it to he and back again. It hurt me, it made me relive through my worst moments, it reminded me of a love I thought for so long was unrequited (and gods, but Leto's heart pangs softly at that, a soft reminder to be tender to his beloved tonight). But then . . . he wanted to be a person, and what happened there, that Astarion thought such a thing even remotely worth entertaining?
But perhaps it comes from the notion that Rifters, themselves, were spirits. Leto had never put any stock into such a theory; indeed, the only reason he remembers it is because Astarion had been afraid. But perhaps therein lies some form of sympathy. Some aching bit of echo: this might have been me.
And it wasn't. Isn't. And they've never held truck with pity, either of them, but . . . ]
Yes. [It's deeply discomfiting, actually.] Do not change the subject.
What do you mean, "dying in a cell, forgotten"? He was an echo of a memory of a mage, then?
no subject
But perhaps it comes from the notion that Rifters, themselves, were spirits. Leto had never put any stock into such a theory; indeed, the only reason he remembers it is because Astarion had been afraid. But perhaps therein lies some form of sympathy. Some aching bit of echo: this might have been me.
And it wasn't. Isn't. And they've never held truck with pity, either of them, but . . . ]
Yes. [It's deeply discomfiting, actually.] Do not change the subject.
What do you mean, "dying in a cell, forgotten"? He was an echo of a memory of a mage, then?