[His voice is slow and drowsy with contentment, deep and rich in the way it gets only when he's particularly soothed. Safe, warm, happy, content, and it isn't that he's unaware of the future. It gnaws at him nightly, his mind constantly forming plans and practicing defenses; his days are spent learning all the spells that might work against a vampire, sunlight and fire and water all ready to be wielded with the flash of his blade. He knows what they will soon leave to face; he knows how high the stakes are.
But they have always overcome whatever challenges have been set before them. Riftwatch. Corypheus. Memory loss and mutilation; the separation of worlds and the terror of never seeing one another again. Monsters and starvation and fights; the shock of the loss of his lyrium and Astarion's newfound species, coupled with all the personality changes that wracked them both. Cazador . . . Cazador is so many things, and Leto will not ever make the mistake of underestimating him— but nor will he allow him to terrify him to the point of incompetence.
For Leto knows himself now as he didn't before. He can feel it within himself; he can feel it thrumming between them, their spirits vibrating in attunement as they hadn't before. They can do it. They will do it. Cazador might be a terror, but he can die just as easily as any god.
But right now, he isn't allowing himself to think of all that. There's just the here and now; there's just fingers pressed dotingly against his back and cool breath against his cheek, and the simple but unerring joy of knowing that he's loved. That he has changed today, growing in a way he hadn't realized he was aching for until it came upon him.
Three years . . . and three hundred more after it.]
Mph, well, it seems only fair.
[He mouths gently at the line of one ear, smiling as he does.]
You have witnessed countless firsts of mine. It is far past time I was allowed to see one of yours, kadan.
no subject
[His voice is slow and drowsy with contentment, deep and rich in the way it gets only when he's particularly soothed. Safe, warm, happy, content, and it isn't that he's unaware of the future. It gnaws at him nightly, his mind constantly forming plans and practicing defenses; his days are spent learning all the spells that might work against a vampire, sunlight and fire and water all ready to be wielded with the flash of his blade. He knows what they will soon leave to face; he knows how high the stakes are.
But they have always overcome whatever challenges have been set before them. Riftwatch. Corypheus. Memory loss and mutilation; the separation of worlds and the terror of never seeing one another again. Monsters and starvation and fights; the shock of the loss of his lyrium and Astarion's newfound species, coupled with all the personality changes that wracked them both. Cazador . . . Cazador is so many things, and Leto will not ever make the mistake of underestimating him— but nor will he allow him to terrify him to the point of incompetence.
For Leto knows himself now as he didn't before. He can feel it within himself; he can feel it thrumming between them, their spirits vibrating in attunement as they hadn't before. They can do it. They will do it. Cazador might be a terror, but he can die just as easily as any god.
But right now, he isn't allowing himself to think of all that. There's just the here and now; there's just fingers pressed dotingly against his back and cool breath against his cheek, and the simple but unerring joy of knowing that he's loved. That he has changed today, growing in a way he hadn't realized he was aching for until it came upon him.
Three years . . . and three hundred more after it.]
Mph, well, it seems only fair.
[He mouths gently at the line of one ear, smiling as he does.]
You have witnessed countless firsts of mine. It is far past time I was allowed to see one of yours, kadan.