Mmh. Just that I was young. ['Just that', Astarion says, as if that's not enough entirely on its own. And yet to his credit, he's not blind in his irreverence: only someone that didn't know Leto all that well would miss the meaning behind that fumbled banter. The surging promise that he's coming home.
And Astarion knows Leto very well.]
Impatient, I think. That's the sensation I feel most whenever I find myself blindsided by an odd pang of what must be half-formed memories trying their utter damndest to cram their way into the forefront of my mind post-sleep. Probably something to do with the apparent difference between what passes for a nice, respectable age for a proper magistrate in Baldur's Gate, and the 'lifetime'— as you so eloquently put it— that forestalls Elvish naming ceremonies.
[He squints at nothing for one beat longer, trying to make sense of something from the mess inside his skull, but it was never really there to begin with.
And then, sans any segue:]
You didn't just pass up all those friends of yours just now, did you?
no subject
And Astarion knows Leto very well.]
Impatient, I think. That's the sensation I feel most whenever I find myself blindsided by an odd pang of what must be half-formed memories trying their utter damndest to cram their way into the forefront of my mind post-sleep. Probably something to do with the apparent difference between what passes for a nice, respectable age for a proper magistrate in Baldur's Gate, and the 'lifetime'— as you so eloquently put it— that forestalls Elvish naming ceremonies.
[He squints at nothing for one beat longer, trying to make sense of something from the mess inside his skull, but it was never really there to begin with.
And then, sans any segue:]
You didn't just pass up all those friends of yours just now, did you?