[Nothing folds easily— least of all them. Resilient framework their only saving grace, even when they buckle (slipping forwards into each other; into the games they play and the comforts they know with an almost ritualistic familiarity), it's never as simple a transaction as it appears on the surface: what someone else would see as two elves teasing— talking— nosing at each other with a few muted swipes here or there, is the footpath of a hundred little voiceless conversations.
The way they communicate runs deeper than blood, and gods above, there's such a balance to it.
Astarion grins to feel his lover's lean weight shift. Sharper still to what then follows.]
Mother may I?
[Oh he's a misbehaving thing, though there's something said for the fact that he would never refuse to ask in the first place.]
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The way they communicate runs deeper than blood, and gods above, there's such a balance to it.
Astarion grins to feel his lover's lean weight shift. Sharper still to what then follows.]
Mother may I?
[Oh he's a misbehaving thing, though there's something said for the fact that he would never refuse to ask in the first place.]