Your guess is as good as mine. [Astarion chuckles smoothly somewhere along the borders of awareness, letting relief sweep him from one sense of present insight to the next: focused on himself first as he reattunes to three hundred or so years later in the span of a few blinks, and then to Leto— and the brush of those roaming fingers.
It isn't hard to remember that he likes the here and now better for its benefits— even with his fangs and wicked eyes.]
Some days I swear I've forgotten what it is to be happy or to grieve. For anything. There was—
[Hm.
He pauses, angled up at nothing. Blinking as he squints only to think.]
When you return, I know I'm better than I was. When you're here, I don't feel saddled with inanition in any sense. But dreams? Hells, it's like being out of my own skin when I wake up, for a little while, at least.
I don't know that I feel anything, other than not wanting to go back.
[One slow beat, before:]
But you felt it, didn't you? [Wonderful, he'd said. The nightmare of Tevinter; the bane of nobility that forgets its own keen frailty; Blue Wraith; cruel wolf.]
no subject
It isn't hard to remember that he likes the here and now better for its benefits— even with his fangs and wicked eyes.]
Some days I swear I've forgotten what it is to be happy or to grieve. For anything. There was—
[Hm.
He pauses, angled up at nothing. Blinking as he squints only to think.]
When you return, I know I'm better than I was. When you're here, I don't feel saddled with inanition in any sense. But dreams? Hells, it's like being out of my own skin when I wake up, for a little while, at least.
I don't know that I feel anything, other than not wanting to go back.
[One slow beat, before:]
But you felt it, didn't you? [Wonderful, he'd said. The nightmare of Tevinter; the bane of nobility that forgets its own keen frailty; Blue Wraith; cruel wolf.]
Purpose. Belonging. Acceptance.