It suits you. [Is a promise that isn't embellished for the sake of sentiment. Or— if it is, it's only that way because it happens to also be the truth, with no other facets whatsoever at stake.
And sometime in the future he'll scoff critically (in all usual, acidic fashion) before asking about elves having no other names at all— Dalish or city elf or otherwise, all. No excuse enough to stop Astarion from subsequently crooning about how that sets Leto himself apart in yet one more gloriously defiant way. Another notch against his origin, save for what parts of it he loved. Master of two worlds as a thing astride in both, worth envy beyond envy by everyone that'd ever laid eyes on him.
And everyone that hasn't let.
Astarion, as things are, can't tear his own away. Thief that he is, warmth always calls to him before he has the chance to resist its waiting lure; joy brighter than moonlight too beautiful to keep from setting his fingertips to. The little creases— the narrow divots— where Leto's contentment wrinkles in fine lines across his skin regardless of his age.
He doesn't realize that he's smiling, too.
Fooled into thinking it's only Leto that's bumping their foreheads together in that moment, time and time again.]
YOURE. ONE. TO. TALK. POINTS TO THIS!!!!!!!!!!11111
And sometime in the future he'll scoff critically (in all usual, acidic fashion) before asking about elves having no other names at all— Dalish or city elf or otherwise, all. No excuse enough to stop Astarion from subsequently crooning about how that sets Leto himself apart in yet one more gloriously defiant way. Another notch against his origin, save for what parts of it he loved. Master of two worlds as a thing astride in both, worth envy beyond envy by everyone that'd ever laid eyes on him.
And everyone that hasn't let.
Astarion, as things are, can't tear his own away. Thief that he is, warmth always calls to him before he has the chance to resist its waiting lure; joy brighter than moonlight too beautiful to keep from setting his fingertips to. The little creases— the narrow divots— where Leto's contentment wrinkles in fine lines across his skin regardless of his age.
He doesn't realize that he's smiling, too.
Fooled into thinking it's only Leto that's bumping their foreheads together in that moment, time and time again.]
....but what of mine doesn't?