[There is, after a time, not sound but a flicker of movement in the borders of those crowded streets: a shifting of shadow within shadow, only able to exist in the places where a low-hanging sun can't seem to fully reach— and within that obscurity, two hollow eyes, red around reflective pupils that shine brighter depending on where they flick. Easily waved off as a stray cat if not for height and starkness, let alone the visible lifting of a heavy cloak should Leto's eyes adjust.
Astarion. It must be. His lying con artist of a kadan, come to bring him home.
—only underneath that hooded cloak is a woman instead. White curls slung low across her eyes and around the borders of her face, offsetting kohl-kissed lashes that sit hooded once he's near. Her fangs glint white when she smiles, pulling high to one side.
And most of all, she smells of their wolf. Their home. Lilac and leather oil, bergamot and brandy, and the faintest whiff of transplanted lyrium.]
Took you long enough.
[Never mind she only just managed to track him down, and with only a few trace scorchmarks for her trouble.]
no subject
Astarion. It must be. His lying con artist of a kadan, come to bring him home.
—only underneath that hooded cloak is a woman instead. White curls slung low across her eyes and around the borders of her face, offsetting kohl-kissed lashes that sit hooded once he's near. Her fangs glint white when she smiles, pulling high to one side.
And most of all, she smells of their wolf. Their home. Lilac and leather oil, bergamot and brandy, and the faintest whiff of transplanted lyrium.]
Took you long enough.
[Never mind she only just managed to track him down, and with only a few trace scorchmarks for her trouble.]