It isn't possible to love Leto more, but standing there in the shuttered darkness of a coming night, stripped bare of pretense alongside clothing, he'd swear himself as close to that margin as one could ever get. Both were enslaved creatures once; both understand the necessity of doggedly checking their own shadow to be certain that it matches— yet they are so far from Thedas, and Leto is so young. What was once familiar feels a full lifetime ago. Easily forgotten. (Never forgotten, no. He sees the truth of it lain across their mattress, in the fixated focus of autumnal eyes as they peer back in stoic earnest.
Young only in their form, not the wisdom held behind them.)
Astarion's expression relaxes, and the hang of his posture goes with it.]
Aurelia and Dalyria. [Sits suspended in midair for far too long before reason settles in, insisting that Leto will want to know what those names mean— who they are.
And rightfully he should.
There's a mulled flicker of sound as pale fingertips set gilded jewelry aside across a nearby table, moving no closer beyond that.]
no subject
It isn't possible to love Leto more, but standing there in the shuttered darkness of a coming night, stripped bare of pretense alongside clothing, he'd swear himself as close to that margin as one could ever get. Both were enslaved creatures once; both understand the necessity of doggedly checking their own shadow to be certain that it matches— yet they are so far from Thedas, and Leto is so young. What was once familiar feels a full lifetime ago. Easily forgotten. (Never forgotten, no. He sees the truth of it lain across their mattress, in the fixated focus of autumnal eyes as they peer back in stoic earnest.
Young only in their form, not the wisdom held behind them.)
Astarion's expression relaxes, and the hang of his posture goes with it.]
Aurelia and Dalyria. [Sits suspended in midair for far too long before reason settles in, insisting that Leto will want to know what those names mean— who they are.
And rightfully he should.
There's a mulled flicker of sound as pale fingertips set gilded jewelry aside across a nearby table, moving no closer beyond that.]
....my siblings.