[Shadowheart. He's heard the name before— from Gale— but just as it was then nothing's conjured from its utterance: it prompts no thought of hair color, no age or race. She is as much context as he can muster in consideration, and that's only because Gale said it first. So ultimately? There it is: one blank silhouette with the words 'Shadowheart' and 'she' etched onto it, empty and unfamiliarly featureless.
He wonders if this is how Fenris might have felt returning to Kirkwall. Met by a story with his name in it, and not a single memory to go with it.
(And if he were objective— which mind you, he isn't— maybe he'd realize that's part of why he's brimming with tepid hostility. Like Ataashi when she squirms and growls and writhes within their arms come bath time, trying to force it along only makes things worse.)
And that's not including his bristling contrarianism by default.]
Eugh. [Sound acting as deflection. The uncomfortable made comfortable through a crinkled nose and the folding of his arms at distance.] You're useful.
Don't make it weird.
[Easy to forget it was Fenris that saved him from the Fade. Fenris that drew him up and gave him hope as something— someone freed. Fenris who protected him, cared for him, followed him. Leto, who he loves. And so it's Leto who warrants the soft mouth, the gentle glances as if they were second nature, sole nature. Leto who finds himself proudly doted on by a dagger of a creature, all sharp edges and sharp claws.
Everyone else, very much not so.
Still, he knows what he needs to tip the scales (or at the very least keep Leto safe), and what the cost may well prove to be in the end. It isn't sheepishness that makes his cattish dismissal start to sink down into tepid acceptance, just a realistic comprehension of that age old saying regarding flies and vinegar.
And if they're risking their lives, he should probably be grateful. Maybe.]
Just focus on getting all those schoolyard lessons of yours straightened out for our resident Bladesinger first, and if you get that far before we have an enthralled army on our doorstep, then I might consider taking protips on vampirism from a fangless mage. [Wizard? Whatever.]
Ah, but—
[His gesture's loose, index finger untucked just to sweep through nothing in midair, indicating sudden thought alongside a modicum of self-awareness.]
You can tell the cleric to visit.
[That's fine. She seems fine. (He hopes to bloody Andraste that she's fine. Someone with the name Shadowheart hardly seems the sort to go throwing arms about necks upon reunion, but then Violet doesn't shout 'murderous harlot with a penchant for making everyone else miserable' from the rooftops, either.)] Something to chip away at whilst you two conjure mephits and whatnot.
[He's checking his nails now. That's how you know he's only playing at indifference, dipping too far into theatrics in attempting to prove he doesn't care.]
Didn't you say there were others too? The last time we spoke I remember you mentioning— [Did Gale mention other allies? It's been an eternity since the man flickered in and out of Thedas like a spirit given form, swearing that he knew Astarion before evaporating into thin air not two days later.] —I was under the impression it wasn't just you and a cleric on our side.
no subject
He wonders if this is how Fenris might have felt returning to Kirkwall. Met by a story with his name in it, and not a single memory to go with it.
(And if he were objective— which mind you, he isn't— maybe he'd realize that's part of why he's brimming with tepid hostility. Like Ataashi when she squirms and growls and writhes within their arms come bath time, trying to force it along only makes things worse.)
And that's not including his bristling contrarianism by default.]
Eugh. [Sound acting as deflection. The uncomfortable made comfortable through a crinkled nose and the folding of his arms at distance.] You're useful.
Don't make it weird.
[Easy to forget it was Fenris that saved him from the Fade. Fenris that drew him up and gave him hope as something— someone freed. Fenris who protected him, cared for him, followed him. Leto, who he loves. And so it's Leto who warrants the soft mouth, the gentle glances as if they were second nature, sole nature. Leto who finds himself proudly doted on by a dagger of a creature, all sharp edges and sharp claws.
Everyone else, very much not so.
Still, he knows what he needs to tip the scales (or at the very least keep Leto safe), and what the cost may well prove to be in the end. It isn't sheepishness that makes his cattish dismissal start to sink down into tepid acceptance, just a realistic comprehension of that age old saying regarding flies and vinegar.
And if they're risking their lives, he should probably be grateful. Maybe.]
Just focus on getting all those schoolyard lessons of yours straightened out for our resident Bladesinger first, and if you get that far before we have an enthralled army on our doorstep, then I might consider taking protips on vampirism from a fangless mage. [Wizard? Whatever.]
Ah, but—
[His gesture's loose, index finger untucked just to sweep through nothing in midair, indicating sudden thought alongside a modicum of self-awareness.]
You can tell the cleric to visit.
[That's fine. She seems fine. (He hopes to bloody Andraste that she's fine. Someone with the name Shadowheart hardly seems the sort to go throwing arms about necks upon reunion, but then Violet doesn't shout 'murderous harlot with a penchant for making everyone else miserable' from the rooftops, either.)] Something to chip away at whilst you two conjure mephits and whatnot.
[He's checking his nails now. That's how you know he's only playing at indifference, dipping too far into theatrics in attempting to prove he doesn't care.]
Didn't you say there were others too? The last time we spoke I remember you mentioning— [Did Gale mention other allies? It's been an eternity since the man flickered in and out of Thedas like a spirit given form, swearing that he knew Astarion before evaporating into thin air not two days later.] —I was under the impression it wasn't just you and a cleric on our side.