[His laugh is soft. Throaty. Proof it's caught him by surprise, that question. With his thoughts pinned so far on the future (nevermind their storied past), a jolt back towards the present feels akin to stumbling headlong to a halt from a sprint: dizzy with the absence of momentum, and slower when it comes to catching his own bearings.
But no less amused for it at that, quirking one dark brow beneath thicker cascades of snow white curls.]
Mm, I'd thought about it. [Astarion confesses easily in that far too sincere tenor of his, most often worn in Leto's company— and Leto's company alone. There's a subsequently chasing pause where his knuckles knock soft against the underside of his husband's jaw, tipping it in lieu of a much more weighted scuff.]
If only to keep you safe.
....but [and there it is, a momentary melodic dip that acts as segue and punctuation both, reminiscent of the noble thing he might've been before Cazador first laid claws on him] it was self-serving, that notion. Flawed, to say the least: Cazador's no stranger to murdering his own kin. His competition even more so. And the thought that you'd be strong enough to withstand whatever initial efforts he might've spent attempting to lash out at you in retribution was about as far as that guarantee could ever run.
All it'd take is a bit of sunlight or a clever, paid off hunter actually worth a damn, and I'd still lose you.
[His sigh runs thin. His expression wearies, eyelids sinking till they shut.
And open.]
At least like this there's a second chance if it all goes wrong.
[If I can't save you the first time, then believe me, darling, I will the second.]
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But no less amused for it at that, quirking one dark brow beneath thicker cascades of snow white curls.]
Mm, I'd thought about it. [Astarion confesses easily in that far too sincere tenor of his, most often worn in Leto's company— and Leto's company alone. There's a subsequently chasing pause where his knuckles knock soft against the underside of his husband's jaw, tipping it in lieu of a much more weighted scuff.]
If only to keep you safe.
....but [and there it is, a momentary melodic dip that acts as segue and punctuation both, reminiscent of the noble thing he might've been before Cazador first laid claws on him] it was self-serving, that notion. Flawed, to say the least: Cazador's no stranger to murdering his own kin. His competition even more so. And the thought that you'd be strong enough to withstand whatever initial efforts he might've spent attempting to lash out at you in retribution was about as far as that guarantee could ever run.
All it'd take is a bit of sunlight or a clever, paid off hunter actually worth a damn, and I'd still lose you.
[His sigh runs thin. His expression wearies, eyelids sinking till they shut.
And open.]
At least like this there's a second chance if it all goes wrong.
[If I can't save you the first time, then believe me, darling, I will the second.]