[There's something about the mansion that makes it feel emptier when only Astarion is present. There's more weight to the dagger at his hip, and he feels more avidly the softer calfskin of dark gloves against his fingers, as though even his own consciousness is determinedly swearing that the wind whistling against stone isn't the same curdling hiss of air through mausoleum walls.
Permanence is a hard concept for his mind, apparently.
But it makes it easier to consider what she means— what she really means— when she asks those questions.]
Well now that depends on what's on the other side, wouldn't it?
[Has all the conveyed tone of a quill twirling idly between fingers, crowishly unfettered.]
'Better or worse than Corypheus' seems an easy enough metric of measurement until you start factoring in whether it not one can come back once they've broached that crossing—
[His pen traits off abruptly; curiosity fills the void.]
Do you actually remember all the other worlds you went through?
no subject
Permanence is a hard concept for his mind, apparently.
But it makes it easier to consider what she means— what she really means— when she asks those questions.]
Well now that depends on what's on the other side, wouldn't it?
[Has all the conveyed tone of a quill twirling idly between fingers, crowishly unfettered.]
'Better or worse than Corypheus' seems an easy enough metric of measurement until you start factoring in whether it not one can come back once they've broached that crossing—
[His pen traits off abruptly; curiosity fills the void.]
Do you actually remember all the other worlds you went through?