[His inhale is long. An answer in a sense, like everything has been on a microcosmic scale: the hand across the back of his head, the little pauses and hums— even the expression that he wears is thick with telegraphed discomfort. Nothing to do with what he's being asked, and everything to do with memory.
He knows what it is like.
And though he can't put himself in the shoes of a freed indentured servant-et-orphan reared within these walls, his sons fell close to their respective trees. They are alike. Or: they are like. Like him. Like Kanan. Embedded with the outline of their hearts and all the care that they've been shown, but in that ironic shade of love itself, history inevitably repeats.]
Well.
[Is such a middling start. All old men with no real answers to give begin with 'well' pushed against the back of their front teeth for far too long.]
You're young yet. You may not have to.
[He says, about one of the most stubborn creatures to walk these halls.]
Astarion might change his mind before any of that comes to pass.
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illithidnapped) wrote2025-05-31 06:45 pm
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He knows what it is like.
And though he can't put himself in the shoes of a freed indentured servant-et-orphan reared within these walls, his sons fell close to their respective trees. They are alike. Or: they are like. Like him. Like Kanan. Embedded with the outline of their hearts and all the care that they've been shown, but in that ironic shade of love itself, history inevitably repeats.]
Well.
[Is such a middling start. All old men with no real answers to give begin with 'well' pushed against the back of their front teeth for far too long.]
You're young yet. You may not have to.
[He says, about one of the most stubborn creatures to walk these halls.]
Astarion might change his mind before any of that comes to pass.