“I’m not sure you’ll want to see the outcome of that hypothesis if it’s tested.” His voice drops to a villainous growl, though the sneer he wears is only as mischievous as a wolf mouthing at its kin. “I don’t tend to play nice.”

Says the vampire spawn that fumbled his first deceitful assault against a face he can’t seem to recall. The one who gave away his advantage against Fenris in prowling dark.

But for all the things that could be said about Astarion, he is nothing if not committed to the perpetuity of his own success. And here, in Thedas, it seems so much more attainable.

“Interesting trinkets, by the by.” Segue made with smooth interest and a few wagged fingers towards those rocks.

Star charts, telescopes, powers, foreign, curious little stones— what an emporium of fascination she makes herself in his eyes.