[Oh, there you are, his heart whispers. Not a relief-filled cry of shock (no, that was what the summation of their desperate kisses had been, I missed you, I feared I'd never see you again, are you safe, are you whole), but rather a slow exhale. There you are, my darling, the two of them falling into step once more, finding their rhythm and their flow after what felt a lifetime of separation. There you are, there you are, and he dares to reach for him now, fingers snagging gently against the hem of his shirt to tug playfully once or twice as he pulls back.]
I did not force you to flee your den. And it is gratifying to know my investigative skills are not lacking, even after all this time.
[Tartly said, if not fondly, as he gently pulls him along towards the window. Any other spawn have surely fled by now, for the most opportune time to attack would have been when they were consumed with their reunion. And indeed: the rooftops are empty as he hoists himself up there, shivering faintly as the breeze cuts through thin clothing.
It isn't so far to the tavern where he's been holed up. Cheapness is the watchword of this particular institution, from the rates they charge to the quality of ale they offer, but what it does have is a private entrance. True, it's a set of rickety stairs that leads up to the second floor, and yes, that does offer another point of attack if any opportunistic thieves think him easy prey, but at least it's private. He's come to value that, here in this world where he can finally and truly move without notice.]
Mm. Tell me how much you need to sate you for the night. I suspect an animal's blood will be far easier to obtain, but slavers or thieves cannot be so hard to find either.
[He unlocks the door and slips inside without a second thought, assuming Astarion will follow him in. Of course he will. They've never stood on propriety before.]
For that matter: tell me what things you need. We can block the window, for I know sunlight is deadly to you. But I—
[Er. He turns, blinking at the still open doorway.]
no subject
I did not force you to flee your den. And it is gratifying to know my investigative skills are not lacking, even after all this time.
[Tartly said, if not fondly, as he gently pulls him along towards the window. Any other spawn have surely fled by now, for the most opportune time to attack would have been when they were consumed with their reunion. And indeed: the rooftops are empty as he hoists himself up there, shivering faintly as the breeze cuts through thin clothing.
It isn't so far to the tavern where he's been holed up. Cheapness is the watchword of this particular institution, from the rates they charge to the quality of ale they offer, but what it does have is a private entrance. True, it's a set of rickety stairs that leads up to the second floor, and yes, that does offer another point of attack if any opportunistic thieves think him easy prey, but at least it's private. He's come to value that, here in this world where he can finally and truly move without notice.]
Mm. Tell me how much you need to sate you for the night. I suspect an animal's blood will be far easier to obtain, but slavers or thieves cannot be so hard to find either.
[He unlocks the door and slips inside without a second thought, assuming Astarion will follow him in. Of course he will. They've never stood on propriety before.]
For that matter: tell me what things you need. We can block the window, for I know sunlight is deadly to you. But I—
[Er. He turns, blinking at the still open doorway.]
Astarion?