[The vampire behind him cuts in, watching without blinking as Leto's unburdened fingers wind cloth around hanging nails (it's the first time anyone has ever done something for him like this: vampires protect space for themselves, and all the mortals he'd ever met before Thedas— ) that hardlined edge to his voice a sign that there's nothing about this he isn't taking with utterly lethal sincerity.
And unideal as distance is to a chest filled to the brim with longing, Astarion's not about to loiter uselessly in the middle of the room while he's rife with ruddy mess. A few short strides is all it takes to deposit him across the edge of a nearby mattress: torn shirt tugged off completely, used to wring the blood from his hair— wipe it from his face, his skin— leaving behind flaky little streaks of dried red; stripes of half-scrubbed pink surrounded by palest white. Starspot moles. Boots next, and when all that's done he pulls dark silk around his thumb to fidget for a moment, fixating on his own thoughts, rather than the moon elf he can't close his eyes to for a second.
So sensation, then. Like a tuning fork or a metronome before a song. Pulling him towards the zenith of all his dread. What he hates discussing.
And never stops thinking about.]
If he'd had any idea I was here, I doubt you would've found so much as a scrap of my existence before now— let alone crossed my path tonight. [Thank the gods it was only Leto's poking about that led to this mess, not the stretching reach of something far older and more insatiable than either of them.]
So he can't be tracking me yet, and he certainly doesn't know that I've returned.
[The best place to hide something is under one's nose, as the saying goes. Though—
ah.]
Let's hope tonight's commotion doesn't happen to pique his interest.
[Still, Astarion doubts it. Those spawn didn't seem like the sort his master keeps— too feral. Too mindless, and yet free to roam. To run. Say what you will about him, but Cazador would never gift something so valuable as that to near-beastly assets.
....they'd be more fun to torture.]
He resides here in the City, but his manor lies farther towards the outskirts. [And no: he loves you, Leto, but he won't tell you where.] I try to steer clear of it, but there might be a little more luck in it for us in that he doesn't care much for refuse; in places like this, we're virtually invisible so long as we avoid the depths of his spiderwebbed assets. You'll want to worry more about his numerous allies tipping him off— and that means no more talk about my erm, affliction, shall we say, while in public.
Before, all your nosing about probably seemed like just another monster hunter tracking prey. Now that we're together, well. [Well.] Anyone that serves him will think you're on my side. Anyone that fears monsters might think you're an accomplice— or an unwitting obstacle. The best thing either of us can manage right now is to keep our heads down and our mouths shut. And like I said: he can't be able to sense or control me if he hasn't utilized either yet.
The man never could resist flexing all that power.
[A sharpened scoff, just before crimson eyes lift beneath lowered brows:]
And without your lyrium, you're as much a threat to him as a kitten is to a chimera.
Until you master your new body and its peculiarities, you'll be even less of one than that.
no subject
[The vampire behind him cuts in, watching without blinking as Leto's unburdened fingers wind cloth around hanging nails (it's the first time anyone has ever done something for him like this: vampires protect space for themselves, and all the mortals he'd ever met before Thedas— ) that hardlined edge to his voice a sign that there's nothing about this he isn't taking with utterly lethal sincerity.
And unideal as distance is to a chest filled to the brim with longing, Astarion's not about to loiter uselessly in the middle of the room while he's rife with ruddy mess. A few short strides is all it takes to deposit him across the edge of a nearby mattress: torn shirt tugged off completely, used to wring the blood from his hair— wipe it from his face, his skin— leaving behind flaky little streaks of dried red; stripes of half-scrubbed pink surrounded by palest white. Starspot moles. Boots next, and when all that's done he pulls dark silk around his thumb to fidget for a moment, fixating on his own thoughts, rather than the moon elf he can't close his eyes to for a second.
So sensation, then. Like a tuning fork or a metronome before a song. Pulling him towards the zenith of all his dread. What he hates discussing.
And never stops thinking about.]
If he'd had any idea I was here, I doubt you would've found so much as a scrap of my existence before now— let alone crossed my path tonight. [Thank the gods it was only Leto's poking about that led to this mess, not the stretching reach of something far older and more insatiable than either of them.]
So he can't be tracking me yet, and he certainly doesn't know that I've returned.
[The best place to hide something is under one's nose, as the saying goes. Though—
ah.]
Let's hope tonight's commotion doesn't happen to pique his interest.
[Still, Astarion doubts it. Those spawn didn't seem like the sort his master keeps— too feral. Too mindless, and yet free to roam. To run. Say what you will about him, but Cazador would never gift something so valuable as that to near-beastly assets.
....they'd be more fun to torture.]
He resides here in the City, but his manor lies farther towards the outskirts. [And no: he loves you, Leto, but he won't tell you where.] I try to steer clear of it, but there might be a little more luck in it for us in that he doesn't care much for refuse; in places like this, we're virtually invisible so long as we avoid the depths of his spiderwebbed assets. You'll want to worry more about his numerous allies tipping him off— and that means no more talk about my erm, affliction, shall we say, while in public.
Before, all your nosing about probably seemed like just another monster hunter tracking prey. Now that we're together, well. [Well.] Anyone that serves him will think you're on my side. Anyone that fears monsters might think you're an accomplice— or an unwitting obstacle. The best thing either of us can manage right now is to keep our heads down and our mouths shut. And like I said: he can't be able to sense or control me if he hasn't utilized either yet.
The man never could resist flexing all that power.
[A sharpened scoff, just before crimson eyes lift beneath lowered brows:]
And without your lyrium, you're as much a threat to him as a kitten is to a chimera.
Until you master your new body and its peculiarities, you'll be even less of one than that.