There are a lot of different Deaths, as it so happens. [A scattering of fickle gods presiding over even more fickle planes: what virtues or vices one extols, their given race or magical affinity or who they favor. Cruelty, kindness, cunning, care— or curse. A thousand different afterlives and mysteries an undead spawn will never see.

(Which is fine, actually. There's a plane where everyone gets turned into formless blobs of astral, ascended light.

How in the Hells is anyone meant to fuck like that?)]

Possibly even some we don't know exist, for lack of personal experience.

[There's a grin in his hushed murmur. An unseen flash of teeth that anyone who knows Astarion could recognize without even trying, owing to the enriched rumbling of his throat.]

And I'd fight them all for you.


[Which sounds a lot better than: 'I'll turn you to keep you with me, if I have to.']