[It's a faint chuckle, accompanied by the sound of rustling as Leto gets back to his feet.
He can picture Astarion right now, you know. The way he lays in the coffin, clad in Leto's shirt and lying atop a heap of pillows that by all rights ought to be shared with someone else. How he twists and turns, reaching for a body that isn't there, feeling the lack of warmth in a space that's meant to be theirs. Lonely and a little heartsick over it— and yet what good will giving into it do either of them? Better to chirp out an answer now and save the affectionate longing for a time when they can indulge in it. Whispering adoration and loyalty to one another in wake of the past looming in the shadows; nuzzling as they tangle their limbs together, hands clasped as they murmur words of affirmation and adoration . . .
Soon, Leto thinks. Soon he'll be back in his lover's arms once more. Soon they'll have another version of this conversation, touching back on all the grief and pain of this conversation with all the comfort of protective arms and nuzzling adoration.]
I walk for miles unending to hunt down a vicious murderer all so I can keep a roof over your head, and all you can do is tell me how irritating it would be to follow in my footsteps.
[Footsteps, steady and even. And you know, he thinks about flirting: coyly offering some little remark about stamina and all the ways which Astarion might prove it. But suddenly his thoughts veer in another direction, softer and more sentimental, and he instead murmurs:]
Do you think you can sleep, kadan? Or do you wish to hear me tell you some tale of the past as you settle in?
no subject
[It's a faint chuckle, accompanied by the sound of rustling as Leto gets back to his feet.
He can picture Astarion right now, you know. The way he lays in the coffin, clad in Leto's shirt and lying atop a heap of pillows that by all rights ought to be shared with someone else. How he twists and turns, reaching for a body that isn't there, feeling the lack of warmth in a space that's meant to be theirs. Lonely and a little heartsick over it— and yet what good will giving into it do either of them? Better to chirp out an answer now and save the affectionate longing for a time when they can indulge in it. Whispering adoration and loyalty to one another in wake of the past looming in the shadows; nuzzling as they tangle their limbs together, hands clasped as they murmur words of affirmation and adoration . . .
Soon, Leto thinks. Soon he'll be back in his lover's arms once more. Soon they'll have another version of this conversation, touching back on all the grief and pain of this conversation with all the comfort of protective arms and nuzzling adoration.]
I walk for miles unending to hunt down a vicious murderer all so I can keep a roof over your head, and all you can do is tell me how irritating it would be to follow in my footsteps.
[Footsteps, steady and even. And you know, he thinks about flirting: coyly offering some little remark about stamina and all the ways which Astarion might prove it. But suddenly his thoughts veer in another direction, softer and more sentimental, and he instead murmurs:]
Do you think you can sleep, kadan? Or do you wish to hear me tell you some tale of the past as you settle in?