[He's not wrong. He's not, for Fenris has seen and heard too much from the others to ever claim otherwise. Gods, Dalyria alone is a nightmare, never mind Petras and his antics, and yet—]
I tell you now, there will be a time when we are parted, for if an opportunity does not come, she will manufacture it— and when that happens, Astarion, she will bite all the harder.
[This isn't what he wants. This isn't what he's craving, and yet somehow it's all gone sour the way it always does. The bile rises up in his throat and he can't hold it back, not after a lifetime of keeping himself in check. And it's not the first time they've fought, no, for they both of them have sharp tongues— but perhaps it's the first time he's felt himself sink into that feeling, not wanting to and yet paradoxically not able to resist.]
You assume she knows her limits? You assume she cares? As if a bitch like her ever cares about anything but her own sadistic cravings and how best to sate them, never mind how to cover her tracks. How many servants has she gone through? How many times has she fucked her way through anyone she could, just to say she had?
[Not fair, not fair, the comparison cruel and not even intended— and yet perhaps not a shock, not when he continues:]
How long do you imagine she'll wait before she tries? A day? An hour? And all your protective rage will only fuel her further, for that is what people like her do, each and every time!
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I tell you now, there will be a time when we are parted, for if an opportunity does not come, she will manufacture it— and when that happens, Astarion, she will bite all the harder.
[This isn't what he wants. This isn't what he's craving, and yet somehow it's all gone sour the way it always does. The bile rises up in his throat and he can't hold it back, not after a lifetime of keeping himself in check. And it's not the first time they've fought, no, for they both of them have sharp tongues— but perhaps it's the first time he's felt himself sink into that feeling, not wanting to and yet paradoxically not able to resist.]
You assume she knows her limits? You assume she cares? As if a bitch like her ever cares about anything but her own sadistic cravings and how best to sate them, never mind how to cover her tracks. How many servants has she gone through? How many times has she fucked her way through anyone she could, just to say she had?
[Not fair, not fair, the comparison cruel and not even intended— and yet perhaps not a shock, not when he continues:]
How long do you imagine she'll wait before she tries? A day? An hour? And all your protective rage will only fuel her further, for that is what people like her do, each and every time!