[Violet would do more than flourish. Violet would adore it, in all fairness. Fenris is right in that assesment.
But there's so much rage in Astarion, prompted by the words collared like a dog, and tied my lead to the wall. A hard snap of eclipsing focus, and the subsequent drag of all his self-restraint as it threatens to give way under mounting, heated pressure— and a lingering draw towards that withdrawn touch, though he doesn't dare chase after it just yet, only stands there facing his companion— his bodyguard— as if better words might come to mind. The ones he needs. The ones he wishes he could will to do their job and ease off every shred of retained anguish, for it's the past that's in the present, now, when he looks at Violet and sees Hadriana's shadow.]
And if you'd struck out at her....well.... [A pause, thin as a razor's edge.]
Doesn't exactly take a clairvoyant to know it'd have gone over poorly, does it?
[The paradox of a question that isn't really a question at all.]
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But there's so much rage in Astarion, prompted by the words collared like a dog, and tied my lead to the wall. A hard snap of eclipsing focus, and the subsequent drag of all his self-restraint as it threatens to give way under mounting, heated pressure— and a lingering draw towards that withdrawn touch, though he doesn't dare chase after it just yet, only stands there facing his companion— his bodyguard— as if better words might come to mind. The ones he needs. The ones he wishes he could will to do their job and ease off every shred of retained anguish, for it's the past that's in the present, now, when he looks at Violet and sees Hadriana's shadow.]
And if you'd struck out at her....well.... [A pause, thin as a razor's edge.]
Doesn't exactly take a clairvoyant to know it'd have gone over poorly, does it?
[The paradox of a question that isn't really a question at all.]