Contrary to popular belief, vampires can’t actually smell fear. But Astarion's eyes are sharp. His senses piercing, still. And it’s there, living behind the sudden sharpness seizing its way through the man at his side— a thousand little telltale signs proving it laid bare as Fenris speaks. As he bristles, and recoils, and snaps his teeth at nothing but the knowledge he's been wronged.
And Astarion can’t pretend he wouldn’t be just the same.]
Drink. [He says, his voice low. Almost coaxing, if not careful above all else, index finger pressing Fenris’ glass nearer to him once more.] It’ll help.
And...no.
[If that stings Astarion to admit, it certainly doesn’t show.]
no subject
Contrary to popular belief, vampires can’t actually smell fear. But Astarion's eyes are sharp. His senses piercing, still. And it’s there, living behind the sudden sharpness seizing its way through the man at his side— a thousand little telltale signs proving it laid bare as Fenris speaks. As he bristles, and recoils, and snaps his teeth at nothing but the knowledge he's been wronged.
And Astarion can’t pretend he wouldn’t be just the same.]
Drink. [He says, his voice low. Almost coaxing, if not careful above all else, index finger pressing Fenris’ glass nearer to him once more.] It’ll help.
And...no.
[If that stings Astarion to admit, it certainly doesn’t show.]
So tell me now.