[The first, he says, and something about hearing it again— said with such decisive certainty— eases off a little of the ever-nagging paranoia that boils in the farthest reaches of Astarion’s own mind.
But...
First awoke sounds different than now, he thinks, with all of Tevinter at Corypheus' side and an army that grows by the day— tainted with vanity and bloody lyrium alike.
His lips thin into a flattened line; he isn’t looking at Fenris anymore.]
no subject
But...
First awoke sounds different than now, he thinks, with all of Tevinter at Corypheus' side and an army that grows by the day— tainted with vanity and bloody lyrium alike.
His lips thin into a flattened line; he isn’t looking at Fenris anymore.]
What about you?
[Does he blame himself?
Does he blame her?]