[The puff of air Astarion lets out is such a narrow little huff of a gesture. Go figure the only beast that binds itself to him is one that is, beneath the surface, utterly useless for anything substantial. Not the snarling forces his master commanded, no— a doting layabout, and one that’s presently keeping Astarion from settling in at Fenris’ side.
His life is suffering.
...but then again, at least he’s suffering in good company.]
Ataashi, then.
[Soft, that. Spoken as his hand glides once along her side, ruffling pitch dark fur.]
Hm? The coast here? Only a few times, but not in any sort of decent weather. [Is he looking at Fenris a little too long as he mulls this over? Probably, yes— which is why Astarion divorces himself from her paws in favor of standing up: prowling over towards that rickety table by the hearth, beginning to pour out two glasses of sweeter smelling wine.] She’ll get fat and lazy if you keep spoiling her darling, but if you two want to run around until your limbs start falling off, I certainly won’t stop you as I watch from a very pleasant distance, thank you.
[Glasses lift, fingers curling around their edges; no more than a stride or two and Astarion is back down where he’d started, offering Fenris a glass— with only a flicker of a teasing attempt to play keep away once offered. Just a single, clever little pull before ceding.
Fenris, though. Now that the wolf is dozing, his mind wanders back to it: Fenris, my master called me, and it truly does mean little wolf.]
Fenris...
Was that his name for you? [Has Fenris been wearing it all this time, or was that always his name—
no subject
His life is suffering.
...but then again, at least he’s suffering in good company.]
Ataashi, then.
[Soft, that. Spoken as his hand glides once along her side, ruffling pitch dark fur.]
Hm? The coast here? Only a few times, but not in any sort of decent weather. [Is he looking at Fenris a little too long as he mulls this over? Probably, yes— which is why Astarion divorces himself from her paws in favor of standing up: prowling over towards that rickety table by the hearth, beginning to pour out two glasses of sweeter smelling wine.] She’ll get fat and lazy if you keep spoiling her darling, but if you two want to run around until your limbs start falling off, I certainly won’t stop you as I watch from a very pleasant distance, thank you.
[Glasses lift, fingers curling around their edges; no more than a stride or two and Astarion is back down where he’d started, offering Fenris a glass— with only a flicker of a teasing attempt to play keep away once offered. Just a single, clever little pull before ceding.
Fenris, though. Now that the wolf is dozing, his mind wanders back to it: Fenris, my master called me, and it truly does mean little wolf.]
Fenris...
Was that his name for you? [Has Fenris been wearing it all this time, or was that always his name—
Or does he not have anything else to go by.]