[And in response to that feigned, threatening look, Astarion acts at being shaken beneath the weight of it— just for a single, playful second, posture jolting as though taken aback—
Before the subject itself does, in fact, cover the room in a blanket of sobriety.
There, he sips his wine in response, a way to mask exactly just how far his smile falls. Again, so much like the collar, there’s such a flexing of symbolism as if it were nothing short of a blunted weapon. Like an iron brand or a binding leash: Fenris’ master on one end, Leto on the other. Cruel and crude and effective nonetheless— and there’s nothing shown for contempt on Astarion’s part aside from the way his grip has gone a little paler around the base of his glass. There’s more to be said. More to discuss, but—
'Too many people know things about me that I do not remember offering up.'
And that— that is the only thing that stops Astarion from pressing the point outright; a truth too undeniable to argue against, even by Astarion’s own standards.
No, especially by them.]
Mm.
Well I don’t know if I can keep that promise, I’m afraid.
[Another sip, expression grave as death itself. The shortest pause before he leans in oh-so-conspiratorially— gesturing to the creature tucked between them.]
no subject
Before the subject itself does, in fact, cover the room in a blanket of sobriety.
There, he sips his wine in response, a way to mask exactly just how far his smile falls. Again, so much like the collar, there’s such a flexing of symbolism as if it were nothing short of a blunted weapon. Like an iron brand or a binding leash: Fenris’ master on one end, Leto on the other. Cruel and crude and effective nonetheless— and there’s nothing shown for contempt on Astarion’s part aside from the way his grip has gone a little paler around the base of his glass. There’s more to be said. More to discuss, but—
'Too many people know things about me that I do not remember offering up.'
And that— that is the only thing that stops Astarion from pressing the point outright; a truth too undeniable to argue against, even by Astarion’s own standards.
No, especially by them.]
Mm.
Well I don’t know if I can keep that promise, I’m afraid.
[Another sip, expression grave as death itself. The shortest pause before he leans in oh-so-conspiratorially— gesturing to the creature tucked between them.]
There is an Antivan in the room, after all.