[An immediate answer right at the tail end of Astarion's question, but it's not something he has to think about.]
It was you that was the draw, not the location. I will not pretend I did not use it as an escape, but . . . it will be different, I suspect, if you are to live here with me.
[It doesn't seem real until that moment. Live here with me, not just for a night (nor indeed several nights in a row, as has been their wont these past few weeks), but always. It's thrilling and not all at once— for though he is too used to having Astarion exist within his orbit, the two of them rising and fading each morning and night, never once has it felt so solid. This isn't an extended visit, and neither of them will be tentatively waiting for the other to get sick of them and order them home. This is their space now, divided in equal measure, a permanent place for the two of them to find one another.
It's the difference, he thinks faintly, between a house and a home. He had not understood that until now. The mansion has always been a worthy source of shelter from all the horrors of the city, but never once has Fenris looked forward to going back into it. Never once has he been giddy to wander these haunted halls or return to his carved out little space.
But he might be now, now that he knows someone will be waiting for him. A candle in the window, another set of footsteps against the stone tile . . . oh, and he had not realized until this moment just how much he craved that companionship.
He's smiling, Fenris realizes. Faintly, stupidly, but he is, his heart singing.]
We can bring your things up tomorrow, if that suits you. Magpie that you are, it may take more than one trip, but there's plenty of space to store it.
[Maker, yes; they could house half of Riftwatch here without any trouble.]
And in all the ways that matter, Astarion . . . you are still on your own. [Mm, no, that didn't quite come out how he meant it. Sometimes it's endlessly easy sometimes to articulate how he's feeling, and then again sometimes his tongue ties, his meaning becoming muddled. Ugh. He wrinkles his nose and waves a hand, dismissing that sentence.] You still have independence, is all that I mean. This is not charity, but a choice. And this room is as much yours as the flat was.
[So. There. Unsure if his meaning came across and too annoyed with himself to try again, he ducks forward, stepping into the room proper, shoving his hair back away from his face as he does.]
In any case. I will offer you a tour when you wish. The kitchens are not far, nor is the bathroom. But it is easy to get lost.
no subject
[An immediate answer right at the tail end of Astarion's question, but it's not something he has to think about.]
It was you that was the draw, not the location. I will not pretend I did not use it as an escape, but . . . it will be different, I suspect, if you are to live here with me.
[It doesn't seem real until that moment. Live here with me, not just for a night (nor indeed several nights in a row, as has been their wont these past few weeks), but always. It's thrilling and not all at once— for though he is too used to having Astarion exist within his orbit, the two of them rising and fading each morning and night, never once has it felt so solid. This isn't an extended visit, and neither of them will be tentatively waiting for the other to get sick of them and order them home. This is their space now, divided in equal measure, a permanent place for the two of them to find one another.
It's the difference, he thinks faintly, between a house and a home. He had not understood that until now. The mansion has always been a worthy source of shelter from all the horrors of the city, but never once has Fenris looked forward to going back into it. Never once has he been giddy to wander these haunted halls or return to his carved out little space.
But he might be now, now that he knows someone will be waiting for him. A candle in the window, another set of footsteps against the stone tile . . . oh, and he had not realized until this moment just how much he craved that companionship.
He's smiling, Fenris realizes. Faintly, stupidly, but he is, his heart singing.]
We can bring your things up tomorrow, if that suits you. Magpie that you are, it may take more than one trip, but there's plenty of space to store it.
[Maker, yes; they could house half of Riftwatch here without any trouble.]
And in all the ways that matter, Astarion . . . you are still on your own. [Mm, no, that didn't quite come out how he meant it. Sometimes it's endlessly easy sometimes to articulate how he's feeling, and then again sometimes his tongue ties, his meaning becoming muddled. Ugh. He wrinkles his nose and waves a hand, dismissing that sentence.] You still have independence, is all that I mean. This is not charity, but a choice. And this room is as much yours as the flat was.
[So. There. Unsure if his meaning came across and too annoyed with himself to try again, he ducks forward, stepping into the room proper, shoving his hair back away from his face as he does.]
In any case. I will offer you a tour when you wish. The kitchens are not far, nor is the bathroom. But it is easy to get lost.