[Of course, given that Fenris can't actually see what Astarion's done, it probably only sounds like disbelief. Like the shaken, unanticipated impact of being claimed in return by someone so utterly vital to his world, narrow as it’s become in these last few months. Broad and wondrous as it seems, too, now that he knows he’s not alone.
And if it sounds that way, that’s because it is.
He has a room. He has a home. Not just in the spires of Hightown, for all that Astarion had outright dreamed of dwelling within its gilded streets, but in the gaps between Leto’s ribs. In the space beside his heart and the nest of his thoughts— there, Astarion has a home. Gods help him for being weak to it.
For wanting nothing else.]
....I do now.
[And like a flood, he feels the words rise high to meet the back of his tongue, welling too quickly to be stopped.
He’s beyond the point of holding back now, anyway.]
2/3
And if it sounds that way, that’s because it is.
He has a room. He has a home. Not just in the spires of Hightown, for all that Astarion had outright dreamed of dwelling within its gilded streets, but in the gaps between Leto’s ribs. In the space beside his heart and the nest of his thoughts— there, Astarion has a home. Gods help him for being weak to it.
For wanting nothing else.]
....I do now.
[And like a flood, he feels the words rise high to meet the back of his tongue, welling too quickly to be stopped.
He’s beyond the point of holding back now, anyway.]