[ see, the thing is— astarion probably isn’t. at this point he’s just built differently, and broken down enough in a myriad of complicated and concerning ways that are serving to protect him now, in a situation like this.
he doesn’t warm to people easily! he trusts even less easily! he doesn’t have the tolerance or patience or the room in his shrivelled little heart to love with even an iota of the force karlach can and does, as easily as breathing. “i don’t even remember what that is”, he’s thought more than once.
it might be a bit of a lie. because maybe he gets it, just a little. and maybe it’s limited and a pale shadow of what it could be, slow and scattered. but he does know he’s better than he was when he was snatched up in baldur’s gate, and not just because cazador’s fucking dead now. and maybe it’s limited to a number he can count on one hand, but that’s one hand more than he could’ve before.
it’s awful. it’s like someone cracked him open and peeled the skin back from his ribs and shone a stage light on him.
but it’s also why he’s the one to reach out for once, take karlach’s hand and squeeze it tightly. ]
[ it's fucking awful. everything is fucking awful and torn to shreds and every day seems worse than the last.
he doesn't want to be a burden, to stretch these people any further. he is worried they will break, and it will be his fault - again. but it seems worth something that here, at the end of everything, they are all together. he didn't have that before, when he'd first gotten the orb. no one was there at all. it feels somehow like he's still managed something. if he is to die, at least it is with these people he loves.
sitting down on her other side to take her other hand in both of his, squeezing. ]
[it isn't that she's surprised, so much, that astarion takes her hand - it's a little unexpected, but she doesn't mind. of course she doesn't. she thrives off little touches like this, the way that someone holding onto her makes her feel alive. it's even better when it's those who don't like to touch, don't like to be close. it means they trust her, and that's all she ever wants.
that's all she wants both of them to do. trust her. rely on her. and know that whatever it is, whatever they do, wherever they end up, she's with them.
so when astarion takes her hand, and gale comes in to take the other, she laces her fingers with both of them and keeps them close.]
... Love you both. [she says, quietly, with no expectation that they'll say it back. it just seems important that they know.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
he doesn’t warm to people easily! he trusts even less easily! he doesn’t have the tolerance or patience or the room in his shrivelled little heart to love with even an iota of the force karlach can and does, as easily as breathing. “i don’t even remember what that is”, he’s thought more than once.
it might be a bit of a lie. because maybe he gets it, just a little. and maybe it’s limited and a pale shadow of what it could be, slow and scattered. but he does know he’s better than he was when he was snatched up in baldur’s gate, and not just because cazador’s fucking dead now. and maybe it’s limited to a number he can count on one hand, but that’s one hand more than he could’ve before.
it’s awful. it’s like someone cracked him open and peeled the skin back from his ribs and shone a stage light on him.
but it’s also why he’s the one to reach out for once, take karlach’s hand and squeeze it tightly. ]
no subject
he doesn't want to be a burden, to stretch these people any further. he is worried they will break, and it will be his fault - again. but it seems worth something that here, at the end of everything, they are all together. he didn't have that before, when he'd first gotten the orb. no one was there at all. it feels somehow like he's still managed something. if he is to die, at least it is with these people he loves.
sitting down on her other side to take her other hand in both of his, squeezing. ]
no subject
that's all she wants both of them to do. trust her. rely on her. and know that whatever it is, whatever they do, wherever they end up, she's with them.
so when astarion takes her hand, and gale comes in to take the other, she laces her fingers with both of them and keeps them close.]
... Love you both. [she says, quietly, with no expectation that they'll say it back. it just seems important that they know.]
no subject