[ The boy is delirious, babbling something about favorite songs even as he cringes in terror. Could Cazador do that? Unspool someone's mind without even laying a finger on them? A phantom heartbeat pounds in Astarion's chest as he stands there, frozen with fear and confusion. It doesn't matter. He should kneel. Bow. Prostrate himself and beg his master for forgiveness. But the strangeness of the boy's reaction disorients him, renders the familiar unrecognizable. When Astarion's mind finally catches up with what he's seeing, his first instinct isn't to beg—it's to run.
And so he bolts. He half-expects to hear his master's voice like a whip-crack behind him, freezing him in his tracks with a simple command, but it never comes. So he keeps running, turning a corner to break line of sight and then following his instincts down the shadowiest alleys he can find, looking for somewhere to hide. In the end, he finds the remains of what might've once been a small alley-side shopfront, now thoroughly dark and abandoned. Astarion presses himself to a wall there, not even daring to breathe, listening for his master's slow, deliberate gait behind him.
It never comes. Gradually, Astarion lets himself slowly slide down the wall to sit on the ground, hissing out a breath through his teeth. It wasn't real, he tells himself. Cazador would never have let him run—
—not unless he's playing a very different game from the one he was before. ]
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And so he bolts. He half-expects to hear his master's voice like a whip-crack behind him, freezing him in his tracks with a simple command, but it never comes. So he keeps running, turning a corner to break line of sight and then following his instincts down the shadowiest alleys he can find, looking for somewhere to hide. In the end, he finds the remains of what might've once been a small alley-side shopfront, now thoroughly dark and abandoned. Astarion presses himself to a wall there, not even daring to breathe, listening for his master's slow, deliberate gait behind him.
It never comes. Gradually, Astarion lets himself slowly slide down the wall to sit on the ground, hissing out a breath through his teeth. It wasn't real, he tells himself. Cazador would never have let him run—
—not unless he's playing a very different game from the one he was before. ]