[ Astarion says nothing to that first part. Had there been someone he cared for, back before he was turned? He thinks there must've been. But if he can't remember them, does it even matter? Perhaps they never meant that much to Astarion in the first place, or perhaps Cazador was simply that good at erasing everything that came before him. Either way—now, they might as well have never existed.
And then the woman begins to speak of something else. A boy all alone in the dark—a tragedy. Astarion doesn't need to feign the blankness in his gaze; he truly has no idea who she's talking about. If anything, he assumes she's speaking in hypotheticals again. His tone is weary, frustrated. ]
In my experience? No.
[ After all, he'd survived night-to-night identifying those who would go unmissed—at least, unmissed by anyone with the power to do anything about it. ]
no subject
And then the woman begins to speak of something else. A boy all alone in the dark—a tragedy. Astarion doesn't need to feign the blankness in his gaze; he truly has no idea who she's talking about. If anything, he assumes she's speaking in hypotheticals again. His tone is weary, frustrated. ]
In my experience? No.
[ After all, he'd survived night-to-night identifying those who would go unmissed—at least, unmissed by anyone with the power to do anything about it. ]