The disbelief is understandable, how could a creature like Astarion understand that sort of loyalty when not brought on by fear or necessity? But the bitterness burns through and into her skin, shivering underneath her shoulders to creep up and back out through bared teeth in a hushed growl—not a human's, but something Other.
Her voice is colder than the chill of her gaze. Something too old to have a single name stirs behind the frigid stare, tap-tapping at the frosted ice. ]
I want you to understand that the only reason you are being granted any leniency now is because you did not inflict more harm upon him.
[ While she has been taking it easy on the vampire given the true depth of her fury, no matter what he thinks of it, she is loathe to use methods related to the likes of Cazador ever again. It is beneath her.
Her voice softens with the whisper. ]
Can you follow, Astarion? Keep up. Think on the poem.
[ Her gaze on him now could be slightly mesmerizing for some, especially the supernatural sort of beings, but then it isn't anything like a spell or even something she controls. It's merely her will—merely its presence. It doesn't want anything but his awareness.
Pay attention. ]
I am willing to grant you a reprieve if you are willing to better control your urges in the future.
no subject
The disbelief is understandable, how could a creature like Astarion understand that sort of loyalty when not brought on by fear or necessity? But the bitterness burns through and into her skin, shivering underneath her shoulders to creep up and back out through bared teeth in a hushed growl—not a human's, but something Other.
Her voice is colder than the chill of her gaze. Something too old to have a single name stirs behind the frigid stare, tap-tapping at the frosted ice. ]
I want you to understand that the only reason you are being granted any leniency now is because you did not inflict more harm upon him.
[ While she has been taking it easy on the vampire given the true depth of her fury, no matter what he thinks of it, she is loathe to use methods related to the likes of Cazador ever again. It is beneath her.
Her voice softens with the whisper. ]
Can you follow, Astarion? Keep up. Think on the poem.
[ Her gaze on him now could be slightly mesmerizing for some, especially the supernatural sort of beings, but then it isn't anything like a spell or even something she controls. It's merely her will—merely its presence. It doesn't want anything but his awareness.
Pay attention. ]
I am willing to grant you a reprieve if you are willing to better control your urges in the future.