His eyes dart over to him with a tension still caught in his muscles. Astarion was still on edge.
“I suppose every day is a long one when you don’t sleep,” he said with a huff, resting his hands on his knees. He was in a mood.
“ long day ? ” breeze carrying voice as shrouded figure emerges from the wilderness off to the side , carrying a basket — he had been foraging , returning with quite the handfuls of blackberries .
“I’m always hungry,” he said as he rested his head in his hands, chin laying on delicate palms.
A werewolf. He’s more likely to panic if he knew that. He’d never met a werewolf in the flesh before.
“But I won’t starve.”
A cornered animal up against a werewolf- Though, Astarion hardly knew. Hardly knew about the bite on his arm, the way the moon changed him..
" .. Well, " He began, careful. " Is there anything troubling you? Hungry, or perhaps just thinking on something? I'm happy to listen. "
“You — really?”
Astarion still wasn’t used to people just… offering to do things for him. But he didn’t pass them up on the offer.
“Alright, then.”
He sat down on a nearby rock, watching them carefully.
https://t.co/9TSM2moEtT vincent is a demisexual , achillean gay man . he is not a publicly sexual creature , and really only saves any displays for his significant other . affection is also mostly for his significant other , which is why i didn't do the kiss bandwagons .
“Unique set of circumstances? Why yes, I think you have a point there. Sleeping out in the elements is certainly not a life I am accustomed to.”
No… he was used to far worse. Though that was not information he would willingly share.
Astarion looks back at him like a cornered animal. These sort of conversations… the brutal ones. Honest ones.
They did not come easily to the vampire spawn.
“I suppose we can, though I don’t know what you expect to get out of me.”
" No, but.. You looked distant. I understand you'll be in camp today, so.. I-I thought we could talk? "
He's stepped into the light at this point, brows furrowed into obvious concern. His mouth opens, then closes as he finds the words missing.
“Me? Wearing myself thin! Of course not,” he says with a feigned laugh, looking away.
“I barely need to lift a finger. Why would I be wearing myself thin?”
He looks at them with those tired eyes, bags puffy and apparent. Astarion forces a smile to his lips, grabbing supplies to set up quietly.
“I suppose, though — are you sure you can’t convince someone else to do it? I wouldn’t want to break a nail.”
He jumps at the sound, scared back against the post of his ragged, would-be tent.
But then in a moment, he is back to normal. A facade.
“Never better. Something troubling you?”
he’s running a pair of thin hands through snowy hair, stretching in the light of the sun.
but… his eyes are tired, and he looks as though his mind is worlds away.
“Gold and a nail file? You spoil me, darling.”
He takes the nail file and begins to detail his fingernails, humming and happy to indulge in a little vanity.