[Though the scar glows softly on his chest, the illumination hasn't quite reached the lines leading to his eye - yet as Astarion's finger crosses them, the barest light flits through them, as though encouraged by his touch. Even bearing the orb and without the favor of his goddess, this man is utterly made of magic; it courses through him at all times, more tied to him in body and soul than even he realizes.]
I'm inclined to agree. Secrets just for the two of us, and no one else. Ours alone.
no subject
I'm inclined to agree. Secrets just for the two of us, and no one else. Ours alone.