[Astarion's entire world feels fuzzy and out of focus once his tears are gone. His eyes burn. His throat is raw. His face is a mess, he's sure. But he doesn't want Gale to leave all the same. When Gale pulls away he reaches after him, his movements sluggish.]
Wait—
[The word is a fractured, broken thing. Not unlike Astarion himself. But once he realizes what Gale's doing he scoffs quietly, even as he rests himself against Gale's warmth again.]
no subject
Wait—
[The word is a fractured, broken thing. Not unlike Astarion himself. But once he realizes what Gale's doing he scoffs quietly, even as he rests himself against Gale's warmth again.]
Your robes are all wet, dearest.