[Astarion catches Gale's hand in his, pressing the ring into his palm so it isn't lost again. Once it's tucked away, he'll thread his fingers with Gale's to lead him through the streets of the city. He isn't much for conversation as they make their way to a nearby graveyard, his gaze pointedly avoiding any passers by. It isn't until he's led them to a small headstone covered in ivy that he stops, something catching his eye amidst the cracked stone and vines.]
What in the hells...?
[He lets go of Gale's hand, crouching down before the grave to pull at the greenery to eventually reveal the inscription. It's his own grave, the years of his birth and death carved in faded script. But, perhaps more attention grabbing than that is white flower that falls from where it was held within the vines to rest on the ground. Astarion stares at it, not knowing what it means, what to do with it. The flower itself should be familiar enough to Gale, a perfectly preserved blueshine blossom.]
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What in the hells...?
[He lets go of Gale's hand, crouching down before the grave to pull at the greenery to eventually reveal the inscription. It's his own grave, the years of his birth and death carved in faded script. But, perhaps more attention grabbing than that is white flower that falls from where it was held within the vines to rest on the ground. Astarion stares at it, not knowing what it means, what to do with it. The flower itself should be familiar enough to Gale, a perfectly preserved blueshine blossom.]