[Perhaps Astarion is right - perhaps they should have known somehow. They should have searched harder for him, should have done anything they could for their son. His mother certainly would have... had Gale let her in. Instead, in his darkest hours, he kept asking for the help of the lover who refused to speak to him, of the goddess who made him all he was, of the only one who could have helped him - but only did when she found it convenient.
It's not the same circumstances, he tells himself; it's not the same kind of hurt, no matter how he tries to empathize. For all he knows, it might not even be the same kind of familial relationship: maybe Astarion's parents never cared for him the way Morena does, a mother who would fight the gods themselves if it came right down to it. But if that's the case, then who did bring the moonflowers to his grave?
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he finally tucks the flower into the buttonhole on Astarion's lapel before bringing his hand down to clasp Astarion's.]
You seemed bothered before you left. And I suspect she recognized something about you. Perhaps they don't know what happened to you, but they do know you, somehow.
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It's not the same circumstances, he tells himself; it's not the same kind of hurt, no matter how he tries to empathize. For all he knows, it might not even be the same kind of familial relationship: maybe Astarion's parents never cared for him the way Morena does, a mother who would fight the gods themselves if it came right down to it. But if that's the case, then who did bring the moonflowers to his grave?
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he finally tucks the flower into the buttonhole on Astarion's lapel before bringing his hand down to clasp Astarion's.]
You seemed bothered before you left. And I suspect she recognized something about you. Perhaps they don't know what happened to you, but they do know you, somehow.