[ The other man pauses — so does Astarion. Everyone else he's encountered has passed by without much note, with little more than a smile or a nod, so anything else stands out (or, rather, triggers a sort of self-preservation instinct, an unwillingness to show this stranger his back). Little details strike him as similar to Armand, too — something about his eyes, the shape of his nails — and he's less willing to ascribe them to coincidence than, perhaps, a shared nature.
On top of all that, Lestat's beauty is the kind Astarion has learned not to trust, especially after so many years of relying upon his own to entrap and ensnare prey. ]
And I, you.
[ Truth, if also flattery.
He shifts his weight from foot to foot, head cocking slightly as he considers his next words, whether to try to disentangle himself and move on, or see this meeting through.
With a wave at the hedges around them: ] I could be convinced to change direction. I've been told two heads are better than one.
no subject
On top of all that, Lestat's beauty is the kind Astarion has learned not to trust, especially after so many years of relying upon his own to entrap and ensnare prey. ]
And I, you.
[ Truth, if also flattery.
He shifts his weight from foot to foot, head cocking slightly as he considers his next words, whether to try to disentangle himself and move on, or see this meeting through.
With a wave at the hedges around them: ] I could be convinced to change direction. I've been told two heads are better than one.