“Don’t mention it,” Astarion says, the words light as silk— though the look he fixes Ellis with out of the corner of his eye is too focused, too unblinking. It’s punctuation for what might otherwise be interpreted as a joke.
Astarion, after all, doesn’t care to be known for traits like mercy or compassion. It tarnishes. Troubles.
And he has enough trouble as it is.
“Ever.”
They’re even now, the both of them. They can leave it at that.
Meaning taken. It's nearly unnecessary. Ellis is hardly given to chattering about his evening exploits, much less the exploits and actions of those accompanying him.
"Good night," comes more quietly, as Ellis draws the laces of his tunic closed, makes for the door.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t offer to follow— not that there’s much room to be had in a space as narrow as this one, watching those footsteps in near-contemplative silence.
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no subject
Astarion, after all, doesn’t care to be known for traits like mercy or compassion. It tarnishes. Troubles.
And he has enough trouble as it is.
“Ever.”
They’re even now, the both of them. They can leave it at that.
hovers bow over this thread menacingly
Meaning taken. It's nearly unnecessary. Ellis is hardly given to chattering about his evening exploits, much less the exploits and actions of those accompanying him.
"Good night," comes more quietly, as Ellis draws the laces of his tunic closed, makes for the door.
ties it for you
“Look after yourself, darling.”