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"You know what they say about what happens when we assume, darling," Astarion deadpanned.

"Well, we are both quite capable of becoming asses. Me more so than you."

The spawn did not appear impressed by Halsin's joke. "I don't want to live in the city. I don't care if you think it is the right thing for a vampire spawn to do. I am me. Not just

. I've had enough boring days to think it over and realize that I need a new start away from the trappings of who I used to be if I ever want my freedom."

"That is a very wise conclusion." So much so that Halsin was surprised to hear it from Astarion's lips. It appeared he had underestimated his friend's abilities to meditate on his thoughts and actions since he was turned. "I admit, I am surprised you would choose to stay here."

"You may be a solitary bear, but I am not," Astarion murmured. He looked out towards the rising sun. "I know I only live half of an elf's life out here. But, as you've forced me to admit, I'm no longer just an elf. I haven't been for a long time. And with that in mind, I've grown rather fond of my new pack. Wandering freely through the wilds as I spread my underground network seems like a good use of the next many years. If I get to spend that time with a willing lover as well, what is there to complain about?"

"I'm glad to hear it. Although, I fear you may be disappointed in the end." Halsin closed his eyes, sighing.

"And why is that?"

"Because, as you said, I am a solitary bear. I am happy to travel with you and give and take moments like the ones we had tonight freely, but my heart is not one to settle on a single mate for life. As I told you when we started this arrangement, even if there is no one else I desire now, I cannot guarantee that it will last forever. I have no desire to hurt you by forcing you to share when that is not in your nature."

Astarion laughed, free and a little mean. "You think I don't know all that? I've had to spend months reading all your dumb ancient books about the nature of beasts. More importantly, I've been stuck living with you the whole time. Your carnal nature is no mystery to me, darling, and I'll thank you to trust that I can decide my own relationships."

"My apologies. Of course, you'd know that. It's just that some partners in the past have been less conscientious when giving their consent," Halsin admitted. 

Those had been painful discussions he didn't care to relive. He knew his relationship with love was not one everyone shared, which was why he tried to nip any issues before they could bloom into something rancid. However, there was only so much he could do when the other party was not ready to be honest about their own feelings. He would have counted Astarion among that number not so long ago.

"Oh, my sweet bear, you needn't worry about me doing that to you," Astarion hummed, gently patting the druid's chest. The hand abruptly stopped. "Unless this is your way of trying to send me away?"

Halsin immediately reached out to steady his partner's wavering heart. "It is not. I would have you at my side, whether as a lover, friend, or both. I know you are still discovering those distinctions for yourself. It has been a long time since I've had a companion who didn't treat me as only a teacher or a bedmate." He smiled broadly, "Truthfully, you are refreshing. I rarely find new experiences at my age, yet every day with you, I learn something. Your creativity and brazenness is as charming as it is alarming."

"So the wisened virtuous Archdruid isn't scared of flirting with the shadows from time to time?" Astarion murmured. He played with Halsin's fingers absently, staring at where they were joined.

"I never said I wasn't scared. But I think that, like Thaniel, perhaps I need some darkness to complete me."

"Then I am more than happy to provide. After all, Oliver was the one with all the fun games," Astarion teased. 

Halsin's heart dropped at the reminder of his oldest friend's suffering. He hated knowing Thaniel had been abandoned for so long that his darker half had needed to create an entire family of shadows to stave off the loneliness. Naturally, Astarion would identify with that pain keenly.

"I only meant it as a joke, darling." Astarion's slender hands squeezed to bring the druid's attention back to him. "I'm as happy as anyone else that Thaniel is whole again. The allure of eternal night aside, there was literally nothing for me to eat in that Selune-forsaken wasteland."

"Forgive me. Although the land has recovered greatly, the Shadow Curse's legacy still clouds my thoughts at times," Halsin sighed.

Astarion shot the oversized elf a stern glare. "Forgive you? For what? Giving a shit about your home, your childhood friend, and all the people you loved who died? The only thing you should be apologizing for is lecturing me about accepting the ugly parts of my past while you still hide from yours," Astarion declared. When the druid's expression remained melancholy, Astarion's fingertips lifted to tenderly massage the corners of Halsin's lips. "Now, stop your frowning, papa bear. It's going to give you more wrinkles, and my standards are far above "pruney old elf" now that I have my pick of partners." 

"I would hate to taint your ethereal beauty more than I already do with my rugged appearance," Haslin joked with half a smile. 

"You say that as if your solidness is a bad thing. Don't pretend you're lacking for willing lovers." The spawn's eyes raked gratuitously over every muscular inch of his hair-covered body.

"None as heartstopping as you, Astarion." A smirk flickered at the edge of Halsin's lips. "At least not in the literal sense." 

Astarion's delighted laughter echoed through the cave. "You certainly know how to flatter a man. I knew I made the right choice in keeping you around." 

"I hope you feel that way for a long time to come," Halsin confessed, cupping the spawn's hand in his own again.

"Of course, darling. I'd never leave you unsatisfied with my performance."

"I look forward to the show."

The year was 1322 DR, and what a lovely autumn it was. Quiet, but just not lonely enough that you could feel the caress of the breeze and hear the rustle of the leaves tumbling and touching each other on the stone path. Exhales hadn't begun to turn into warm steam clouds yet, but the gentle embrace of his tender turtleneck felt safe to Sebastian. He felt home that afternoon, sitting on a bench near the small park where white flowers still persevered against the approach of winter. How he missed the smell of cookies, the soft bite, he thought. Maybe he could write about it. He twirled the pen in his hand, eyes absentmindedly watching the tip move. It didn’t use to be so hard, to work with words before. His thoughts unravelled in threads and found shape in words on paper. Delicately, emotions that carried weight crystallised in verses, touching the heart of any reader dared to feel.

Sebastian frowned in frustration. There was no reason why he shouldn’t be able to write. With such confidence had he left, and with such determination had he pursued. Now why his fingers froze, for the love of gods, he could not tell. Maybe he should have listened to his father, stayed in the line of chemistry and made his time worthwhile, and made coin along the way to take care of his mother. After all, he would have made a wonderful professor. But what was said, was said – he had claimed he wouldn’t be happy then, that his dreams were so grand, and... he had believed every word he said and more, believed in fate, in good faith. He was talented, his mentor’s gaze danced along the lines in wonderment. And in that moment, watching them get lost completely to Sebastian’s own words sent shivers across his body, his first true inspiration – a calling. He had felt so alone, for so long; yet in that very sensation, he knew connection.

Sebastian longed for words, searching and stirring the thoughts in his mind, desperately ending up empty handed. The feelings slipped from him, his mind a blank canvas. Miles away between his lips, pen, and paper stood. Hypnotising himself, following the imaginary trail the ink left as it swayed. The breeze took his thoughts away, and the cold – his home.

A while passed, and Sebastian put his stuff in his bag and got up. He turned to look at the park, kids playing and two dogs wagging their tails playing chase. His eyes drooped as his left hand gently caressed against the friction of the strap. Then he picked his bag up and let it hang from his shoulder. He walked along the side, the leaves crushing underneath his foot. He turned his head to look back at those he left behind, but accidentally tripped over a stone he did not see hidden beneath a pile. He managed to not fall, his hand grabbing onto the strap swung the bag around for balance in reflex. He scoffed at himself, shook his head in disapproval, but kept walking all the same.  

Sebastian’s unsure steps made their way to a crowded place. He paid attention to the stone path, jagged and uneven, watching his legs move and drag him. As he approached, the humming cacophony of the people talking already seemed to aid quiet his buzzing mind. He looked up standing in front of an establishment, the ornate wood rocking back and forth in peace to the breeze where it hung from two pieces of rope, reading The Old Maple Tavern. He looked around and behind him as if someone could have been watching, before he entered. Although his whitened long hair did a good job at hiding his face, the two staff working at the bar knew him as a regular. It didn’t take Gerraldus long to spot Sebastian with his slouched physique and melancholic face. Before Sebastian even got the change to settle down, Gerraldus lay his arms comfortably on the counter, looking eagerly at Sebastian’s face, tilting his head in a friendly manner to better see his features.

"You again?" Gerraldus chuckled, yet not mockingly. "I thought you’d never come back after that day. I even entertained the thought you moved." A momentary pause. "It’s been... a while. Seb. Say, what do you need?" He then stood up straight and crossed his arms, looking to his side to signal another person. Sebastian looked at the counter first, then down at his brown bag. He made a move to place it on his lap, but then decided against it and set it down on the flooring. The strap remained around his wrist, which he fiddled with. Only then did he look up at the bartender.

"I... I have been working." He spoke slowly and breathily, with a low tingle to his voice.

, he thought. How embarrassing to fall ass flat, in a moment of panic when the two dwarven folk yelled. To his defence, he imagined there was a fight, and his sweet escape was ruined, he made a fool of himself with his shriek. His body fell with a thump, right when the man and the woman’s cheer ended. He shook the thought off, his expression gently took form of a frown in concentration. "I won’t be staying for long. I think." Sebastian looked at Gerraldus. "I could have some wine. Red."

The man at the bar smiled amiably and turned around. His hand hovered, reading the labels in consideration as his fingers passed along the options. Then he turned towards Sebastian again but lowered his body in a crouching position. He cracked his neck with a swift motion and cleared his throat before standing up to place the round shaped bottle on the counter. "Suzailian Sweet." Gerraldus said, embellishing his words in drama. "I’m sure our most

patron will enjoy such delicacy." The bottle was dark, the liquid did not show. The tip looked as if it was drenched in blood, in a faint light red tone. Tiny dents circled all around its shape, inspiring a draconic story. It looked – fancy. A little too fancy,

in fact. Sebastian looked at the bottle in intrigue, yet he knew how much coin weighed in his pockets. He looked doubtful then, tried his best to not show his embarrassment in his inability to indulge in that sort of expenditure. He was no upper-class folk after all, although his elegant clothes masked in dirt could lead to misperception.

"Don’t worry." Gerraldus said, to which Sebastian responded his gaze shifting to the man speaking. "It’s only a taste. I’ll provide services more...

. Consider this a gift, a welcoming, on the house." Gerraldus popped open the bottle, but not much air escaped from the tiny opening – it has already been opened before. He poured some in a bigger looking shot glass and pushed it in front of Sebastian. Sebastian accepted this offering, moved the glass between his to fingers to check the consistency and colour. As he was busy giving it a taste test, Gerraldus filled in the minute by pouring a more reasonable produce in a proper wine glass, wider at the bottom and narrow on top. 

The wine tasted

. It was different, he expected it to be bitter but to his surprise, it left quite the sweet taste on his tongue. A bit denser in its texture and how it travelled in his mouth, a tiny bite as he swallowed, yet a syrupy aftertaste lingered. It was just convincing enough on his palette to thirst for more. He almost felt guilty as he raised the small glass to pour the remaining passing between his lips. He turned his head, his face remained hidden behind his hair and his nose scrunched up as he studied the wine. Luscious lava danced around Sebastian’s tongue; an object of desire rare to be found. His ears twitched in rapture, eyelids enclosing him in a space where he was alone with the sensations that surfaced. He inhaled the redolence and tasted the metal. A hint of glass, broken shard, his impossible memories patched together. Reminiscent of the future, he surrendered to the nostalgia crawling under his skin where he never was, and stories wrote themselves. For a moment, everything stopped, he was elsewhere completely, and woke in someone else’s body. He imagined himself happy, sparkling with confidence as he stood before an audience with his arms spread. A smile on the corner of his lips, a slight sense of deserved pride, he bowed in accomplishment. His idols, all his intrigue, at his fingertips making music of poetry as he desired and sang through the words he built his house with. The attention, the applause, the appeal. Inviting, yet... just out of reach it felt, and suddenly he was just Sebastian again as the wine drained down his throat.

Sebastian slowly opened his eyes, unaware of just how long he was gone. He looked around, at the people in the tavern, all those unfamiliar faces and him just as unknown to them minding their own business. He turned towards the bar, but Gerraldus was busy checking some notes on the side, hastily written orders he’d have to attend to. He felt invisible, but he suppressed this reemergence. It couldn’t have been long, he thought, trusting the vision’s time warp. His hand habitually reached for the journal in his bag, but he changed his mind. "

Not here, not now.

", he thought, but took out a fountain pen instead regardless. His flesh was to be his paper where he bled the pen on, a realisation of the fantasies yearning to take form in verse.

For a while, he was tuned out, unaware in his state of dissociation. Unable to track his thoughts, his eyes fixated on his palm, he seemed...

. No one paid attention, or cared enough to. Gerraldus knew Sebastian’s quirks and patterns by this point, and so to not distract, the most he did was throw a few glances over his way as he kept working per usual. Sebastian’s hand holding the pen between his fingers sometimes inattentively hovered above the glass filled with wine, but then wrote yet another word down on the side of his hand. Perhaps only once in a few minutes he bothered to even take a sip from his wine.

Sebastian for the life of him couldn’t tell how many minutes or hours it had passed, as the words on his palm began to morph together and form ideas of their own. Concepts reduced to single units, one after another. He took a sip from his wine, his fingertips tingling at the sensation of touch, eyelids blinking slow. He doesn’t know how many he had. Time felt delayed, his reality, separating itself from all others’. He turned his head to look, then his body from the waist, as if to search for a familiar face. Scanning the interior, while he was about to turn back, his body froze in place and his gaze locked onto the piercing eyes looking back at him. They were distant, Sebastian failed to make out the shape, or the colour. The man looking back at him sat in dim lighting, making it all the harder for his eyes to adjust well as he sat there squinting behind the few strands of hair blocking his periphery. Then he swallowed the saliva in his mouth through his wine-wettened otherwise dry throat. He felt his neck move, and for a second, his ears rose. Sebastian felt his body alert for whatever reason he couldn’t rationalise.

The pale skinned man arose, letting the light brighten his skin as he approached, a smile faintly growing at the corner of his lips. He walked... delicately. Performatively, even, with a flair of grace. His smile got bigger, a faint resemblance of a confident pride as his teeth introduced themselves. Sebastian could only stare at him for a short while, yet it somehow felt to him as if minutes had passed until he heard his voice. His eyes looked at the man with worry, puzzled, failing to understand as to why someone as artful as him would even entertain the thought of wasting their words on him. A hand got held out to him, without the intention of contact. Sebastian watched as the man sat down beside him, to his left. His elbow rested on the counter, the fingers of the held-out hand now brushing against the tip of his thumb as if to be rid of dust.   "Darling, you have been sitting here for so long... drinking... and so alone. Were you waiting for someone? Did someone bail on you? Ah... pity." He clicked his tongue, and produced a soft scoff before he continued. "Name is Astarion, by the way. Shouldn’t go without introducing myself properly. My apologies." 

Astarion’s purring tone at the throat, that slight grit, and the nasality of his voice worked like a drug to Sebastian’s drunken mind. He felt it tingle in his ears, and suddenly all noise cancelled out in the tavern, but that of Astarion. He closed his left hand in a fist, burying the words in his palm, ink smearing between the cracks where they were still wet in the last word written down. Sebastian then noticed Astarion placing a thin goblet on the counter he held at his other hand, seemingly to be sipping on red wine, same as him. When he spoke, his words came out breathy, and with much less force than he expected himself to sound.

"Sebastian." He rubbed his forehead, averting his gaze, his thumb touched the long fringe falling down his face from the inside before landing down by his other hand in uncertainty. He clenched his jaw, his lower facial muscles tensing a bit inside his cheeks. "I came here alone. Not- waiting for anyone." Sebastian seemed to reach out for his glass, but then hesitated and threw a glance at Astarion instead momentarily. He shakily exhaled. "Glad to be your acquaintance."

"Well of course." Astarion responded, with a snarky smile. "Tell me, Sebastian, what brings a lonely darling like you to a place like this? If... you aren’t looking for company, that is." He raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

Sebastian reached for his glass and took a sip. His eyes lowered, distant. His hair fell perfectly fair, casting a shadow on the other side of his face. He shrugged. "Home?"

"Home?" Astarion asked, with a fluctuating tone. He seemed intrigued, but confused at the same time. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting. "Home is boring, darling. Surely you cannot be here searching for a sense of home." A small, performative gasp, Astarion leaned back slightly with raised eyebrows. "Or perhaps you’re seeking refuge, hm?" He then leaned in closer, his face almost at the level of Sebastian’s shoulder, left palm on the counter supporting his weight. He lowered his eyebrows. "I can help you. If you let me." His expression soured, he threw a look at the people around. "This place reeks of sweat and empty words. I know better.

know better." And just like that, Astarion once again sat up, smiling. As if his words meant nothing. As if they hadn’t already made their merry way into Sebastian’s brain. Of course he knew better.

Sebastian’s eyes followed Astarion’s drama as he bent forward and then rose again. He opened and closed his palm a couple times and looked at the words scribbled, catching the elf’s attention at the corner of his eye. "It’s

." He frowned, reminding himself that he is talking to a stranger although the man didn’t act like one. "I’m not... looking for companionship." He downed the rest of his wine, and spun the glass between his fingers to either side. He inhaled and opened his mouth to say something, but then decided against it.

Astarion sighed softly, sipping from his own goblet with a proud smirk on his lips. His teeth were as white as pearls, clearly he took delicate care of them. And his hair, framing his pale face with beautiful curls, reflecting the light off the tips of the strands, resembling a halo atop his head. He looked... ethereal, his words were poison, yet Sebastian was fuddled already. He couldn’t invite, nor could he resist. Standing in the between inebriety, dissociation and reality, he was displaced, his splinters vibrating. Then he noticed both of their glasses get filled, he looked up awakened. Gerraldus turned his gaze from Astarion to Sebastian, a flash of a smile that disappeared instantly. Sebastian was unsure what it meant, he couldn’t even trust his perception to have read his face correctly.

Astarion made a small noise, announcing he was about to speak. "Don’t worry. It’s on me." He crossed his legs, turning his body towards Sebastian. "Sebastian..." He uttered his name, slowly, syllable by syllable. "You look... noble. No..." He swirled the wine in his goblet, checking out Sebastian’s presentation like a critique. "An artist." Astarion turned his face away for a moment, scoffing softly. "Darling, or would I be wrong to assume? Your kind seeks to beautify with

of marble." He said, emphasising his nouns with ridicule, and judgement. "Yet look at you.

away in your own mind, your own creation." Astarion then sighed, his chest rose and loosened as he blinked slowly to regain composure. "You could be so much more, my dear. You are... beautiful, young. Masterfully crafted." He drew in a short breath before he quickly added. "Let it not go to waste."

Sebastian let the words get into the crooks of his head. He didn’t want to believe a word this man said. He did not want to surrender to the idea of him being what image Astarion conjured, no matter the disgust in his voice. But it was hard. It was hard to shift his focus away, to distract himself when the man spoke in such passion; he felt watched. Not quite seen, yet he had to perform, to be what Astarion could see in him. Words decorating his palm left a tingling sensation.

Dream. Accomplishment. Affection. Serenity. Loneliness. Company. Adoration. Belief.

, said the smeared ink. Safety. Unstable, barely held together the lines themselves to be legible, yet... Sebastian knew what it meant. He was the one to put it there, and he was the one that caused the ruin. He closed his hand, his knuckles resisted at first, fingers trembled before he held onto them once again. He tilted his head down, a strand of hair over his shoulder slid forward loose. Their eyes met. Sebastian sighed inconspicuously, keeping the eye contact. When he spoke, he sounded hoarse.

"Perhaps. ...Perhaps I could give it a... chance." He looked down. "I don’t know. I don’t know how to make it come true, to... to live." Then looked at Astarion’s face again. "Thank you, by the way. For the refill."

Astarion scoffed. "Ah, don’t mention it." He said, waving his hand to deflect the acknowledgement. "

as to what to do about it..." Astarion turned his chest toward the crowd, and placed his elbows on the counter behind him, crossing his legs. He scrunched up a side of his nose. "Ugh. It

here. We could hardly hear one another by an hour or so. When it gets

chaotic – people

at each other’s faces." Then he turned to Sebastian, leaning in, eyes half-lidded as Astarion looked up at his face. "Say, dear, why don’t we go someplace... peaceful? Where it doesn’t feel like

are throwing a ball. Give me a chance."

Sebastian’s face softened slightly, he reached out for his wine and held it out for a toast, which Astarion responded to generously. "I think I could do that. ...You’re right. I don’t fancy this place all that much anyway." As he was tasting the wine on his tongue, he realised something. Astarion’s eyes. Lashes casted shadows over them, yet... his irises were... red. He could swear it was as crimson toned as the delicacy he swallowed. He couldn’t look away for a moment, he wondered if... it was perhaps a condition. Not that it would be his first time seeing someone hair of white, and eyes of red. A white bunny. Pure, beautiful. He shook the thought off, and decided not to comment on it. Astarion just smiled and drank from his goblet. He got up after a while, their orders paid for, and held out his hand toward the door’s direction accompanied with a bow. "That’s what I thought." Astarion finally said, content with Sebastian’s cooperation. "Let’s go. There’s much to do out there than in this

place of chaos full of losers."

The breeze was blowing stronger now when they left. As the night grew darker, Sebastian's mind became more disconnected from everything around him. Indeed, the wine also had its effect. Feeling his heart pounding, the blood coursing through his body with such force didn't help his breathing to be an effortless endeavour either. He felt like a prey, like he should be running, but his footsteps followed wherever this man was taking him. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe he should have never accepted the offer, or the drink in the first place. He had had enough, he thought. Sebastian held his breath; he wanted to hear him talk again, to say his name, to hear his own roll off his tongue. He let his hair cover most of his face as they walked. It would be such a gift to hear Astarion say a poem. The memory of its timbre echoed in his ears. This was wrong. To think this, to desire. He couldn’t even tell why his own will made him doubt so much. He simply didn’t know better. The meaning of touch, feeling of another person, being seen. Yet... he was chosen now. He didn’t know why, couldn’t wrap his head around as to why Astarion, someone who looks and talks like him... would choose Sebastian. Maybe his reflection lied to him, his perception of himself warped. Perhaps he had no reflection at all. Perhaps he could become someone, some

if he could just let another person to reach him. He didn’t know better, after all. All he knew was that he was scared. Scared of what he could be. The darkness, the empty canvas turned into a void of unfamiliarity. Until he found himself standing on the edge of possibly the highest point of the city.

The comb the breeze alleviated the tension in Sebastian’s body. He felt it on his neck, his hair brushing against his skin. His body overcame by a feeling of electricity, buzzing his nerves, buzzing his head. He closed his eyes as he walked over the edge, the city beneath and before him, chin raised as he inhaled the smell of home. His land, a sense of belonging. Alone, yet not quite. He opened his eyes and gazed upon the vast sea scintillating with the light of Selûne. He felt something touching his arm and he jumped at the sensation, his attention shifting suddenly. Astarion stood by him, his back poking at Sebastian. He spoke in a calming tone, and Sebastian felt like only he was meant to hear his pristine melody.

"It’s rather beautiful... isn’t it." The man looked almost sad, Sebastian could swear. His half-lidded eyes and downwards turned corners on his lips, the look on his face as his mind were a million miles away. Sebastian didn’t respond.

"I always wondered... how it would be like. To be here. With someone." Astarion turned to Sebastian, his eyes followed later. His hand lifted a bit, and fingertips touched on Sebastian’s wrist. His eyebrows lowered as he continued.

. Someone who could... make me feel so...

. The way it makes one feel when you stand here, facing everything, losing yourself in the moment. The way you made me feel the moment I laid my eyes on you."

Sebastian could not move, he barely could feel his own body. There was only shivers, and the tingling sensation where Astarion touched. He felt befuddled, even more so as if he were hypnotised. Astarion was good — too good with his words.  Too good with his voice. The lows, the highs; it played with his mind, getting drunk on the control alone. How dare he called himself a poet, when a stranger’s words swirled in his head, and when his tongue failed to move in response when it was meant to give back? Fight back in this battle, yet he didn’t want it. He wanted to know, he wanted to explore, to give in, surrender, let himself free, let himself live.

Astarion’s voice made its way in again with a reverse echo. A distant sound, calling Sebastian back to reality, grounding him.

"Darling, are you all right?" A scoff, a laugh perhaps. Sebastian couldn’t tell the difference. "I know how breathtakingly beautiful the scene is..." He smirked, a double entendre, referring to both the landscape and his face Sebastian was absentmindedly staring at. "...but I didn’t bring you here to... be a canvas, a finished project. To be observed from afar."

Astarion took a step back, tilted his head to a side, and ran his hand down mid-air as if he would trace his touch on Sebastian’s chest. Sebastian could almost feel the touch — he felt his muscles tense up to the motion, and exhaled sharply. He looked down as he spoke.

"I apologise. I... I must’ve drunk too much. I... can barely think."

Astarion clicked his tongue and smiled when their eyes met again.

"And to think I out of anyone would be the judge of that. ...

, you know nothing of me yet."

Astarion took a few steps away, and gently sat down on the grass cross legged, where his fingers hid among the long blades.

"Come, my dear. Sit. It’ll make you feel better, I promise."

And Sebastian followed. His posture more stiff and upright in contrast to Astarion’s relaxed manner. He asked.

"Do you...", then he shut his mouth, and looked down frowning. "Why me?"

Astarion made a noise higher in pitch, an unexpected question it was it seemed. His tone gained a hue of concern, yet he put on a smile.

"Why, for your allure outshined all the others, dear." Astarion paused, his fake smile fading a bit as he looked away. "You were alone. And I’ve been watching. I... couldn’t take my eyes off you. You see- you have this...

... about you. A

one at that I must admit." He quickly inhaled. "But it’s not just that. Not to say I wasn’t intrigued, but you are...

. You stick out by blending in. Honestly, I don’t know how you do it." He laughed, showing teeth, and kept his grin on his face as he looked at Sebastian.

Sebastian looked back at him in confusion, moved a bit in his position, shaking his head in slight dizziness. "I... I don’t think I understand." He exhaled shakily, his voice had a trill, and he turned his gaze down upon his thighs. "No one..." Sebastian frowned, narrowing his eyelids. His vision almost in complete darkness now. "...took an interest in me. I... can’t say that I see it now. In myself, or anyone." Astarion watched his face as Sebastian’s jaw clenched and unclenched repeatedly. Then he regained a trace of courage to look Astarion in the eyes again, yet his head sank between his shoulders – a compensation. He seemed as if there was more to his thoughts, yet a mere silence followed.