Astarion Ancunin

[scrapdraught]

omg she's a reporter

it's Interview with a Vampire

Comments

[haematocritical]

[ hee hee hoo hoo ho ho ]

… [ well it’s at least healed from the swamp! there’s that. twin scar matchies. ]

We needed to put on a show. A spectacle. Show the crowd we deserved to win.

[scrapdraught]

[Oh my god stop stealing her swagger!!

Camille's emotionshare takes on a fretful bent. Something protective. Angry.

Exhausted.]

...I'm sorry.

[She'll reach up to push a stray hair from his forehead. Heart sinking. As with Cazador before, he's been made to bleed and bow. Made into a sacrifice in the name of something worthless.]

You're no one's puppet, Astarion.

[haematocritical]

[ oooh matching.



the exhaustion is a mood. ]

...

I am aware of that. [ he'll allow the hair touching though. her emotions make it perfectly clear why -- and, well. she isn't wrong. he got himself out of one situation where words alone could talk and tempt him into an action, only to end up in another, brief as it was. ]

In the moment though, remembering it can be difficult.

[scrapdraught]

It is. [She nods. Coming back to stay in her family home had sent her spiralling, and that was without supernatural pressure.] Especially when they're fucking with your head already.

[She doesn't make further moves to coddle him. He's not the sort to appreciate it, and prior incidents stay her hand. The urge remains, though. She hates to see him like this, laid low in every way.]

...You want I should fetch Gale?

[haematocritical]

[ not being coddled IS appreciated -- if only because he's freshly healed and feels wrong in his own skin from the effects of the swamp. he might feel a little hunted to be suddenly hugged at this moment.

he sighs. ]

No, he'll be fussing around when he has a moment. I can wait.

[scrapdraught]

Then I suppose you'll have to put up with me.

[She smiles.]

Promise I'll abstain from fussing. Leave that to the experts.

[haematocritical]

However will I cope?

[ help. ]

It's appreciate though. I think too much fussing might push me over some sort of edge.