* ICARUS / FELL !

     "If thee or thy companions perish on thy treacherous path, I shalt repair the broken thread of fate." A slow hand rose as he spoke, drifting across the wind with curling digits, as if pulling on something beyond the visible eye. It was strange.

❝ Ma blood may nae be all that guid, Astarion, ah drink too much rum. ❞ He grinned, his freckled face lighting up as he bundled his hair up into a messy bun upon the top of his head.

He craned his head to reveal his freckled neck.

❝ But here ya go, ah ken yer hungry ah see it in yer eyes. Drink but dinna kill me, ye hear? Ah've been drinkin' lots of water too ( rum ) so there should be plenty. ❞ He tapped the side of his neck.

❝ Dinna fash yerself, yer bites tickle me. ❞

confusion paints across his face , cheeks flushing ever so slightly as the minimal blood in his system courses through his veins . brows raise at @oakthcrn , caught without words for one of the few times in his life . " ah ... rum actually adds a touch of spice to the blood... " the lie spills from his lips without a thought . he's never had blood tainted by alcohol , but admitting that feels wrong . he wants to hold onto some semblance of pride .

still ! she wiggles her way up the hefty ruins overlooking city - for a moment, the entirety of the realm draws quiet. people below simply living ... parents and their children, passing traders and adventurers, guards swapping shifts while cats hunt their late night snack. one of the few cities she had yet to see, even trailing father's coattails after the death of her mother. she wonders how much of it was delegating perilous routes to others versus how much of was actual fate. not that it matters now - she'll see baldur's gate and write her father about it. he'll tell her she should consider coming home for awhile.

he'll tell her that her roses are wilting and her staff isn't throwing anything for the crows. and she'll perhaps consider it, teeter on believing him. (but home is a sore spot, no matter how she decorates or manipulates spaces - there's a ghost there that she cannot simply face.)

it's odd , truly , just how much he's grown to trust those around him . perhaps it had been the promise of keeping him from cazador's clutches but anyone could have promised that . but these people ? oh these people ... he believes that they just might be able to make it happen . but that doesn't mean he trusts the parasite or the visitor that's invaded their sleep . hasn't he had enough of strange men worming their way into his life to force him to do their bidding ? it's his master in a more fitting body ... the monster he should be. but the spawn doesn't dare speak that out loud , doesn't dare think it too long because who knows how much of his thought the emperor can hear . he's just ready to be free of it .

though he can't find loneliness , he can't help but flee to the tip of the ruins , legs hooked over the ledge as he sits , statuesque in stillness as eyes of flame lock on the picturesque skyline of home . home . he'd thought he'd never return . that he'd either find death on the road or he'd run far enough that cazador's influence could never reach him . but here he is , eyes lingering on the peaks of a castle he'd spent hundreds of years trying to escape . he's walking right back into the lion's den ... and he can only hope that his trust isn't misplaced .

he's long since given up on prayer . there had been a time he'd tried to appeal to deities , a time when he'd thought he could garner enough favor to escape the worst of his life . but all he'd gotten was silence . he'd watched as those in the streets of baldur's gate were blessed and chosen while he was ignored and forgotten , left to feed in the sewers . it hadn't been fair . and , yet , nothing about it had surprised him .

❝... Your words are as sweet as honey, and your tongue sharp. There is more to the story than what you are sharing.❞ They speak bluntly, light azure gaze studying the pale elf before taking slow steps closer and closer until they are a mere breathe away. ❝Do you mind sharing?❞

honeyed words are his specialty . they drip from tainted tongue , poison laced and sweet . he spins a tale , a story he wants believed no matter the distrust that rises from the other . there's far too much risk in letting anyone any closer . he knows not what they know of baldur's gate or cazador . there is always the chance that in the shadows he's taken something from them and if he reveals too much he could find himself at the business end of a stake .