#thepalelfe

@thepalelfe , " turn around, let me get a good look at you. "

and so, when he turns all the way around, nesta examines him, not unlike an art appraiser examining the newest portrait by a self-made artist, and she rises from the windowsill, pushing away from the stone, settling the bottle in the embers of her body heat. " you're... pale, " she says, first, fingertips gently hovering over his cheeks. " almost similar to my own, in complexion. your hair is white, all the way down to your shoulders, though more vibrant than mine, not lingering with the dullness that my patron provides. your eyes... a very lovely shade of red, like rubies, or bloodshed. " 

her fingers find his skin, here, her touch strangely gentle for a wicked woman of the night, and she touches the highest points of his face, her fingertips moving as she describes him. " you have high cheekbones, and so your face makes this sharp contour. your lips are full, and you have smile lines, likely from years of smiling. as for whether or not you meant those smiles... i cannot tell. your ears compliment your face well, they... heighten your face, creating this sharp, elegant look. like a dagger made for equal parts purpose and presentation. "

her hands rest now, on the side of his neck, briefly squeezing as one would press their fingers down for a massage, then moving again to his shoulders, twisting him this way and that. " you have a lithe build, agile and sharp. proportional, if i were to describe you to a painter. i would say you are handsome first and pretty second, if i was unsure of what word you preferred, but most of all . . . you look like you're finding yourself again. "

Words fall short from the ranger. Ashen brows furrowed deeply as he's met with a quip from the elf's tongue. Not surprising, not usual; but it does rub the elder the wrong way in that moment. Forcing a scoff from him as the thought is waved off physically. Clearly it wasn't important. Best it be dropped. Broad shoulders shrug, tone seeping with annoyance, "Oh, never mind."

@thepalelfe ❝ what do you mean ‘never mind’? ❞

But, ah, that's when it suddenly mattered most. Nothing could drive one more mad then being denied answers or context on varying matters. Mismatched hues linger on the vampire a moment. Holding his tongue seconds longer than he should have. Just to nudge his companion a bit further. He pressed again. And there was no holding back his sarcasm. Something to be rivaled against Astarion's own.

"What the hells do you think I mean? Never mind--- never mind, the act of simply letting go of my prior thoughts. Perishing them, really. Because I can't be bothered to tell you anymore. Perhaps if you had allowed me to speak---" there's the pause for dramatics, faux surprise taking his features, "You wouldn't be left on the edge of your seat!"

the hollowness in her chest hurts like the wound in her hand but ... different. this is the kind of pain that does not pass with time and does not arrive unexpectedly. it lingers—an emptiness, like hunger ( raw, gnawing at the inside of her chest as it begs to be felt ). this is the anguish she cannot ignore or push from her mind, the discomfort that pulls her from her body to someplace else.

they are there now, eyes somewhere distant, guard woefully down. shadowheart is unaware that anyone else is with them—a personal failing that they, under normal circumstances, would never suffer. tonight, however, they simply do not have the capacity to care. they have felt loss, but this goes beyond any of the familiar doctrine that was taught in a pulpit.

when his hand grasps hers, she does not move. perhaps, subconsciously, she feels him there. ( had he a knife to her throat, in her current state, she would have leaned gleefully into the blade herself. ) she is derelict in her duty to self-preservation. she is wounded in a manner transcending any physical ailment.

loss. the loss that weighs like blocks of dry clay on their chest, the loss of shar, the loss of the cloister, the loss of family, the loss of self, the loss of his hand around theirs—

his touch catches like fire ( her skin, the flint ), striking a blaze that travels up her arm from the wrist to her shoulder, and then nestles in the crook of her neck. she thinks he coaxes her to look at him, miserable and adrift in all of these profound absences in her life thus far. so much has gone.

but not him. he is here.

in their haze, shadowheart reaches up to cover his hand with theirs. their eyes refocus. a beat, and their breathing evens out. he is the lifeline cast out to them, drawing them back in.

he's ELATED to have a bed, astarion admits inwardly. the ground wasn't exactly the most sublime of places to lay his head, so when the position alloted them a mattress and a pillow, who was he to say no? not that he was sure he could meditate at the rate, the blooming battle to come at moonlight towers waying heavily on his mind. astarion's oggling the shadowlands out of one of the inn's windows, eyes following the curve of the protective bubble that shielded them all from harms way when the quiet is disturbed by nesta's entrance into his quarters. her sudden question poses a challenge he hadn't come to think of in the heat of the moment, and causes him to rise from his sitting position, palms at rest on his waist. " well - " he pauses, waving a hand to the side. " you could just offer your surely delicious self. " he suggests with an air of playful gaiety. " save us both a trip, you get a full nights rest, i get fed, truly i see no downsides. "

SHE PAUSES  at the new pose he's struck, near-amused with his decision. she fully came into this room expecting such a thing. the closer they get to the center of the shadowlands, the more dreary her camp seems to be. her lips curve upwards, and she nods. " ah, i'm delicious now, am i ? " she chuckles, shaking her head. not yet offering her wrist or neck to the vampire, but instead her gaze follows his out the window, watching everything they've passed. quietly, she approaches the window next to him, pursing her lips.

for the several days that they have camped in this area, shadowheart has found this secluded location to be something of a safe haven. the white noise offered by the roaring waters is a pleasant distraction from the cacophony of thoughts inside her head. she comes here to think, to get away from the prying eyes and heads of her companions. tonight, however, she's brought @thepalelfe with her and a bottle of wine.

shadowheart's mostly empty goblet sits nearby, untouched for several minutes. they're lying on their back now, eyes combing the stars for answers they know they won't find. for now, they are at peace with that.