[ Two centuries and change? That's probably not older than socks, but maybe older than Moiraine. There are likely better reflexive responses than to laughingly file these insights away thinking by the Light, he is a damn grandpa—
But there it is: old. ]
They do say feeling cold happens as you age.
[ Listen, at no point did he promise, outwardly or inwardly, that as he keeps the door to an open mind propped ajar, in good faith seeing what sort of sum amounts from Astarion's parts, he was going to do so without recurrent heckling. The art of juggling requires balancing many balls.
And it helps, perhaps outwardly and inwardly, to rub out some of the plaintive sting from the shadowed subtleties revealed by his answer. Vampiric children's stories don't really expound on if it must be a difficult or sad thing, for the one who had gone from once living to chilled flesh, light to dark, free to obeisance to strange superstitions like invitations. Even if they pass across his mind, he follows his own personal policy to avoid sentiments that he, himself, would find shrug-worthy to hear: that sounds more than uncomfortable, that sounds hard; that sounds awful. ]
Lucky for you, people perfectly alive who feel like ice blocks all year round exist. You're hardly alone there.
[ In terms of finding companionship for himself, surely. Touch. Repellent for use in shooting down cuddling jests, sure, but in reality odds are he must not find it a dealbreaker. It's just thought exercises all around today. ]
Not such a bad move, you know. Blankets. Bundling close for warmth. The ambient heat of a still living heart, steamy but not sweaty. They pull it off in the romances.
no subject
But there it is: old. ]
They do say feeling cold happens as you age.
[ Listen, at no point did he promise, outwardly or inwardly, that as he keeps the door to an open mind propped ajar, in good faith seeing what sort of sum amounts from Astarion's parts, he was going to do so without recurrent heckling. The art of juggling requires balancing many balls.
And it helps, perhaps outwardly and inwardly, to rub out some of the plaintive sting from the shadowed subtleties revealed by his answer. Vampiric children's stories don't really expound on if it must be a difficult or sad thing, for the one who had gone from once living to chilled flesh, light to dark, free to obeisance to strange superstitions like invitations. Even if they pass across his mind, he follows his own personal policy to avoid sentiments that he, himself, would find shrug-worthy to hear: that sounds more than uncomfortable, that sounds hard; that sounds awful. ]
Lucky for you, people perfectly alive who feel like ice blocks all year round exist. You're hardly alone there.
[ In terms of finding companionship for himself, surely. Touch. Repellent for use in shooting down cuddling jests, sure, but in reality odds are he must not find it a dealbreaker. It's just thought exercises all around today. ]
Not such a bad move, you know. Blankets. Bundling close for warmth. The ambient heat of a still living heart, steamy but not sweaty. They pull it off in the romances.