[ rand, who had taken the bite quietly, flinches at the first syllable out of astarion's mouth — and is immediately infuriated with himself for it. he can only hope astarion misses it for the uncertain laugh, the attempts at deciding just what to say. of all the stupid instinctive reactions. he's learning the cost of vulnerability, when he is what he is, but not quickly enough. not well enough. astarion has no interest in hurting him — he's made that much clear, is making it clear even as he tries to speak with care — but rand ought to know better, is all. he does know better. there's no safety anywhere for the dragon reborn; and he is not, himself, safe. there will always be a monster in the room, when he's in it.
so he could almost laugh at being called complicated. it is diplomatic. it's gentle, in truth, just as astarion had promised, and so is the question. he's beyond grateful for the offer. it is incredibly kind. there's nothing in the whole world he wants more than to pretend nothing is out of the ordinary.
he says, ]
You may as well ask what you're wondering.
[ there's nothing sharp in his tone. after a moment, he'll even meet astarion's eyes, a hand still pressed to the bite marks, and then shrug. they will need to have this conversation sooner or later, won't they? there's no real reason not to do it now. rand brought this on himself by hearing out astarion's entire explanation about what drinking blood feels like, and then offering his own neck. he doesn't regret the given meal — at least, he doesn't if astarion doesn't, and he's still not convinced either way of that — but he does regret that it had clearly revealed more than he'd meant to. whatever astarion knows now, however vague, it can't be un-known. rand can wish he'd had better foresight, but if wishes were wings. ]
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so he could almost laugh at being called complicated. it is diplomatic. it's gentle, in truth, just as astarion had promised, and so is the question. he's beyond grateful for the offer. it is incredibly kind. there's nothing in the whole world he wants more than to pretend nothing is out of the ordinary.
he says, ]
You may as well ask what you're wondering.
[ there's nothing sharp in his tone. after a moment, he'll even meet astarion's eyes, a hand still pressed to the bite marks, and then shrug. they will need to have this conversation sooner or later, won't they? there's no real reason not to do it now. rand brought this on himself by hearing out astarion's entire explanation about what drinking blood feels like, and then offering his own neck. he doesn't regret the given meal — at least, he doesn't if astarion doesn't, and he's still not convinced either way of that — but he does regret that it had clearly revealed more than he'd meant to. whatever astarion knows now, however vague, it can't be un-known. rand can wish he'd had better foresight, but if wishes were wings. ]