[ perish the thought rises in her throat, the temptation to echo him bubbling within. in the end, she opts for an equally breezy, and yet somehow forthcoming: ]
Perhaps I enjoy a touch of desperation.
[ a tentative, considering pause settles between them. ]
It would be no more desperate than if I asked whether you meant all you said that night, besides.
[ struck by a case of nerves, then, isn't an ill-fitting description of her — much as she innately wants to shuck off such an adjective. it seems so ... childish, in a manner she has learned to resist. another facet trained out of her, like a dulled blade that had needed sharpening. she can still recall slivers of those punishments, the discipline that hesitating had earned her. surely, viconia would likely scold, shadowheart should have shed those growing pains by now.
if anything, she has grown back into them, in relearning and reclaiming herself. even so simple a gesture as tethering her fingers between astarion's own, sliding home like a key to a lock, seems an act of rebellion against the restrictions she's known. a distraction she wouldn't have been permitted to keep, if it led her devotion stray elsewhere. ]
You're not especially known for taking much seriously. And as you've all discovered, I've a history of looking for love in dark, terrible places.
[ in essence, it's a rueful stab toward herself. blind devotion had led her astray, before; she trusts he won't fault her for her initial doubt in the extent of his interest and its sincerity, when her life has been so uprooted by betrayal.
her eyes drift to their interlinked hands, to the absent strokes of her thumb over the dips and valleys of his knuckles. it's a bit funny, in hindsight, that they've done their fair share of dancing around one another when they've both been desperately waiting for affirmation. it's precisely why she doesn't resist gifting it to him when she continues, markedly soft with vulnerability, ]
I suppose I have been careful because of it. But you were ... sweet to me, where you didn't have to be. Another surprise. [ her lips twitch, a smile that dies quickly. ] You've unmoored me and brought me peace all at once. Memorable almost seems a weak word, for something like that.
no subject
Perhaps I enjoy a touch of desperation.
[ a tentative, considering pause settles between them. ]
It would be no more desperate than if I asked whether you meant all you said that night, besides.
[ struck by a case of nerves, then, isn't an ill-fitting description of her — much as she innately wants to shuck off such an adjective. it seems so ... childish, in a manner she has learned to resist. another facet trained out of her, like a dulled blade that had needed sharpening. she can still recall slivers of those punishments, the discipline that hesitating had earned her. surely, viconia would likely scold, shadowheart should have shed those growing pains by now.
if anything, she has grown back into them, in relearning and reclaiming herself. even so simple a gesture as tethering her fingers between astarion's own, sliding home like a key to a lock, seems an act of rebellion against the restrictions she's known. a distraction she wouldn't have been permitted to keep, if it led her devotion stray elsewhere. ]
You're not especially known for taking much seriously. And as you've all discovered, I've a history of looking for love in dark, terrible places.
[ in essence, it's a rueful stab toward herself. blind devotion had led her astray, before; she trusts he won't fault her for her initial doubt in the extent of his interest and its sincerity, when her life has been so uprooted by betrayal.
her eyes drift to their interlinked hands, to the absent strokes of her thumb over the dips and valleys of his knuckles. it's a bit funny, in hindsight, that they've done their fair share of dancing around one another when they've both been desperately waiting for affirmation. it's precisely why she doesn't resist gifting it to him when she continues, markedly soft with vulnerability, ]
I suppose I have been careful because of it. But you were ... sweet to me, where you didn't have to be. Another surprise. [ her lips twitch, a smile that dies quickly. ] You've unmoored me and brought me peace all at once. Memorable almost seems a weak word, for something like that.