[ Eyes flickering over his face, Lauralae breathes out a sharp noise. It makes something inside of her ache, burning, pulling at her and making her feel sick, but there's more, too. There's a depth of warmth and adoration inside of her, and she wants more than anything to be in his arms, to be safe, to be taken care of.
To trust him to do that for her... It's terrifying.
Taking the cloth, she uses it to deal with her tears before she hesitates for a moment. Reaching out, careful of her hands, she presses the fabric against his cheek, and then lets her fingers trace the shape of it, blackened and deadly.
If she isn't careful, she could hurt him. But she will be careful. ]
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To trust him to do that for her... It's terrifying.
Taking the cloth, she uses it to deal with her tears before she hesitates for a moment. Reaching out, careful of her hands, she presses the fabric against his cheek, and then lets her fingers trace the shape of it, blackened and deadly.
If she isn't careful, she could hurt him. But she will be careful. ]
I will do what I can. What is possible.
[ A breath. ]
You have my sincerest thanks, Astarion.