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[thirsted]

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ASTARION

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[corporeity]

[ a long pause. ]

Ah.
I had wondered. You’re awfully close with him, I know.
Caroline only just confessed it to me, when we discussed the events of last year.

[ he does not say i think armand, lestat, and louis are of a crueller kind than either of us had hoped nor does he have any excuses to offer, on louis’ behalf. he despises the cowardice of it. and he cannot understand it himself. even if astarion were at risk, he would not throw caroline to the wolves. and if gale’s own name arose, he would not offer even the witches he knows little as substitutes for the pyre. ]

I’m sorry.

1/2

[thirsted]

Lucky for you, I never tire of hearing it. And I've the hindsight of knowing exactly how wretched this all was, when weathered alone.

[ He sends that, first, as its own message. Tenderness deserves that space, he thinks — the illusion of removal, at the very least, from the deceit and cruelty this game incurs. ]

It's alright.
I suppose
well, I never asked him about it. Perhaps I ought to have.

[thirsted]

Tonight — can you not save yourself?

[corporeity]

I cannot.
I must name another.
And I can only think of you, when they have targeted those closest to the accusers.

[thirsted]

[ It makes him feel sick — colder than death, facing the prospect of Gale's violent death. His head, sawed from his shoulders, his body placed in yet another ugly display. ]

Alright.

[ I can't be held responsible for what I do, if you're gone. He's too afraid to let the thought be more than just that, lest it will some terrible truth into the world. ]

Don't tarry too long.
The morning will bring what it will.