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[thirsted]

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ASTARION

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[rakta]

[ It is hard, to see his sweetness and softness and not wish to fall into it, not wish to curl herself into familiar arms and mould her skin against his. Matthew had told her that he did not think her nor Astarion monsters, not in the way that they might frame themselves, but she doubts him now - only for herself. When she looks upon Astarion now, so dear to her, pale skin mirroring her own and soft white hair opposing, all she can think is dearest, friend, pack; protect cherish save aid-

Instinct burns her more than anything else.

It is hard, to spent night after night burrowed with someone and not feel the burn of tenderness and affection curl inside her in earnest, a sweetness that entices her as much as it frightened her. ]

It is a kinder prison than may be deserved. It is treated as a - relief. What punishment is here, for blood spilled?

[ The blood on her hands, her teeth, behind her wild eyes?

Gazing at her friend, she presses her forehead against the cool metal of the bar, sighing softly. ]

My fingers hurt. Whenever I touch another, it is a knife in my mind, twisting, as if to draw the memories from me with the agony. I am used to the pain, it is why I lived alone so long, I didn’t not wish to feel it.

[ Her eyes fill with tears, and she gazes at her friend, black hands curled in the fabric of her dress. ]

I would like my gloves. I would like… [ Her head bows. ] I would like to touch you, without harming you with my being.

[thirsted]

[ He hesitates only a moment before his hands move, seemingly of their own accord, to tear a strip of fabric from his sleeve. He's always been careful with the garments he wears, the precious few things he can call his own, but when he sees her tears, when he realizes that he cannot wipe them away on his own, not without hurting her, it seems the natural solution. As carefully as he'd passed her the doll, he offers her the strip of cloth, motioning just the once at the tears that well in her eyes.

Quietly: ] I had no idea.

[ The gloves have seemed so natural that the fact that she'd be hiding something so huge comes as a little bit of a shock — she's been braver than she's let on. To feel pain at any touch is one thing, to subject oneself to such loneliness for years is another. He knows that feeling well. To wit, ]

We'll figure something out, won't we, brave girl? You've friends aplenty, here — someone must know how to free you from that pain.

[ It hits him again — that feeling of helplessness, of weakness. He doesn't know how to help her, can't help her. All he can do is try to find someone else who can. ]

Besides— [ he smiles, tenuous ] —I told you, didn't I? We'll protect each other.

[rakta]

[ 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. ]

I will do what I can. What is possible.

[ A breath. ]

You have my sincerest thanks, Astarion.