[ Astarion's mouth feels very dry, and impotent rage boils up inside him. It's treatment befitting a dog, or perhaps less than a dog; he doesn't matter at all, only bait for a bigger fish in the Commandant's eyes. That's what gets him the most. After all this time and effort, after smashing his tormentor's face in until it was unrecognizable, after killing a damn Netherbrain, he's still just a tool for a more important person to use.
It feels awful. Part of him would rather the Commandant just get it over with and 'take out the trash' so that this feeling stops, but a larger part of him, the desperate prey animal that persevered all those years in torment, would do anything to live. ]
—Well, don't be hasty. He... [ His voice sounds very small, and he clears his throat, willing himself not to be that person anymore. He's not that person anymore. At least, he thought he wasn't. ] He might come.
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It feels awful. Part of him would rather the Commandant just get it over with and 'take out the trash' so that this feeling stops, but a larger part of him, the desperate prey animal that persevered all those years in torment, would do anything to live. ]
—Well, don't be hasty. He... [ His voice sounds very small, and he clears his throat, willing himself not to be that person anymore. He's not that person anymore. At least, he thought he wasn't. ] He might come.