Naughty boy, [ he teases. ] Some of them aren't appropriate to talk about in public.
[ A lie. Not a single one of his fantasies back then had anything to do with sex, save for maybe the daydream of cutting off the hands of whoever dared to touch him. His true fantasies are embarrassing enough, though, that he slips into deflection and provocation easily.
He peers at Iorveth's face, watching the way the lanterns' light dances on his skin, his eye shining. Even more embarrassing than his fantasies then is his desires now. He wants Iorveth to know his mortifying secrets, he realizes. Just as Iorveth wants to see him, he wants to be seen. ]
I suppose... [ The words stick in the back of his throat, difficult to get out. It's against his every survival instinct to share something personal so freely. He half-expects to be laughed at and derided, even when the rational part of his brain knows that Iorveth would never be so cruel. ] I suppose I imagined that someone like you would whisk me away from there.
[ There's nothing more humiliating than the desire to be rescued. He'd felt so helpless then that even the fantasy of saving himself was too farfetched to consider. ]
And I'd drink fresh blood from a jewel-encrusted goblet and wear only silk for the rest of my eternal life, [ is a frivolous addition. A way of sanding down the edges on his vulnerability. All the same, it's true. Astarion is nothing if not vain, and even on his darkest days he longed for nice things. ]
A probing question from the man who wouldn't tell me his greatest desire.
no subject
[ A lie. Not a single one of his fantasies back then had anything to do with sex, save for maybe the daydream of cutting off the hands of whoever dared to touch him. His true fantasies are embarrassing enough, though, that he slips into deflection and provocation easily.
He peers at Iorveth's face, watching the way the lanterns' light dances on his skin, his eye shining. Even more embarrassing than his fantasies then is his desires now. He wants Iorveth to know his mortifying secrets, he realizes. Just as Iorveth wants to see him, he wants to be seen. ]
I suppose... [ The words stick in the back of his throat, difficult to get out. It's against his every survival instinct to share something personal so freely. He half-expects to be laughed at and derided, even when the rational part of his brain knows that Iorveth would never be so cruel. ] I suppose I imagined that someone like you would whisk me away from there.
[ There's nothing more humiliating than the desire to be rescued. He'd felt so helpless then that even the fantasy of saving himself was too farfetched to consider. ]
And I'd drink fresh blood from a jewel-encrusted goblet and wear only silk for the rest of my eternal life, [ is a frivolous addition. A way of sanding down the edges on his vulnerability. All the same, it's true. Astarion is nothing if not vain, and even on his darkest days he longed for nice things. ]
A probing question from the man who wouldn't tell me his greatest desire.