[ The voice is soft, sad. As Astarion turns to look at the source of it, there's no recognition in his eyes. How could there be? Whatever's standing here now, oily-haired and sallow-skinned, wouldn't even resemble whoever he saw across a crowded tavern. Every bit of life has been sucked out of these prisoners. ]
Perhaps I just have one of those voices, [ he says, but he sounds distant, unsure.
"No," the man replies miserably. "I remember. It's the last voice I heard before—" Astarion swallows down the bile rising in his throat. Misery gives way to anger, although the poor thing is still too weak to put too much venom in his voice. Or perhaps he's just too good-natured to, even now, after everything Astarion has done. "You plied me with drink in that tavern. You invited me back to your home. I thought you liked me."
Recollection returns like a slap to the face. He remembers now: a good-looking young man, too innocent and inexperienced to know what Astarion had in store for him. Giddy and excited at the prospect of being liked for the first time. Astarion suddenly feels like retching. His gaze flicks to Iorveth, there and gone in an instant, apprehensive to be perceived like this. ]
I— [ He sounds like he wants to argue in some way, but he can't find the words. There is no argument that will undo what he did. He shrinks a little, shoulders rounding. ] Yes, I remember now.
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Perhaps I just have one of those voices, [ he says, but he sounds distant, unsure.
"No," the man replies miserably. "I remember. It's the last voice I heard before—" Astarion swallows down the bile rising in his throat. Misery gives way to anger, although the poor thing is still too weak to put too much venom in his voice. Or perhaps he's just too good-natured to, even now, after everything Astarion has done. "You plied me with drink in that tavern. You invited me back to your home. I thought you liked me."
Recollection returns like a slap to the face. He remembers now: a good-looking young man, too innocent and inexperienced to know what Astarion had in store for him. Giddy and excited at the prospect of being liked for the first time. Astarion suddenly feels like retching. His gaze flicks to Iorveth, there and gone in an instant, apprehensive to be perceived like this. ]
I— [ He sounds like he wants to argue in some way, but he can't find the words. There is no argument that will undo what he did. He shrinks a little, shoulders rounding. ] Yes, I remember now.