Now all he has is to sit on his hands, regarding Astarion - watching for tension that might graduate beyond the thoughtful knot in his brow, the words he can see passing in his thoughts, like schools of shimmering fish - and hold his breath in the space that's left between the two of them.
Why should he be so nervous, in the face of a friend? Godfrey himself couldn't answer this question, were he asked. Not precisely, at least. He knew that it must lie between Astarion's evasiveness, his secrecy when it came to himself. Somewhere near the constant condescension he felt from him - the way he spoke as though every word he spoke was part of some larger joke that Godfrey would never understand. And naturally, under the ever-looming grander threat of it all; that he was exposing a larger and more threatening truth that Astarion had tried to hide. Dead or alive, this was tender territory for most thinking beings to tread.
Thankfully, his path has been thus far well-chosen. When Astarion does speak, he concedes to the wisdom of what Godfrey has said. He exhales, shoulders unwinding, and he nods.
"You have my endorsement, and more." His hands unwind and rest between his knees. "You have my word."
He does not overstate the importance of this, despite its immensity; to go back on his word would be to go back on his Oath. His promise to Astarion is as good to a promise to the Morninglord himself.
"... I wish not to pressure you, but- with how the others are talking, it may be best to breach this discussion sooner, rather than later. I feel we give ourselves the best chance if we head things off at the pass, rather than let them discover the truth themselves."
no subject
Now all he has is to sit on his hands, regarding Astarion - watching for tension that might graduate beyond the thoughtful knot in his brow, the words he can see passing in his thoughts, like schools of shimmering fish - and hold his breath in the space that's left between the two of them.
Why should he be so nervous, in the face of a friend? Godfrey himself couldn't answer this question, were he asked. Not precisely, at least. He knew that it must lie between Astarion's evasiveness, his secrecy when it came to himself. Somewhere near the constant condescension he felt from him - the way he spoke as though every word he spoke was part of some larger joke that Godfrey would never understand. And naturally, under the ever-looming grander threat of it all; that he was exposing a larger and more threatening truth that Astarion had tried to hide. Dead or alive, this was tender territory for most thinking beings to tread.
Thankfully, his path has been thus far well-chosen. When Astarion does speak, he concedes to the wisdom of what Godfrey has said. He exhales, shoulders unwinding, and he nods.
"You have my endorsement, and more." His hands unwind and rest between his knees. "You have my word."
He does not overstate the importance of this, despite its immensity; to go back on his word would be to go back on his Oath. His promise to Astarion is as good to a promise to the Morninglord himself.
"... I wish not to pressure you, but- with how the others are talking, it may be best to breach this discussion sooner, rather than later. I feel we give ourselves the best chance if we head things off at the pass, rather than let them discover the truth themselves."