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."
Though he wishes he could dispel it, Godfrey knows that he likely won't be enough to evaporate his nerves totally. Revealing a truth like this is not something he can directly imagine, but he can conjure enough to understand that he will be afraid until it's over with.
So he watches him consider his options for a moment, staring through the leaf-cover to quickly analyze the figures beyond, lit by flickering firelight, their voices vague from the moment they've carved for themselves. Godfrey sits patiently, feeling his own nerves untangle as Astarion seems to settle more and more into his hands.
"If you need time, we still may take it." He settles on his stone a little more, and for the first time in their conversation, lets himself smile. "All I mean to say is that we ought do it tomorrow morning, if not tonight. I do not mind extending our wait that far, should it help."
Astarion presses his fingertips to his lips for a moment, then drops his
hands.
"...No. No, actually, I think now is an excellent time. I'd rather they
have the night to sleep on it than the day to spend inventing reasons to
kill me."
Is this also a means of clawing back a little control? Maybe! Regardless,
being offered more time feels like charity he refuses to accept. If this is
happening, it's happening now.
It matters little to Godfrey, truthfully, why it is Astarion is reticent to wait. Whether this is a tactical decision on his part, some kind of emotional reflex, or simply a grab at more control. Whether he thinks the rays of dawn will evaporate Godfrey's good will as they do the darkness of night. Whether Godfrey registers his concerns as sound or mere paranoia. All that matters is that he is reticent to wait; this is all Godfrey needs to know.
He plants his hands on his knees and pushes himself to his feet, exhaling as he rises. Godfrey regards him easily, blue eyes soft and kind.
"Then we spare ourselves the wait and speak with the others now." His face... it doesn't firm, not quite. This implies hardness, and Godfrey's expression is careful in this regard. But he does look suddenly serious, before he continues; "Tell me this, my friend, and speak true; what can I do to help ease this conversation?"
"Nothing - literally nothing, just - keep your distance, darling. I
was going to tell you. All of you," he adds, looking faintly aggrieved.
"Frankly, I don't need this to look any more like I've been marched over
there with my arm twisted than it already will."
Godfrey has no wish to force Astarion to accept his idea of help, of course. Not with something as intensely personal and daunting as this. He was here to help, not to push him.
This does not help the way that insistence squirms in his gut, however, that reflexive nervousness as his assistance is rebuffed. The motion doesn't offend him - Astarion has more than his share of reasons to remain evasive and cagey on the subject, and doubly so, considering who was attached to this helping hand being offered to him. The pervading feeling is concern. Godfrey's plan was to advocate for him to their companions, to address their misgivings and concerns directly instead of forcing Astarion to handle them. Vampires are known for nothing if not their social trickery, their ability to charm and deceive. He's perfectly aware of how easily the conversation could get out of hand, and how they might discard out of hand anything that Astarion could say to them.
But also, he knows that insisting and pushing the point would hardly help matters. Astarion has the right to decide his role in this conversation, far more than Godfrey does. He nods once.
"All right. I will speak only if my voice is needed."
With that, the matter is settled.
"I suppose, then, that one of us should return to the fire before the other."
"They absolutely should," Astarion says briskly, and starts closing the distance between their privacy and the campfire before Godfrey can have any thoughts about volunteering.
The revelation is actually something of an anticlimax.
Lae'zel seemed to have already known, and says some things about his scent that he feels are overly descriptive coming from someone with hardly any nose. Halsin, likewise, doesn't seem surprised and Astarion can only imagine he learned it from some adorable woodland creature who outran him recently. Shadowheart has apparently burnt through most of her racism while dealing with Lae'zel, and therefore doesn't care about the predator in their midst, so long as he predates elsewhere. Gale doesn't have a foot to stand on re. an unusual dietary habit to sate an unnatural hunger, and so keeps his mouth shut. Karlach is fine with it - what's one reasonably courteous vampire, after ten years in Avernus? - and Wyll at the very least affects fineness to better keep the peace with Karlach.
And then the question is asked about Godfrey's thoughts on the subject, which has Astarion calling over his shoulder:
"Darling! Please come over here and reassure the masses that I haven't put any holes in you."
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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."
no subject
Astarion looks back towards the camp with a faint, thoughtful frown.
"The others haven't turned in yet," he says, after a brisk headcount. "So we might as well."
It's not going to get any easier to swallow, and he's started wondering if Shadowheart in particular is just choosing her moment.
no subject
Though he wishes he could dispel it, Godfrey knows that he likely won't be enough to evaporate his nerves totally. Revealing a truth like this is not something he can directly imagine, but he can conjure enough to understand that he will be afraid until it's over with.
So he watches him consider his options for a moment, staring through the leaf-cover to quickly analyze the figures beyond, lit by flickering firelight, their voices vague from the moment they've carved for themselves. Godfrey sits patiently, feeling his own nerves untangle as Astarion seems to settle more and more into his hands.
"If you need time, we still may take it." He settles on his stone a little more, and for the first time in their conversation, lets himself smile. "All I mean to say is that we ought do it tomorrow morning, if not tonight. I do not mind extending our wait that far, should it help."
But not much longer than that.
no subject
Astarion presses his fingertips to his lips for a moment, then drops his hands.
"...No. No, actually, I think now is an excellent time. I'd rather they have the night to sleep on it than the day to spend inventing reasons to kill me."
Is this also a means of clawing back a little control? Maybe! Regardless, being offered more time feels like charity he refuses to accept. If this is happening, it's happening now.
no subject
It matters little to Godfrey, truthfully, why it is Astarion is reticent to wait. Whether this is a tactical decision on his part, some kind of emotional reflex, or simply a grab at more control. Whether he thinks the rays of dawn will evaporate Godfrey's good will as they do the darkness of night. Whether Godfrey registers his concerns as sound or mere paranoia. All that matters is that he is reticent to wait; this is all Godfrey needs to know.
He plants his hands on his knees and pushes himself to his feet, exhaling as he rises. Godfrey regards him easily, blue eyes soft and kind.
"Then we spare ourselves the wait and speak with the others now." His face... it doesn't firm, not quite. This implies hardness, and Godfrey's expression is careful in this regard. But he does look suddenly serious, before he continues; "Tell me this, my friend, and speak true; what can I do to help ease this conversation?"
no subject
This requires not even a moment's thought.
"Nothing - literally nothing, just - keep your distance, darling. I was going to tell you. All of you," he adds, looking faintly aggrieved. "Frankly, I don't need this to look any more like I've been marched over there with my arm twisted than it already will."
no subject
This does not help the way that insistence squirms in his gut, however, that reflexive nervousness as his assistance is rebuffed. The motion doesn't offend him - Astarion has more than his share of reasons to remain evasive and cagey on the subject, and doubly so, considering who was attached to this helping hand being offered to him. The pervading feeling is concern. Godfrey's plan was to advocate for him to their companions, to address their misgivings and concerns directly instead of forcing Astarion to handle them. Vampires are known for nothing if not their social trickery, their ability to charm and deceive. He's perfectly aware of how easily the conversation could get out of hand, and how they might discard out of hand anything that Astarion could say to them.
But also, he knows that insisting and pushing the point would hardly help matters. Astarion has the right to decide his role in this conversation, far more than Godfrey does. He nods once.
"All right. I will speak only if my voice is needed."
With that, the matter is settled.
"I suppose, then, that one of us should return to the fire before the other."
no subject
The revelation is actually something of an anticlimax.
Lae'zel seemed to have already known, and says some things about his scent that he feels are overly descriptive coming from someone with hardly any nose. Halsin, likewise, doesn't seem surprised and Astarion can only imagine he learned it from some adorable woodland creature who outran him recently. Shadowheart has apparently burnt through most of her racism while dealing with Lae'zel, and therefore doesn't care about the predator in their midst, so long as he predates elsewhere. Gale doesn't have a foot to stand on re. an unusual dietary habit to sate an unnatural hunger, and so keeps his mouth shut. Karlach is fine with it - what's one reasonably courteous vampire, after ten years in Avernus? - and Wyll at the very least affects fineness to better keep the peace with Karlach.
And then the question is asked about Godfrey's thoughts on the subject, which has Astarion calling over his shoulder:
"Darling! Please come over here and reassure the masses that I haven't put any holes in you."