I’m writing this like the fool I like Gale would. You’ve been burying yourself in those books, trying to escape reality more than usual, and that normally means you’re upset with something.
It is probably writer’s block, or the lack of a good party recently, but I get the feeling that you’re angry with me. It slipped my mind I was busy that day Why didn’t you remind me? I forgot our anniversary, and yes, I could just apologise in person, but we both know if even given a wisp of forgiveness that would be it. And so instead you’ll receive this, because if I can’t feel uncomfortable around you, well…I’m no better than I was a year ago.
I have no excuses, but… when you’ve been alive over 200 years, anniversaries become easily missable. A year will either drag on like a century or will vanish in the blink of an eye. In our case, it was the latter. To me, you’ve simply always been there, and always will be, and so, does a singular day really matter?
It must as you’re not yourself, so I’ve tried to work out a way to make it up to you.
Gale recommended poetry, an evening under the stars together, but we’ve seen, and will see enough stars to fill the wizard’s lifespan a million times over.
Shadowheart said I should take you swimming. That it worked out well for her. As much as I love the sight of you wet, in running water is not so much my style.
After those two idiotic ideas, I was reluctant to even ask Wyll, and on reflection I shouldn’t have wasted his breath. He wanted me to court you: ballgowns, romantic gestures, a thousand roses. If only he knew the scent of lilies and carnations still make my stomach turn. We both know you’re too smart for those tricks.
So, I don’t know how to fix things, but if you’ve taught me anything, we’ll find a way. I suppose what I’m saying is, by writing this, I’m gifting you myself. Not how I used to, how I got so many others to fall for me, but by trusting you with my weaknesses shortcomings fuck no longer beating heart.
I always believed I wanted to walk in the sun again, but now… Now I know I’d much rather stay in your shadow.
For as long as you’ll have me.
P.S – Don’t you dare let any of the others read this or there will be no vacation home this year!
🥹😍🥰🥹 Quivering lips and pressing letter to the heart all the way!
Imagine me and Saulus just like all the GIFs I send you!😊
This was so sweet and unexpected.
Thank you so much, my dear friend. You have no idea how much this means to much and how much I could need this on this very day 💖 Always returning to the rescue when the world (my world) needs them the most 😊 😘 Truly connected in our twisted ways 😄
That is so lovely, thanks ❤Never got anything written for my blorbos what I didn’t myself, besides the cute headcanon from pinkberrytea.
Thank you for this oh so Astarion and us 😉
Saulus stood in the door frame of Astarion’s room, her big eyes underneath her horns, made her look like a lamb.
So, she stood there, puckering lips, while holding out his letter uncertainly.
Astarion saw her, but decided not to see her, and cast his look of ruby red eyes back to his book, whose words he already stopped to read.
“Is this for me?”, she asked with a voice so sweet, and rose the piece of paper. Rose nearer to her heart and into his field of view.
“Do you know anyone else here with the name Saulus? Who else would it be for?!”, Astarion snapped, eyes still at the book.
Nonetheless, he saw exactly how she stared at him, seemingly undecided. Why?
Even though his hunter's peripheral eyes were assessing her so closely, her sudden movement still surprised the vampire.
Saulus was suddenly beside him, pushed the book aside, and snuggled her face against his chest, eyes closed, a smile on her lips. The hands that wrapped around him still held his letter.
"You're stupid," she murmured against his shirt as she snuggled closer to him, breathing in his scent, savoring his cool warmth. The cool warmth of his living dead body and his beating undead heart, which he offered to her once more. Literary but not literal.
"What?! You! You're stupid!" Astarion hissed back playfully and piquedly, before he grinned and looked down at his little goatish hind.
"I love you," she whispered, but with a voice so clear, for him to hear for sure, to know for sure. But Astarion felt in anyway, felt it with her warm body, that held him, without hurting him. Just held him, without asking for more. Never more that he was willing to give. Always content with what she got.
And hell, it often wasn't much, he knew that.
Not just from him, but from many.
"I love you, too," Astarion said softly back, leaning his chin against her head and closing his eyes, his arms around her, enjoying the closeness and thinking that it actually wasn't that difficult to say it sincerely. And with her, it became less difficult each time.
A few days later - Saulus casually plopped down next to Astarion in the chaiselongue and held a gold pendant in front of his nose, ignoring the fact that his eyes were following the written words of a book. By now, Saulus had learned one thing: Holding the book in front of Astarion's nose usually served only as an alibi, so he looked busy and she wouldn't notice where his gaze was really going and what he was actually looking at and listening to. So she skillfully ignored his "attentive" reading and wasn't really fooled by it anymore.
Or so she thought. The vampire knew that she would always remain a little "blind" when it came to him, and that he, in turn, would always judge her as more naive than she actually was because she was simply more kind-hearted than he personally could ever be.
"Here this is for, then you won't forget our anniversary and you won't have to worry about me being mad at you again," the Tiefling smiled and opened the locket, which now revealed an engraved date.
Astarion smiled gently at the sight and her attempt to think for him. Didn't he want to make amends for her?
"Darling, that's quite nice," his slender, delicate fingers play with the pendant, while his other arm pulls Saulus onto his lap, whose hand immediately begins to play with her tail after stroking her thigh and booty, "but it leaves open the problem for me to remember what date we are on. As I said, when you live as long as I have, the weeks begin to turn into felt days and years into weeks. At least when the company is suddenly so beautiful and pleasant."
He cast his smile upon her.
"Oh, that should be no problem," Saulus found a quick solution, and with a grin on her tiefling lips, she reached for a large hand drum, held it toward the window, and after a few rhythmic beats, it echoed from outside:
"It's two in the morning, 20 Eleasis on a dear Waterday and not Midsummer! Keep it down!"
The fine white curls of moony silver just shook with Astarion's head with a grin, as Saulus laughed at the reaction, almost too proudly.
"Or we could just hang a calendar for it," she shrugged mischievously and snuggled her head back against her vampire's shoulders.
