❝ another day, another group of these absolutist loonies trying to kill us. ❞ a sigh escapes him — purposefully exaggerated for the sake of theatrics. ❝ honestly, goblins are enough of a repulsive little headache without all of this deranged gospel spilling from their flapping lips ... but at least when they're dead, they're quiet. ❞ the spawn nudges a nearby body, wrinkling his nose a bit. already gone cold — and isn't that a shame. goblin blood isn't especially appealing to begin with. certainly still an upgrade compared to the bulk of the wild animals that make up his diet these days, though he's tasted better. ( and astarion has the privilege now of knowing what better tastes like. ) he isn't jumping at the chance to drink it when it's clotted and stale, the faintest vestiges of rot already beginning to settle in.
raising his head, crimson gaze settles on his companion — and there is something distinctly predatory about how his eyes seem to glitter. ❝ you're bleeding, my dear. ❞ the spawn notes, words all but dripping with faux concern. ❝ i hope you aren't planning on letting that go to waste? ❞ he phrases it with the lighthearted inflection of a joke or good-natured tease — something to allow him a certain degree of deniability depending on the response. oh, he's just looking out for an ally! truly!
... but if there is an opportunity to take the edge off of this eternal hunger — well, he would be a fool not to grab it.
@altrxisme &&. liked for a STARTER.