from your hands to the heavens

[Astarion Ancunín]

She's not willing to part with either her coin nor the necklace hanging around her neck.

Astarion

What a pity.

Your voice sounding as much disappointed as it doesn't. You've perfected this version of you who can pretend yet at the same time tell the truth. It's just that no one knows. No one but you. And even you sometimes aren't sure how much of what you're saying, thinking, doing is real and how much is someone else. What you do know for certain, though, as saddening as it is, is: you don't know the man you used to be. Everything that made you is gone. The faces of your parents just blurred colors. The life you must've lived out of reach. No matter how deep you try to mediate. Which is one of the many reasons you don't dare to anymore.
Or used to.
With how insane your lifestyle has gotten in the past tendays it's hard not to get some rest after a long days march or fighting yet another horde of creatures you'd rather not touch if you had the choice. Even now you're disgusted by all the goblin blood that tainted your skin. Hopefully that won't end in a rash.

Astarion

Well in that case I shall bid you good luck.

Tucking away the dagger for someone who'll be willing to pay the 200 coin - or even more. You should try it at the Grove. With the news of all goblins slain they should be in a good enough mood to spend a little more than they usually would. After all you're the hero here, right?

Astarion

Your chances of accomplishment seem rather slim.

Lifting your chin just a bit. Amused features on your face. Almost delighted. In a dark and twisted way. Thinking to yourself that you'll be quicker than her. (You haven been quicker now too. She just happened to snatch the dagger from your hands.)