from your hands to the heavens

[Astarion Ancunín]

She moves closer. Attempting to step into your space. Either trying to reach for the dagger you just hid away or pretending to do so. A distraction from what she's actually planning. You might not know her that well but you're sure you've got some of her acts figured out. You've spent enough days around the fireplace to study every single one of them.
You chuckle. Amused. Not impressed. Taking a step toward her because: come, do it, I dare you. Instead you say, though:

Astarion

Familiarize yourself with the savory bitterness of continual letdowns. It shall become your dearest companion.

You know that taste too well. Your eyes dart to her mouth for a split second. Your life's been nothing but disappointment for 200 years to be exact. And - who are you trying to kid - it probably was a disappointment before that as well. But still - you carry your chin high. Now just as much as you did in the past.

Astarion

Try to see the bright side - it's an improvement over the godforsaken filth these little monsters call wine.

You still feel nauseous.