from your hands to the heavens

[Astarion Ancunín]

Astarion

Courtesy. (brief pause) Charming.

You say it with a sigh. Like you're thinking back to fond memories. A life lived full of courtesies. Of course that's two centuries ago and you barely remember anything. Not even your own face. It's there. Still. But it's out of reach. Always. The shapes don't seem right. Something's sitting too high. Something else too low. It's hard to remember yourself after centuries of never getting a glimpse at your own reflection.

Astarion

What's the price you're willing to pay?

You say instead. Fully aware that this is her belonging and your fingers have no right to be where they are. Yet the necklace rests just atop of it. Still. You're wondering why she isn't fighting back more. You know that she can.

Astarion

Perhaps we can reach a mutual understanding.

You don't intend to hand over the necklace.