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Summary
“Astarion. Was that you I saw?” Astarion’s skin erupted into an icy flame. A lump in his throat formed from trepidation and anger began welling its way upward. “I- Why would-” He tried to come up with some clever retort or biting snark as his words failed him, but his mind seemingly ceased to function as he fell down deeper into the blackness. “Wyll! Was that necessary?” Tav stopped his playing and regarded Wyll with a dumbfounded look. Astarion’s breathing began to quicken at a wretchedly fast pace. His heart did not beat, but it felt like it was going to tear through his chest all the same.
In which, Astarion and the companions enjoy a night of dance and revelry until Wyll stirs a memory.