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    Summary

    A whimper at your feet as you nurse. The way he ebbs at the corner of your maternal tableau. The flit of an incalescent glaze before he nestles into your houseskirt as if a child caught mid-swindle seeking some kind of sanctuary.
    -
    Astarion finds the idea of calling you 'mother' wholly ruinous.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    3,389
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
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    Kudos:
    224
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