[ For his part, Astarion is spitting as much as a hissing cat might do if spooked; he's irritated, and he can still feel the cold down to his bones, as if it was some kind of magical curse. He knows all about that, of course; he had felt the echoes of his Master's control when he had slipped down to the basement, and while this was easier to manage... It was still cruel.

He's not designed for cold winters.

Careful with his hair, frustrated at the lack of ability to use a mirror, he glances up at Halsin. If he had to choose a companion to join them here, Halsin wouldn't be at the bottom of the list. He's reasonable, and strong, and nice enough to look at, so that makes him settle into the company easily enough. He'll be safer here than out there on his own, in more than one sense. ]

You're at least a few weeks away from my memories, then, unless you've had the pleasure of meeting my Sire. [ Expression twisting, Astarion looks away.

Cazador... Haunting him, eternally. ] Someone has said that he has Godlike powers.