[Later, Astarion would learn there was no real rhyme or reason to whoever saw your memories, aside perhaps from proximity. That would explain why, one day as they traveled, in the same space together, Tezcatlipoca became an intruder on his memories. (Though, to be fair, it wasn't as if the so-called god intended to trespass.) One moment, Astarion is debating on going on his kick-people-awake rounds, and the next he finds himself drowning in one of the worst moments of his life...
...You're in a bedroom, not one you're familiar with, but there's much of the Szarr palace you have never seen, as confined to your section as you are. You're not sure why he decided to bring you here rather than the kennel--the cute name for the torture chamber your master or the skeletal bastard Godey would punish you and your "siblings" in--but it could have been as simple as Cazador found it more ironically satisfying to write poetry into his slave's flesh on a luxurious, plush bed.
When you're first brought in there, you don't know his intentions at all. You're told to undress and lay face down. You're not sure what to expect, which only makes the fear in you blaze like throwing smokepowder onto a fire, which you assume was the point. You do as told, trying not to show the fear, sneering through the whole thing, but Cazador knows you. It only makes his vile, smug smirk grow.
You lay down, trying to ignore the sounds of metal implements that could only mean pain is in your near future...]
Closed to Tezcatlipoca; CW: Abuse, torture, body scarring
...You're in a bedroom, not one you're familiar with, but there's much of the Szarr palace you have never seen, as confined to your section as you are. You're not sure why he decided to bring you here rather than the kennel--the cute name for the torture chamber your master or the skeletal bastard Godey would punish you and your "siblings" in--but it could have been as simple as Cazador found it more ironically satisfying to write poetry into his slave's flesh on a luxurious, plush bed.
When you're first brought in there, you don't know his intentions at all. You're told to undress and lay face down. You're not sure what to expect, which only makes the fear in you blaze like throwing smokepowder onto a fire, which you assume was the point. You do as told, trying not to show the fear, sneering through the whole thing, but Cazador knows you. It only makes his vile, smug smirk grow.
You lay down, trying to ignore the sounds of metal implements that could only mean pain is in your near future...]