( Not for the first time, Haelva finds herself grateful that she's not alone here, that it's Astarion of all people who is here with her. He might not know her, or remember her, but he does understand on some level.

It lets her feel as if being vulnerable around him is not truly the inherently dangerous thing it is. And anyway, she's exceptionally good at murder, should he try anything. )

Mm, thank you. No use making it more damaged than it already is. ( She leans against him as they walk, slowly getting more steady as her body adjusts to the lack of blood. Confident enough she doesn't need him to tuck her into bed, Haelva slides into one of the carved alcoves, resting on the provided bedding with a soft sound of surprise. ) Gods, I can't remember the last time I slept in a bed; not including the cult I must have found myself in upon arrival. It's surprisingly comfortable for something made out of stone.