[There are some people— even in Riftwatch— that Astarion wouldn't dare talk to about this. Missions are delicate things, after all. Glass little houses all their own, and the potential for someone to find themselves perfectly aligned to let told details slip is always high when you're an organization held together by nothing but Anchor Shards and glue and a little soft-spoken twine.

But Thranduil is one of a rarer few. And Astarion's voice drops as he settles against the balcony, witheringly resigned, now that he's out of conversational shields.]

I was sent here to get in close with the Duke and his social circle. The creme de la creme of this sprawling scene. More importantly, I needed to sniff out whether or not any Tevinter agents are here doing the exact same— ergo, no letting it slip that I'm not from around here. Being assigned our dear Loki d'Asgard as my partner, the cover story practically wrote itself.

I'm good at this sort of thing, you know. I've always been good at it. In fact, I enjoy it for the most part. [It's a powerful thing, to lie and be so sure of yourself in it. To know you're the one pulling the strings for a change.]

I just didn't expect it to be so....taxing, I suppose.