A Little Mishap (слэш)

When the dust clears – and it is a frightful amount of dust, all told – Astarion is marginally surprised to see that no one has been left a bloody smear on the cave floor.
Really, he can't be blamed for assuming the worst. The boulder is the size of the tunnel, nearly, the sort of impending doom that ranks with gale-force winds and approaching dragons on the list of things that might inspire a man to pray to any gods kind enough to lend an ear. Astarion isn't that sort – any god who might have granted him a boon has had centuries of prayers they might have chosen to answer before this, after all – and yet here they stand, miraculously intact, as though some deity just so happened to have glanced their way at just this moment.
Perhaps Wyll is a religious man.