Autotheist (смешанная)

Astarion watched from a distance as Tav flitted between companions, checking inventory and dissecting battle strategy for the day to come. This was as usual; but as he passed, Astarion saw a tightness around the half-elf’s eyes that unsettled him.
He thought he had the man pinned: not necessarily a soft-hearted idealist, but willing to risk life and limb for a ‘noble’ cause. A well-trained military dog; all bark and no bite. Astarion was familiar with his type from the city; many a Flaming Fist bore that same bravado. Zevlor won Tav over easily enough with a sob story and a plea for help; Asterion planned to do the same.
That was before he watched Tav talk four creatures to death with a cold, zealous certainty. What a difference a day makes.