Astarion pulls a face for a moment - not out of any protest over the question, just because it's never occurred to him to reflect on it.

"It feels like...like I'm walking down a narrow hallway, with doors on each side that I'd be punished for opening. And it never ends. It never changes."

He passes a hand over his mouth, frowning, as something occurs to him.

"I think...if there's any hesitation I have about the idea of a quiet life out in the wilderness, it's that. Things becoming routine. Feeling...trapped."