[ "Gross," Shadowheart wrinkles her nose. "Don't phrase it like that."
She's not interested in the unhinged elf stripping for her, thanks. But the unhinged elf comes when summoned anyway (she notes that he's shockingly compliant despite Astarion's brusque command), and peels off his rather ridiculous puff-sleeve shirt to reveal his bandaged torso. In hindsight, the weird attire should have tipped her off immediately.
Her cringe turns into a full-blown grimace when Iorveth reveals his wound. A nasty-looking thing with a rudimentary poultice plaster slapped onto it. Iorveth, to his credit (?), doesn't look distressed or bothered about the injury in the slightest: he treats it like a minor annoyance at worst, and raises a brow at Shadowheart's silent judgment. ]
It's impolite to stare, [ he hums, which earns him a not-so-gentle tug to his ear. Ow.
"Come back when you have something worth staring at," she mutters, but stops grousing to close her eyes and focus on the healing at hand; Iorveth doesn't quip back to let her focus on the task at hand, staying perfectly still throughout the process despite the paradoxical cold itch that the curing spell leaves on his skin.
After a few lingering seconds, Shadowheart lifts her hand from his shoulder. There's a thin diagonal line where the wound used to be, but she assures him that it won't scar.
"Now please stay inside and try to behave. I won't heal you twice in a day." ]
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She's not interested in the unhinged elf stripping for her, thanks. But the unhinged elf comes when summoned anyway (she notes that he's shockingly compliant despite Astarion's brusque command), and peels off his rather ridiculous puff-sleeve shirt to reveal his bandaged torso. In hindsight, the weird attire should have tipped her off immediately.
Her cringe turns into a full-blown grimace when Iorveth reveals his wound. A nasty-looking thing with a rudimentary poultice plaster slapped onto it. Iorveth, to his credit (?), doesn't look distressed or bothered about the injury in the slightest: he treats it like a minor annoyance at worst, and raises a brow at Shadowheart's silent judgment. ]
It's impolite to stare, [ he hums, which earns him a not-so-gentle tug to his ear. Ow.
"Come back when you have something worth staring at," she mutters, but stops grousing to close her eyes and focus on the healing at hand; Iorveth doesn't quip back to let her focus on the task at hand, staying perfectly still throughout the process despite the paradoxical cold itch that the curing spell leaves on his skin.
After a few lingering seconds, Shadowheart lifts her hand from his shoulder. There's a thin diagonal line where the wound used to be, but she assures him that it won't scar.
"Now please stay inside and try to behave. I won't heal you twice in a day." ]