[ Absurd. It'd taken Astarion getting hit in the head with the blunt side of a weapon for Iorveth to even consider that maybe, just maybe, Astarion felt something for him beyond the need for a meat shield; then again, Iorveth had only approached Astarion for regicide on the pretense that he needed someone good at picking locks. All of this is so ridiculous, so insane from every perceivable angle.
Alcohol buzzes pleasantly between Iorveth's ears. It's the fatigue speaking, he knows it: being Blighted by a vampire lord and operating purely on adrenaline for the past few days doesn't mix well with day drinking. He can usually hold his liquor better― he blames the wine for the warming of his blood, the slight reddening creeping over his face.
Stupid. He tries to will his temperature down, to little success. ]
No more. [ Slightly snappish, but without any real bite. His ankle remains twined around Astarion's, unable to resist that one point of contact. ] Unless you want me to bed you here.
[ Stop making him want to canoodle, it's embarrassing. ]
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Alcohol buzzes pleasantly between Iorveth's ears. It's the fatigue speaking, he knows it: being Blighted by a vampire lord and operating purely on adrenaline for the past few days doesn't mix well with day drinking. He can usually hold his liquor better― he blames the wine for the warming of his blood, the slight reddening creeping over his face.
Stupid. He tries to will his temperature down, to little success. ]
No more. [ Slightly snappish, but without any real bite. His ankle remains twined around Astarion's, unable to resist that one point of contact. ] Unless you want me to bed you here.
[ Stop making him want to canoodle, it's embarrassing. ]