essea: (1.)
ɪᴏʀᴠᴇᴛʜ. ([personal profile] essea) wrote 2024-12-02 01:23 am (UTC)

[ There is no friend: only a tall one-eyed elf with a glass of wine in each hand, striding towards them with straight-backed purpose. Iorveth traps the stranger between himself and Astarion, appraising him with the sharpness of a drawn blade as he passes Astarion his drink, a sharpness that gains in intensity when Iorveth notes the painting hanging on the wall. ]

I see I'm interrupting. [ A beat, and he adds, addressing the stranger directly: ] ―A friend of the Szarrs?

[ The man squeaks again, waving both of his hands in furious denial. "No, no... not at all, I was never important enough to be invited to his functions..."

Like a mouse caught between two snakes, Iorveth thinks. He pities the man a bit, but not enough not to append:
]

So you thought he was important.

[ The man flushes beet-red, embarrassed to be caught with his foot in his mouth. "No! Erm, well... yes, I did before, but... this gentleman here has made me realize how gullible I'd been..." ]

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