[ Funny, probably, that the fact that Iorveth is a wood elf is more controversial to Astarion than the fact that Iorveth is a known terrorist. Definitely not the time to be reflecting on the improbability of their relationship, however-- heavy footsteps herald the presence of the unwelcome soldiers, and Iorveth stifles his suicidal inclination to fight by pressing closer to Astarion in their small space.
"Couldn't have gone far", one voice pants. "Hells, how hard is it to catch one elf--"
"Should've killed the other one when we had the chance," another voice grouses, followed by the sound of a sword cutting through overgrown underbrush. "Won't make that mistake twice."
More rustling, more hacking. Iorveth holds his breath until the frustrated conversation recedes into the background, brushing against the perimeter of the alcove they're tucked in before meandering in a nebulous direction.
A long moment later: ] A right mess. [ Iorveth closes his eye, slumps back. ]
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"Couldn't have gone far", one voice pants. "Hells, how hard is it to catch one elf--"
"Should've killed the other one when we had the chance," another voice grouses, followed by the sound of a sword cutting through overgrown underbrush. "Won't make that mistake twice."
More rustling, more hacking. Iorveth holds his breath until the frustrated conversation recedes into the background, brushing against the perimeter of the alcove they're tucked in before meandering in a nebulous direction.
A long moment later: ] A right mess. [ Iorveth closes his eye, slumps back. ]