[ Astarion should care more about who he's decided to ally himself with, and what that person is known for doing, but there's at least one thing that even his detractors would agree about Iorveth: he has never betrayed someone he considers a comrade. Astarion, in that sense, remains safe.
Effectively shoved, he realigns himself back towards their previous trajectory towards the now-abandoned campfire. Not without a quick Cure Wounds, however－ a featherlight touch of soothing cold against the bloomed bruise on Astarion's face. The effects are superficial (is it worth casting a spell when it only recovers, like, 2 HP!!!!), but better than nothing. ]
Tempting, [ because it is, ] but I need to rest.
[ Finally admitting it. His strides are getting less sure by the second, weighed down by exhaustion finally rearing its ugly head now that the adrenaline is gone; his wrists are still a raw, bloody mess, and he must be a mess of bruises under his clothes. Trancing won't mend him, but at least he'll feel less like he's running on empty.
When they get to the abandoned campsite, most of their belongings are, in fact, there. Their bedrolls are still wound and lashed to their tent-packs, their supplies set aside near the haycart that Iorveth was deposited in. Iorveth reaches for the packs with their tents inside first, testing to see that nothing's been damaged. ]
We've lost a day of travel, but it's preferable to being dead.
no subject
Effectively shoved, he realigns himself back towards their previous trajectory towards the now-abandoned campfire. Not without a quick Cure Wounds, however－ a featherlight touch of soothing cold against the bloomed bruise on Astarion's face. The effects are superficial (is it worth casting a spell when it only recovers, like, 2 HP!!!!), but better than nothing. ]
Tempting, [ because it is, ] but I need to rest.
[ Finally admitting it. His strides are getting less sure by the second, weighed down by exhaustion finally rearing its ugly head now that the adrenaline is gone; his wrists are still a raw, bloody mess, and he must be a mess of bruises under his clothes. Trancing won't mend him, but at least he'll feel less like he's running on empty.
When they get to the abandoned campsite, most of their belongings are, in fact, there. Their bedrolls are still wound and lashed to their tent-packs, their supplies set aside near the haycart that Iorveth was deposited in. Iorveth reaches for the packs with their tents inside first, testing to see that nothing's been damaged. ]
We've lost a day of travel, but it's preferable to being dead.