[ Maybe in another life, Iorveth would have been just another wood elf without the massive and murderous chip on his shoulder, and Astarion would have remained a powerful magistrate lording his influence over the Upper and Lower Cities of Baldur's Gate. Iorveth might have brushed by Lord Ancunin during a rare trip outside of his forests, and he would have felt absolutely none of the gravitational pull he feels now－

－or maybe he would have, and chalked it up to a weird heart murmur. Ships passing, their lives too disparate to intersect. Iorveth cups Astarion's cheek with his callused palm, thumb pressing near his lips to idly find a fang. ]

That could work. But I won't sit idly by while you work. [ Terminally unable to not calm the fuck down and rest for even a second. ] Perhaps I could find someone to not-so-sensually flog.

[ Astarion can have tea with the women, and Iorveth can go torture a guy. ]