[ "He better," Loredo spits. He lets go of Astarion's hair, letting him collapse back onto the grimy stone floor of the cellar with a click of his tongue.
"Then again, the slippery bastard might cut his losses and find another pointy-eared rat to stick his prick in. Must not be very happy with you anymore."
An appraising glance, sideways. Loredo toes Astarion with his boot again, rolling him onto his back for a better look. After he flicks his dull eyes over the entirety of him, Loredo lifts his foot as if to kick him in the stomach―
―but is interrupted by hurried footsteps above, and a voice shouting about a fire at the docks. "Our shipment's burning!", someone yells, and Loredo curses under his breath.
"Make sure the elf doesn't go anywhere," he snaps at his footman, and jogs up the stairs to see what the panic is about. Obviously Iorveth's doing, given the timing. The footman looks visibly disconcerted by the sudden change in atmosphere, but picks up where Loredo left off, kicking Astarion harshly in his side. "Behave yourself, elf."
While that's happening―
―the deranged terrorist that Loredo is looking for has swiftly made himself across town and into the nearby river, hidden by ink-dark water and tall grass. Iorveth watches as armored guards flail about with buckets of water, trying to salvage whatever they can of their now-burning cargo on their handful of barges; Iorveth considers killing every last one of them, but sets that thought aside in favor of something (someone) more pressing. He swims towards Loredo's riverside mansion, hoping that the fire claims at least some of the men he's left behind. ]
no subject
"Then again, the slippery bastard might cut his losses and find another pointy-eared rat to stick his prick in. Must not be very happy with you anymore."
An appraising glance, sideways. Loredo toes Astarion with his boot again, rolling him onto his back for a better look. After he flicks his dull eyes over the entirety of him, Loredo lifts his foot as if to kick him in the stomach―
―but is interrupted by hurried footsteps above, and a voice shouting about a fire at the docks. "Our shipment's burning!", someone yells, and Loredo curses under his breath.
"Make sure the elf doesn't go anywhere," he snaps at his footman, and jogs up the stairs to see what the panic is about. Obviously Iorveth's doing, given the timing. The footman looks visibly disconcerted by the sudden change in atmosphere, but picks up where Loredo left off, kicking Astarion harshly in his side. "Behave yourself, elf."
While that's happening―
―the deranged terrorist that Loredo is looking for has swiftly made himself across town and into the nearby river, hidden by ink-dark water and tall grass. Iorveth watches as armored guards flail about with buckets of water, trying to salvage whatever they can of their now-burning cargo on their handful of barges; Iorveth considers killing every last one of them, but sets that thought aside in favor of something (someone) more pressing. He swims towards Loredo's riverside mansion, hoping that the fire claims at least some of the men he's left behind. ]