[ Another moment to digest that insult (clearly not the sharpest bulb in the shed), and the footman snarls, throwing up the arm that he isn't using to hold Astarion in place―
―but the blow never lands. Iorveth descends on the human before he can throw his punch, and rams the sharp end of a crossbow bolt through his neck, cutting off any screams before they can escape his blocked airway. Blood sprays everywhere, coating Iorveth's bandaged hand and Astarion's poor face, and Iorveth grimaces at the mess, jabbing another bolt next to the one already embedded in soft flesh before tossing the writhing man aside as if he were garbage (he is).
Wiping his palm on his knee, he kneels next to Astarion. The neutral mask he'd been wearing slips; concern flits across his single eye as he draws a dagger and sets to work on undoing tightly-pulled binds, pragmatism keeping careful fingers from shaking with rage. ]
Astarion, [ he murmurs. A thousand different follow-up statements cross his mind, but the only thing Iorveth manages is a choked half-sound, angry and frustrated and, above all else, upset. ]
no subject
―but the blow never lands. Iorveth descends on the human before he can throw his punch, and rams the sharp end of a crossbow bolt through his neck, cutting off any screams before they can escape his blocked airway. Blood sprays everywhere, coating Iorveth's bandaged hand and Astarion's poor face, and Iorveth grimaces at the mess, jabbing another bolt next to the one already embedded in soft flesh before tossing the writhing man aside as if he were garbage (he is).
Wiping his palm on his knee, he kneels next to Astarion. The neutral mask he'd been wearing slips; concern flits across his single eye as he draws a dagger and sets to work on undoing tightly-pulled binds, pragmatism keeping careful fingers from shaking with rage. ]
Astarion, [ he murmurs. A thousand different follow-up statements cross his mind, but the only thing Iorveth manages is a choked half-sound, angry and frustrated and, above all else, upset. ]