[ Astarion curls into himself, and something about seeing him like this, disheveled and bruised and covered in dirt, makes Iorveth's heart clench. It was terrible seeing his pale skin scorch and fray in sunlight, and this evokes the same sort of sinking feeling; the thought that someone might be punished just for existing, even after all that triumph.
Iorveth doesn't approach Astarion. Instead, he remains standing and leans against the foundations of the bridge a few paces away, his back to jagged stone, arms folded. Giving Astarion space. ]
...An unhappy end to a hard-earned victory.
[ Iorveth'd wondered, briefly, if he'd ever see Astarion at all again. He doesn't venture anything further, in case Astarion wants to speak more on that day. ]
no subject
Iorveth doesn't approach Astarion. Instead, he remains standing and leans against the foundations of the bridge a few paces away, his back to jagged stone, arms folded. Giving Astarion space. ]
...An unhappy end to a hard-earned victory.
[ Iorveth'd wondered, briefly, if he'd ever see Astarion at all again. He doesn't venture anything further, in case Astarion wants to speak more on that day. ]