[ A long pause, lingering. If Iorveth loved Astarion less, he would have been more austere; he would have reminded Astarion that it's the world that should be ashamed of breaking and binding the best of them. One of his long-winded speeches about injustice and humiliation and how he's embraced these things to keep what's left of himself held together.
He loves Astarion, though. So he thinks about these things, and says none of them.
What he does say: ] I only see you.
[ Disheveled and distressed and smaller than usual, yes, but the shape of him is beloved and sacred, no matter what he's weathered.
Iorveth decides not to say that, either. Instead, he pushes himself away from the column he's leaning on, head bowed in quiet reverence. ]
But if you wish me to leave and return at nightfall, I will. [ Whatever dignity Astarion wishes to preserve, it's his. ] ―Obviously, I'll not be far.
no subject
He loves Astarion, though. So he thinks about these things, and says none of them.
What he does say: ] I only see you.
[ Disheveled and distressed and smaller than usual, yes, but the shape of him is beloved and sacred, no matter what he's weathered.
Iorveth decides not to say that, either. Instead, he pushes himself away from the column he's leaning on, head bowed in quiet reverence. ]
But if you wish me to leave and return at nightfall, I will. [ Whatever dignity Astarion wishes to preserve, it's his. ] ―Obviously, I'll not be far.