[ Again, Astarion says, cementing Iorveth's suspicions that Astarion hasn't called it quits yet. It's still a little unbelievable that Astarion likes him enough to stay; it makes that same part of Iorveth that ached to see Astarion hurt feel even more heartsick.
That, and. Well. Iorveth thinks that he might actually be literally sick, in terms of health. Exhausted, sleep-deprived, hungry (those fucking humans could have waited until he got to eat the rabbit that Astarion had so kindly fetched for him)― the burnt and raw skin under his now-wet bandages might be more than a little inflamed now, and wearing damp clothes hasn't been the best for regulating his fluctuating body temperature. Fighting a wave of dizziness that threatens to skew his balance, Iorveth divests himself of his ruined shirt, wiping his face and hair with the cleanest parts of it before he tosses it aside to rot. Now he looks less like a serial killer and more like a shirtless vagrant. Oh well. ]
Mm. [ A vague hum, as he shifts into a strategic position to block Astarion from the impending sun. ] Try, for my dwindling sanity's sake.
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That, and. Well. Iorveth thinks that he might actually be literally sick, in terms of health. Exhausted, sleep-deprived, hungry (those fucking humans could have waited until he got to eat the rabbit that Astarion had so kindly fetched for him)― the burnt and raw skin under his now-wet bandages might be more than a little inflamed now, and wearing damp clothes hasn't been the best for regulating his fluctuating body temperature. Fighting a wave of dizziness that threatens to skew his balance, Iorveth divests himself of his ruined shirt, wiping his face and hair with the cleanest parts of it before he tosses it aside to rot. Now he looks less like a serial killer and more like a shirtless vagrant. Oh well. ]
Mm. [ A vague hum, as he shifts into a strategic position to block Astarion from the impending sun. ] Try, for my dwindling sanity's sake.