[ Funny. Astarion tells Iorveth that he has no more sanity left to lose, but he's also telling Iorveth that he looks handsome. A deranged observation, even when Iorveth doesn't look like he just came out of a boxing match with a minotaur.
He's a mess. Sweating lightly from the promise of a fever, mottled bruises obscuring some of the finer patterns of the tattoo snaking down his torso, cut and scraped and matted. He doesn't protest rest, even though he'd like to. ]
...We're farther from Waterdeep than I would've liked to be, [ is a soft murmur, single eye closing as he lists against the nearest flat surface. He curls his fingers where they're touching Astarion's, turning it into a proper handhold. ] It'll be a full night of travel. Less if we had a boat or a horse.
[ The boat option is out; the horse one too, unless they get really lucky. Of course Iorveth is trying to calculate routes even when he's told to rest, though- terminally unable to keep his overactive mind from planning and plotting. His voice starts to slur. ]
I'll send the wizard a message, [ he murmurs, and it's the last thing he manages before he conks out, limp and unguarded with the rays of morning sunlight starting to warm his back. ]
no subject
He's a mess. Sweating lightly from the promise of a fever, mottled bruises obscuring some of the finer patterns of the tattoo snaking down his torso, cut and scraped and matted. He doesn't protest rest, even though he'd like to. ]
...We're farther from Waterdeep than I would've liked to be, [ is a soft murmur, single eye closing as he lists against the nearest flat surface. He curls his fingers where they're touching Astarion's, turning it into a proper handhold. ] It'll be a full night of travel. Less if we had a boat or a horse.
[ The boat option is out; the horse one too, unless they get really lucky. Of course Iorveth is trying to calculate routes even when he's told to rest, though- terminally unable to keep his overactive mind from planning and plotting. His voice starts to slur. ]
I'll send the wizard a message, [ he murmurs, and it's the last thing he manages before he conks out, limp and unguarded with the rays of morning sunlight starting to warm his back. ]