[ It's evening before Iorveth is bothered again, the light outside slowly dimming. (Not that Iorveth would be able to tell, what with every drape in the tower now shut.) Perhaps he's woken out of his reverie by the smell of spices wafting from the dining room, or the sound of conversation as Astarion regales their host with tales of their travels so far, albeit quite idealized tales. ]
And, of course, I knew it was a sleeping draught. That was part of my plan all along, you see—
[ If not, though, Iorveth is woken by the nudge of a small but insistent paw.
"Mr. Iorveth," comes Tara's prim voice. No more pretending she can't speak Common, at least not in Gale's home. "I must insist you try to eat something. Messrs. Dekarios and Ancunín are quite worried about you."
As if to serve as proof, a vial of shimmering ruby liquid has been placed on the armchair's side table, alongside a note written in impeccable penmanship: For your... everything. —G ]
no subject
And, of course, I knew it was a sleeping draught. That was part of my plan all along, you see—
[ If not, though, Iorveth is woken by the nudge of a small but insistent paw.
"Mr. Iorveth," comes Tara's prim voice. No more pretending she can't speak Common, at least not in Gale's home. "I must insist you try to eat something. Messrs. Dekarios and Ancunín are quite worried about you."
As if to serve as proof, a vial of shimmering ruby liquid has been placed on the armchair's side table, alongside a note written in impeccable penmanship: For your... everything. —G ]