[ And there it is again, the matter of Astarion's heart. Two hundred years of enduring every form of torture possible, and he still has the ability to say things like "I didn't want to hurt any of you". Iorveth doesn't know if he could've said the same of himself, if he'd woken after the Nautiloid crash and had hands extended to him by humans he'd recognized as being from the North; even if he needed the strength in numbers, he might have killed them all and taken his chances alone.
Cool lips touch at his pulse, and Iorveth gentles. He motions for Astarion to make space so that he can sit beside him again. Closer, for more visibility. ]
It matters― to know you. I'd not known then what I do now.
[ Obviously. But Iorveth always feels too much, and wants too much: he wouldn't be who he is if he didn't, against everyone's wishes or warnings. ]
no subject
Cool lips touch at his pulse, and Iorveth gentles. He motions for Astarion to make space so that he can sit beside him again. Closer, for more visibility. ]
It matters― to know you. I'd not known then what I do now.
[ Obviously. But Iorveth always feels too much, and wants too much: he wouldn't be who he is if he didn't, against everyone's wishes or warnings. ]
It helps to make me see you more clearly.