[ Astarion should count himself lucky to have had anyone who loved him at all, much less for four centuries. Once, not so long ago, he thought love was something that only existed for other people. Of course, he's ambitious at his core. What he has is never enough, and he'll always want more. More affection, more time, more Iorveth.
He leans his head into Iorveth's hand. ]
And I you.
[ Until his end, which will either be when he's finally murdered for being the shit he is or the sun burns out. Whichever. ]
...I just wish that your undying love were a bit more undying. Is that so wrong?
no subject
He leans his head into Iorveth's hand. ]
And I you.
[ Until his end, which will either be when he's finally murdered for being the shit he is or the sun burns out. Whichever. ]
...I just wish that your undying love were a bit more undying. Is that so wrong?