[ Astarion plays a piss poor hero in his opinion, but if his elf-shaped security blanket is saying so, then he supposes he can't argue. His fingers stop their kneading, turning to light, lazy strokes up and down Iorveth's back. Soothing, meant to lull him into his trance. Tomorrow, they'll need to do some digging on Athkatla, see if Gale has had any opportunity to talk with his colleagues. Today, though, he only wants Iorveth to have the sort of lazy rest Astarion knows he rarely allows for himself. ]
You always say that.
[ Stay with me, as if Astarion has any intention of going anywhere. Ridiculous. Has he not been clear enough that he wants to be glued to Iorveth's side until the sun burns out or someone stakes him in the heart (whichever comes first)?
Hm. He'll need to think of a better way to show Iorveth that they're tied irrevocably now, that he couldn't possibly imagine a future without his scowling little elven terrorist in it. ]
You couldn't rid yourself of me if you tried.
[ And he closes his eyes, too, pressing his lips to Iorveth's temple before drifting off himself. ]
no subject
You always say that.
[ Stay with me, as if Astarion has any intention of going anywhere. Ridiculous. Has he not been clear enough that he wants to be glued to Iorveth's side until the sun burns out or someone stakes him in the heart (whichever comes first)?
Hm. He'll need to think of a better way to show Iorveth that they're tied irrevocably now, that he couldn't possibly imagine a future without his scowling little elven terrorist in it. ]
You couldn't rid yourself of me if you tried.
[ And he closes his eyes, too, pressing his lips to Iorveth's temple before drifting off himself. ]