essea: (52.)
ɪᴏʀᴠᴇᴛʜ. ([personal profile] essea) wrote 2025-04-13 03:53 am (UTC)

[ To that, a full-on laugh. ]

Trust me when I say, beloved, that you won't have any.

[ Literally who is lining up to get a piece of a deranged elf with deep-seated neuroses... no one, that's who. Iorveth said it before, back on that bench in the bard-infested square: he's difficult. Too sharp, too stubborn. Most people think of Halsin when they think of wood elves, open and warm-hearted, and Iorveth is.

Well, he's this. Weird and prickly and intense. Hard to get along with. But it's what Astarion said he likes, so Iorveth is fine with it.
]

But I can promise that, centuries from now, you'd still have me begging for you. That's also a certainty.

[ Certain things might lose their novelty, but Iorveth doubts that he'll ever get used to how Astarion makes him feel. It still takes him off-guard, even now, when Astarion looks at him a certain way, laughs a certain way, touches him a certain way. ]

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