[ Iorveth certainly wasn't thinking that Astarion was perfect all of the times he scolded him for being foolish, shortsighted, not seeing things clearly— but he won't argue against it. He responds to the nudge with a pat before forcing himself up (he's tired too, you know, that was really a lot of physical effort) and absconding back into the bathroom. When he returns, it's draped in a purple robe that really isn't his color but is soft and warm, and with a (you guessed it, purple) cloth in hand.
Crawling back up beside Iorveth on the bed, he runs the damp cloth over tanned skin. This, too, is the sort of thing he never indulged in before Iorveth. Another kind of gentleness, caring for someone else. ]
We'll need to go shopping tomorrow.
[ A thought apropos of seemingly nothing, yet very logical, in his mind. Thinking of how much he loves Iorveth reasonably leads to how much he'd rage if anything were to happen to him. ]
no subject
Crawling back up beside Iorveth on the bed, he runs the damp cloth over tanned skin. This, too, is the sort of thing he never indulged in before Iorveth. Another kind of gentleness, caring for someone else. ]
We'll need to go shopping tomorrow.
[ A thought apropos of seemingly nothing, yet very logical, in his mind. Thinking of how much he loves Iorveth reasonably leads to how much he'd rage if anything were to happen to him. ]
I want you armed to the gills with holy water.