[ Again, with that word. "Perfect". A funny thing, that he unknowingly mirrors Astarion's feelings about that sentiment― hardly, is his first kneejerk thought― but he doesn't push back, content to accept that maybe, just maybe, Astarion does think his blood tastes that good. Pure undiluted Aen Seidhe: a rare vintage.
He tips Astarion's chin, gently dislodging him from his nest against Iorveth's neck, and cranes down to kiss the bloodied corner of Astarion's mouth. All Iorveth can taste is the slightly acerbic bite of copper, but he's a wood elf, not a vampire. ]
Perfect for you. [ Mostly because Iorveth doesn't care to impress anyone else. Combing through soft silver strands, he settles back and watches the purple curtains shuttering their room from the outside windows turn a pretty shade of lavender, lit by the rising sun; soon, he thinks, Astarion will be able to greet the morning without fear again. He'll make sure of it. ]
My better half, [ is a grandiose term of endearment, but sincerely meant. Murmured, as he slips closer towards unconsciousness. ] I'd give you all of my blood if I were able.
[ Sucks, really, that bodies don't work that way. One last nuzzle, and Iorveth is down for the count, freefalling into a trance while rolling a good charisma saving throw: just along the edges of his consciousness, Iorveth can feel a presence trying to steer him towards a seething storm of potential nightmares and newfound fears. It loses out, however, to the comfort and safety of Astarion's presence on top of him; unbeknownst to Iorveth, the same presence will try to extend its influence Astarion's way whenever he slips into his own rest, peering and prying. ]
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He tips Astarion's chin, gently dislodging him from his nest against Iorveth's neck, and cranes down to kiss the bloodied corner of Astarion's mouth. All Iorveth can taste is the slightly acerbic bite of copper, but he's a wood elf, not a vampire. ]
Perfect for you. [ Mostly because Iorveth doesn't care to impress anyone else. Combing through soft silver strands, he settles back and watches the purple curtains shuttering their room from the outside windows turn a pretty shade of lavender, lit by the rising sun; soon, he thinks, Astarion will be able to greet the morning without fear again. He'll make sure of it. ]
My better half, [ is a grandiose term of endearment, but sincerely meant. Murmured, as he slips closer towards unconsciousness. ] I'd give you all of my blood if I were able.
[ Sucks, really, that bodies don't work that way. One last nuzzle, and Iorveth is down for the count, freefalling into a trance while rolling a good charisma saving throw: just along the edges of his consciousness, Iorveth can feel a presence trying to steer him towards a seething storm of potential nightmares and newfound fears. It loses out, however, to the comfort and safety of Astarion's presence on top of him; unbeknownst to Iorveth, the same presence will try to extend its influence Astarion's way whenever he slips into his own rest, peering and prying. ]