[ If Iorveth is going to die, let him die while talking shit. That said, as much as he'd spent the past few decades of his life looking for the right way to die, he has someone he wants to live for now, so－
－not kicking the bucket is imperative. He breathes through his nose, as slow and steady as he can manage, and rests his pounding head against the back of the armchair to watch the tiefling's reaction to what seems like a verbal knife being jammed somewhere soft and vulnerable.
"You could be his next favorite," he wavers. "He's never seen a free spawn before."
Obviously frightened. Dreading the truth in Astarion's words, trying to justify his learned helplessness. The tiefling's hands ball into fists, fingers furling and unfurling.
"What else could I do? You would do the same, in my place." ]
no subject
－not kicking the bucket is imperative. He breathes through his nose, as slow and steady as he can manage, and rests his pounding head against the back of the armchair to watch the tiefling's reaction to what seems like a verbal knife being jammed somewhere soft and vulnerable.
"You could be his next favorite," he wavers. "He's never seen a free spawn before."
Obviously frightened. Dreading the truth in Astarion's words, trying to justify his learned helplessness. The tiefling's hands ball into fists, fingers furling and unfurling.
"What else could I do? You would do the same, in my place." ]