[ Iorveth also takes note of the syringe, paranoid and wary but equally aware that if he doesn't do anything, he'll die. He feels just on the verge of tipping over into unconsciousness, conversations becoming harder and harder to follow― the world feels wrapped in layers of cushioning, hard to touch or grasp.
He doesn't want to worry Astarion more than he has, but his body slumps against Astarion's side. A little slacker, his breathing less even.
Meanwhile, Damris continues: "I'm tired of being a spawn." By way of explanation. His pretty face twists into an expression of grim determination. "If I can drink Master Alkam's blood..."
He trails off, apparently having used the last dregs of his courage to even insinuate such a thing. Iorveth scoffs― why would they agree to creating a replacement vampire lord?― but the tiefling seems not to notice.
"I want him alive, and I want a taste of your blood bank's blood. Say yes, and I'll give you the antidote."
Blood bank. Another scoff, which Damris does take note of this time around, and frowns. ]
no subject
He doesn't want to worry Astarion more than he has, but his body slumps against Astarion's side. A little slacker, his breathing less even.
Meanwhile, Damris continues: "I'm tired of being a spawn." By way of explanation. His pretty face twists into an expression of grim determination. "If I can drink Master Alkam's blood..."
He trails off, apparently having used the last dregs of his courage to even insinuate such a thing. Iorveth scoffs― why would they agree to creating a replacement vampire lord?― but the tiefling seems not to notice.
"I want him alive, and I want a taste of your blood bank's blood. Say yes, and I'll give you the antidote."
Blood bank. Another scoff, which Damris does take note of this time around, and frowns. ]