[ Iorveth feels sore all over, but it's mostly his insides that feel wrung-out and tired. Having weight applied to his poison-weakened body isn't the best for him, but the irrational, illogical part of his brain whose chemistry has been permanently changed by Astarion says that the additional weight is the only thing that feels good right now, so. Iorveth hefts Astarion closer, aching but content. ]

I'm unenthused about an eternal life predicated on being your kept elf in an ivory tower.

[ To make that distinction abundantly clear. ]

I'm enthused about an eternal life where we explore the world on our own terms, kill our enemies when we need to, and fuck where we want. Together.

[ A deviation from his previously-held dreams for the future. It still holds－ his evergreen desire to sit in a quiet, peaceful room with a table full of food and a roaring fire to keep warm－ but it's in concert with enjoying a life with someone he loves.

Obviously, this future also hinges on the survival of the Aen Seidhe, but Saskia seems to have that covered for now. Plus, Saskia is also going to live for like, another few millennia, thank the gods. ]