[ The huff that Astarion gets back in return is as pompous as a man with all of his limbs tied can manage to sound after being effectively stepped on. Derisive, but mostly to posture; he doesn't try to say something snappy back in return, choosing to chew along his lower lip in what looks like an anxious habit.
Iorveth watches the blunt tip of Damris's tail (lashed around long legs like a second piece of rope) twitch and struggle, then poses his first question: ]
I've not been trancing well the past few days. [ Him, not Astarion. ] Would you know anything about why it is that I've been having undesirable visions during my meditations?
[ "Are you doing anything stupid", essentially. The question doesn't seem to resonate with Damris, eliciting only a confused furrow of shapely brows, but thoroughness is key: with a foot, Iorveth rolls Damris closer to the dreaded office window, where he plays with letting the sliver of light filtering through the curtains touch the bare skin of Damris's exposed forearms. The tiefling hisses, growls, then blanches in fear as he realizes that the deranged elves are not, in fact, joking about inflicting grievous pain on him, and finally offers:
"I don't know! Gods, I don't know. If it was just tonight, I would say the aftereffects of the poison, but..." A strained yelp, as Iorveth peels the curtains away just an inch, letting the light sear against Damris's pretty hands. "Gods, please, I don't know! Spawn don't have that kind of power!"
Red eyes glance desperately towards Astarion, pleading for some sort of corroboration as he feels his fingers start to burn. Iorveth has already heard said corroboration, but he's content with letting Astarion dictate whether he's satisfied or not with the answer. ]
no subject
Iorveth watches the blunt tip of Damris's tail (lashed around long legs like a second piece of rope) twitch and struggle, then poses his first question: ]
I've not been trancing well the past few days. [ Him, not Astarion. ] Would you know anything about why it is that I've been having undesirable visions during my meditations?
[ "Are you doing anything stupid", essentially. The question doesn't seem to resonate with Damris, eliciting only a confused furrow of shapely brows, but thoroughness is key: with a foot, Iorveth rolls Damris closer to the dreaded office window, where he plays with letting the sliver of light filtering through the curtains touch the bare skin of Damris's exposed forearms. The tiefling hisses, growls, then blanches in fear as he realizes that the deranged elves are not, in fact, joking about inflicting grievous pain on him, and finally offers:
"I don't know! Gods, I don't know. If it was just tonight, I would say the aftereffects of the poison, but..." A strained yelp, as Iorveth peels the curtains away just an inch, letting the light sear against Damris's pretty hands. "Gods, please, I don't know! Spawn don't have that kind of power!"
Red eyes glance desperately towards Astarion, pleading for some sort of corroboration as he feels his fingers start to burn. Iorveth has already heard said corroboration, but he's content with letting Astarion dictate whether he's satisfied or not with the answer. ]