You could be covered head to toe in wrinkles, [ with more conviction than strictly necessary, ] and you would still be the loveliest thing in all the Realms.
[ His Majesty from Last Light Inn comes to mind. (Iorveth doesn't say so, because Astarion is already in a terrible mood). That said, the gravity of their situation settles back onto them like a funereal shroud, bleak and oppressive; a familiar feeling not just for himself, Iorveth assumes.
Still, Iorveth is surprised to find that he doesn't feel mired in helplessness. He feels... anchored? Full of purpose. Like even the prospect of despair can't quite touch him, when Astarion is around.
Strange. Not unpleasant. He's very certain that Astarion isn't having the same experience, however, so he keeps his touch featherlight along pale skin, thumb tickling along a soft earlobe. ]
You believe so, about the cloak. But I've not yet given up. [ He breathes through his nose, low and steady. ] And if I'm correct in assuming that your nightly disturbances have been the hag's doing, she deserves death.
no subject
[ His Majesty from Last Light Inn comes to mind. (Iorveth doesn't say so, because Astarion is already in a terrible mood). That said, the gravity of their situation settles back onto them like a funereal shroud, bleak and oppressive; a familiar feeling not just for himself, Iorveth assumes.
Still, Iorveth is surprised to find that he doesn't feel mired in helplessness. He feels... anchored? Full of purpose. Like even the prospect of despair can't quite touch him, when Astarion is around.
Strange. Not unpleasant. He's very certain that Astarion isn't having the same experience, however, so he keeps his touch featherlight along pale skin, thumb tickling along a soft earlobe. ]
You believe so, about the cloak. But I've not yet given up. [ He breathes through his nose, low and steady. ] And if I'm correct in assuming that your nightly disturbances have been the hag's doing, she deserves death.