[ Astarion shrugs off the shirt he's wearing, now wrinkled by rolling around in bed with Iorveth's arms around him all day. He slips on the sleeves of the offered shirt, leaving it for Iorveth to button up not out of a desire to be pampered—although, of course, he always enjoys being pampered—but because he's far too tired to do anything that requires deft movements of his fingers. The whole reason he needs to get some blood in him before he even attempts to rob a hag blind.
He lists against Iorveth as he waits, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before he forces them open again. ]
no subject
He lists against Iorveth as he waits, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before he forces them open again. ]
You do like to imagine me as the hero.