[ Astarion experiences a low-grade anxiety at all times, an undercurrent humming in the background of everything he does, but Sebastian's sharp nails against Iorveth's skin ratchets it up to very much in the foreground. Gods, it's distressing to care for someone. Sometimes it feels wonderful and exciting to give a damn about another person; other times, like now, it feels like a curse.
If Sebastian draws blood now, he's certain every single spawn will lunge at Iorveth and tear him apart. Impulsively, Astarion bangs a fist against the bars, rattling the spawns' cage to startle them. It hurts, though, and he clutches at his knuckles while sucking in a hiss of air. ]
Keep your hands to yourselves, too.
[ Sebastian's grip slackens, but several other spawn seem entirely unfazed by Astarion's warning, eyes still locked onto the veins of Iorveth's wrist. They must be the ones who've been here the longest. The earliest victims. Astarion grinds his teeth, lip curling. ]
no subject
If Sebastian draws blood now, he's certain every single spawn will lunge at Iorveth and tear him apart. Impulsively, Astarion bangs a fist against the bars, rattling the spawns' cage to startle them. It hurts, though, and he clutches at his knuckles while sucking in a hiss of air. ]
Keep your hands to yourselves, too.
[ Sebastian's grip slackens, but several other spawn seem entirely unfazed by Astarion's warning, eyes still locked onto the veins of Iorveth's wrist. They must be the ones who've been here the longest. The earliest victims. Astarion grinds his teeth, lip curling. ]
And at least try not to look so damned hungry.