[ This whole wedding thing is doing a lot of the heavy lifting for Astarion's mood recently. He softens at the mention of it, but— ]
You're not allowed to die after, either.
[ Said very seriously, very soberly, without a hint of playfulness. Iorveth is quite literally not allowed to die. If he does, Astarion will drag his corpse around until he finds a cleric willing to resurrect him, cost (and smell) be damned. He plans to be with Iorveth until someone beheads him or the sun burns out, whichever comes first.
He holds Iorveth's gaze for a moment before slipping on his shirt. ]
no subject
You're not allowed to die after, either.
[ Said very seriously, very soberly, without a hint of playfulness. Iorveth is quite literally not allowed to die. If he does, Astarion will drag his corpse around until he finds a cleric willing to resurrect him, cost (and smell) be damned. He plans to be with Iorveth until someone beheads him or the sun burns out, whichever comes first.
He holds Iorveth's gaze for a moment before slipping on his shirt. ]
I hate that armor, you know.
[ So bulky!! So unfashionable!! ]