essea: (21.)
ɪᴏʀᴠᴇᴛʜ. ([personal profile] essea) wrote 2025-06-18 10:29 pm (UTC)

If you trust that he won't rob you blind and slit your throat in your sleep.

[ Which is another way to say "your funeral". Gale's always been far too kind for his own good, but maybe that's what Damris needs right now― it's the sort of kindness Iorveth doesn't have available for anyone but Astarion in the moment.

So. A wave of his hand, dismissive (Gale is a big boy wizard, and can Fireball a vampire spawn by himself if he so chooses), before he crouches by the couch that he's laid Astarion flat on, sifting fingers through now-crunchy (the fluid's started to dry) hair.
]

I should go find you a cleric, [ he murmurs, expression shifting out of commanding neutral to betray mounting concern. He's never seen Astarion in such an obvious, lasting state of pain, and it makes his stomach coil and knot.

(Meanwhile, Damris is spitting his gag out, courtesy of Gale, and hissing "you're friends with those monsters?!" as he flexes his sore, cramped limbs. Grateful that he's no longer in Athkatla, but terrified about what the fuck he's supposed to do now.)
]

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