essea: (42.)
ɪᴏʀᴠᴇᴛʜ. ([personal profile] essea) wrote 2025-06-19 12:21 am (UTC)

[ Still knelt by the couch, fingers twined in crispy curls, Iorveth exhales through his nose. Weak, as ever, to that verbal sleeve tug. ]

You need a healer, [ he says, but it lacks authority. A statement of fact, but not a demand; this entire night has been about things not going the way Astarion wanted, and Iorveth is loathe to add to that ever-growing pile of frustrations.

Another low exhale, and he thumbs under one red eye. It looks puffier than usual, bloodshot with the kind of distress that Iorveth hates seeing.
]

―But if you wish me to stay, I will. I'll go tell Gale to find someone suitable.

[ Which would leave them alone in this tower with a spawn who hates them, but Iorveth can deal with Damris if he tries anything stupid. He presses his lips to Astarion's forehead, then slowly gets up. ]

Rest. I'll be back in a moment.

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