[ His free hand hangs awkwardly at his side for a moment, his body still unused to being held in any sort of pleasurable way. He has to remind himself that a hug involves two people, but once he does, it's easy to follow his instinct to slide a hand up Iorveth's back and splay his fingers out between his shouldeblades. In Iorveth's grip, he melts, practically purring with happiness. Astarion enjoys shallow praise, but there's something about real praise delivered in Iorveth's voice that's so much better.

Astarion doesn't want to pull away, but he knows that he has to. A vampire lord's crypt that served as a prison for thousands is no place to cuddle. He lingers as long as he can without it seeming strange before he pulls back, smiling faintly. It isn't that he feels optimistic about what he's just done, exactly, but there's something reassuring in Iorveth's presence that makes him feel like everything will be all right. ]

Only because I had you beside me.

[ He wouldn't have had the guts to do it himself. Hells, if not for Iorveth, perhaps all of these spawn would already be dead, their souls consumed for him to ascend. When Iorveth is around, Astarion wants to be the sort of person Iorveth thinks he is.

Cazador's staff twinkles slightly in the weak light. Astarion glances down at it, then tosses it, clattering, to the ground. ]

When this is all over, we should make Gale incinerate this place with a fireball.