A sound idea. It'll be satisfying to watch this place burn to ash.
[ Iorveth kicks the fallen staff into the nearest (now-empty) prison room, content to imagine it crumbling and falling into the abyss alongside the rest of this miserable manse. The last vestiges of Cazador's despicable legacy, lost forever to time immemorial.
It's not a neat bow on top of a nicely-wrapped package. Or, well. It doesn't feel that way to Iorveth, a bystander, so Iorveth assumes that it must not feel that way to Astarion in the slightest. What they've done here was important, but whether it was good or even correct, he has no clue; the world, as always, will be senseless, and one day they might find themselves fighting off familiar-looking faces in the dark.
That's for their future selves to worry about, though. For now, Iorveth is happy with "because I had you beside me," and with the knowledge that Astarion really did do well, that he made a choice, and that it was the harder one to make.
He marinates on that with a mirrored half-smile, which fades as one particular spawn breaks from the throng to approach them. Sebastian, the one that remembered Astarion from however-many-decades ago; Iorveth takes a step forward to place himself between the incoming third party and Astarion once recognition sets in, hackles visibly raised. ]
No closer, [ is a clear warning, Iorveth's single eye narrowed like a speartip. Sebastian only shakes his head, and murmurs hoarsely: "I just want one last word with him, nothing more." ]
no subject
[ Iorveth kicks the fallen staff into the nearest (now-empty) prison room, content to imagine it crumbling and falling into the abyss alongside the rest of this miserable manse. The last vestiges of Cazador's despicable legacy, lost forever to time immemorial.
It's not a neat bow on top of a nicely-wrapped package. Or, well. It doesn't feel that way to Iorveth, a bystander, so Iorveth assumes that it must not feel that way to Astarion in the slightest. What they've done here was important, but whether it was good or even correct, he has no clue; the world, as always, will be senseless, and one day they might find themselves fighting off familiar-looking faces in the dark.
That's for their future selves to worry about, though. For now, Iorveth is happy with "because I had you beside me," and with the knowledge that Astarion really did do well, that he made a choice, and that it was the harder one to make.
He marinates on that with a mirrored half-smile, which fades as one particular spawn breaks from the throng to approach them. Sebastian, the one that remembered Astarion from however-many-decades ago; Iorveth takes a step forward to place himself between the incoming third party and Astarion once recognition sets in, hackles visibly raised. ]
No closer, [ is a clear warning, Iorveth's single eye narrowed like a speartip. Sebastian only shakes his head, and murmurs hoarsely: "I just want one last word with him, nothing more." ]