[ Oh, this might end poorly for them. For Astarion, more like. The other cloak sits on the floor near them, taunting them with its potential to make Astarion experience the same humiliation again, and the thought fills Iorveth with loathing.
He hovers, then lowers his hands. Stays close, without touching. It isn't in his nature to be optimistic about Plan B when Plan A fails― a realist, through and through― so he only offers the second cloak with a sort of grim determination, the kind of resignation that says 'we might as well' instead of 'this might be the one'. ]
If you're to blame anyone, blame me for the half-baked plan. Not yourself.
[ Terrible, to think of Astarion wallowing in self-directed anger. This situation is really no one's fault but Cazador's (motherfucker), but Iorveth is happier to be the subject of Astarion's ire if that helps Astarion not sink into a level of self-loathing.
After a pause: ]
Do you wish to continue?
[ Understandable if the answer is no, though Iorveth thinks it'd be wiser to rip off the proverbial bandage (or, against all odds, experience the triumph). Better to know than not. ]
no subject
He hovers, then lowers his hands. Stays close, without touching. It isn't in his nature to be optimistic about Plan B when Plan A fails― a realist, through and through― so he only offers the second cloak with a sort of grim determination, the kind of resignation that says 'we might as well' instead of 'this might be the one'. ]
If you're to blame anyone, blame me for the half-baked plan. Not yourself.
[ Terrible, to think of Astarion wallowing in self-directed anger. This situation is really no one's fault but Cazador's (motherfucker), but Iorveth is happier to be the subject of Astarion's ire if that helps Astarion not sink into a level of self-loathing.
After a pause: ]
Do you wish to continue?
[ Understandable if the answer is no, though Iorveth thinks it'd be wiser to rip off the proverbial bandage (or, against all odds, experience the triumph). Better to know than not. ]