[ Patience, Astarion says, while also twining their fingers together, presumably with every intention of keeping their hands held for the rest of their journey. Sometimes, Astarion is so cute that Iorveth can't stand it.
Out they go, finally leaving Gale alone to do whatever it is that weird human wizards do on their free time. Since Iorveth is the one with the map, he eventually takes point after Astarion's initial tugging and leads them both towards the area circled in red―
―but not without stopping by a few food stalls on the way. He's hungry. Pastries and flatbread wraps disappear as soon as Iorveth purchases them, nearly inhaled; he only slows down for dessert, and contentedly crunches his way through a packet of sweet fritters as they get closer to their destination. ]
For a neighborhood meant to be plagued by unnatural disappearances, [ he notes around a mouthful of sweets, ] everything looks remarkably normal.
[ A wide, bustling street with red-roofed houses lining neatly-cobblestoned paths. Almost idyllic, with a nice view of the Chionthar. Iorveth licks powdered sugar off his fingers, trying to identify what would be off about a place like this.
It turns out that he doesn't have to speculate for too long: a few beats later, something in the house nearest them goes off with a ground-shaking bang, and a gust of flame-heated air blasts them from shattered windows, causing Iorveth to drop the rest of his food and to instinctively pull Astarion closer to his side. ]
Hells― [ he snaps, squinting through the cloud of smoke starting to spill from the semi-burning building, dragging both himself and Astarion away from a second blast that never comes. Instead, a petite drow woman sprints out of a smouldering side exit and nearly collides into the both of them, chanting "hot, hot, hot". ]
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Out they go, finally leaving Gale alone to do whatever it is that weird human wizards do on their free time. Since Iorveth is the one with the map, he eventually takes point after Astarion's initial tugging and leads them both towards the area circled in red―
―but not without stopping by a few food stalls on the way. He's hungry. Pastries and flatbread wraps disappear as soon as Iorveth purchases them, nearly inhaled; he only slows down for dessert, and contentedly crunches his way through a packet of sweet fritters as they get closer to their destination. ]
For a neighborhood meant to be plagued by unnatural disappearances, [ he notes around a mouthful of sweets, ] everything looks remarkably normal.
[ A wide, bustling street with red-roofed houses lining neatly-cobblestoned paths. Almost idyllic, with a nice view of the Chionthar. Iorveth licks powdered sugar off his fingers, trying to identify what would be off about a place like this.
It turns out that he doesn't have to speculate for too long: a few beats later, something in the house nearest them goes off with a ground-shaking bang, and a gust of flame-heated air blasts them from shattered windows, causing Iorveth to drop the rest of his food and to instinctively pull Astarion closer to his side. ]
Hells― [ he snaps, squinting through the cloud of smoke starting to spill from the semi-burning building, dragging both himself and Astarion away from a second blast that never comes. Instead, a petite drow woman sprints out of a smouldering side exit and nearly collides into the both of them, chanting "hot, hot, hot". ]