[ "We all know our roles" is incredibly stupid in the sense that it now leaves no room for Astarion to use the "I met him three days ago and I'm just sleeping with him" card, but it also rattles Iorveth's brain again in the same way that Astarion standing his ground back in Henselt's mansion did: it's not that Iorveth expected Astarion to bolt, but the reality of him staying is another nail in Iorveth's rapidly-sealing coffin.
His affection grows teeth. The shift of his weight and the bracing of his balance on the balls of his feet is every bit the kind of thing a wild creature does when cornered, hair standing on end and claws digging into dirt. Sharp and uncompromising, he belatedly notes Astarion's lack of a weapon (fuck, Araj continues to be the worst) and shoves the anti-vampire pack into his companion's arms.
(He has definitely forgotten that Astarion can't use the blessed daggers. Fuck, Part 2.) ]
If you know anything about me, human, you'd know that every attempt to hang me has failed thus far.
[ The Woodland Fox, an elf-shaped cautionary tale. Grief-stricken and utterly merciless, some say. A demon with no reservations when it comes to slaughter for the sake of what he deems is his to protect.
He pulls his bow out of his cradle and braces it in his hands. Henrik sees the gesture and hisses a warning: "one wrong move and I'll make sure the entirety of this city mobilizes against you, elf."
Funny. Iorveth scoffs, and glances over at Astarion. ] Do you fancy our chances?
no subject
His affection grows teeth. The shift of his weight and the bracing of his balance on the balls of his feet is every bit the kind of thing a wild creature does when cornered, hair standing on end and claws digging into dirt. Sharp and uncompromising, he belatedly notes Astarion's lack of a weapon (fuck, Araj continues to be the worst) and shoves the anti-vampire pack into his companion's arms.
(He has definitely forgotten that Astarion can't use the blessed daggers. Fuck, Part 2.) ]
If you know anything about me, human, you'd know that every attempt to hang me has failed thus far.
[ The Woodland Fox, an elf-shaped cautionary tale. Grief-stricken and utterly merciless, some say. A demon with no reservations when it comes to slaughter for the sake of what he deems is his to protect.
He pulls his bow out of his cradle and braces it in his hands. Henrik sees the gesture and hisses a warning: "one wrong move and I'll make sure the entirety of this city mobilizes against you, elf."
Funny. Iorveth scoffs, and glances over at Astarion. ] Do you fancy our chances?