[ He knows Iorveth is bleeding before he sees it, the scent of his blood as familiar as the smell of Lae'zel's sword oil or Gale's nightly tea. Usually, the smell of Iorveth's blood makes his mouth water, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't still entice him, but now it mostly makes him feel angry. It isn't Henrik's blood to shed.
The image of Henrik's bloodied and mangled body lying on the ground flits through his mind, a pleasing but fleeting fantasy. He wants Henrik dead for harming Iorveth and calling him a rat, but even he knows when circumstances aren't on his side. They can always track him down and kill him later, Astarion reassures himself, as long as they survive this encounter.
Raising an eyebrow, he laughs dryly. How utterly wrong Henrik is — firstly about the idea that Iorveth is the one giving commands in this relationship, and secondly about the concept of Astarion talking sense into anyone. ]
Yes, but only one of you has a functional cock, so I suppose it's a trade-off.
[ Immature but impossible to resist. Astarion slings the pack over his shoulders, freeing his hand to flick an arcanely-inclined finger at Henrik. His previously smug expression breaks as he's overcome with an uncontrollable bout of Hideous Laughter, and Astarion yanks on Iorveth's arm to urge him along lest their assailant recover. ]
no subject
The image of Henrik's bloodied and mangled body lying on the ground flits through his mind, a pleasing but fleeting fantasy. He wants Henrik dead for harming Iorveth and calling him a rat, but even he knows when circumstances aren't on his side. They can always track him down and kill him later, Astarion reassures himself, as long as they survive this encounter.
Raising an eyebrow, he laughs dryly. How utterly wrong Henrik is — firstly about the idea that Iorveth is the one giving commands in this relationship, and secondly about the concept of Astarion talking sense into anyone. ]
Yes, but only one of you has a functional cock, so I suppose it's a trade-off.
[ Immature but impossible to resist. Astarion slings the pack over his shoulders, freeing his hand to flick an arcanely-inclined finger at Henrik. His previously smug expression breaks as he's overcome with an uncontrollable bout of Hideous Laughter, and Astarion yanks on Iorveth's arm to urge him along lest their assailant recover. ]