[ His hand is getting sticky, but he presses it back to Iorveth's shoulder anyway; it's the only thing he's capable of doing to help, and by the gods, he's going to do it. ]
We need, ah— [ Astarion looks to Iorveth, uncertain. Every wound he and the other spawn sustained before the Nautiloid was left to heal on its own, their regenerative factors doing the hard work. Every wound he sustained after the Nautiloid has been dealt with magically. He hasn't the slightest idea what one requires to fix this sort of injury, but he hopes the woman does. ] Things.
[ "You poor dear," she says to Iorveth, and then to Astarion, "There's a guest room down the hall." She points down a corridor lined with kitschy knick-knacks. "Sit yourselves down and I'll be in shortly."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" comes the doddery voice from upstairs. ]
no subject
We need, ah— [ Astarion looks to Iorveth, uncertain. Every wound he and the other spawn sustained before the Nautiloid was left to heal on its own, their regenerative factors doing the hard work. Every wound he sustained after the Nautiloid has been dealt with magically. He hasn't the slightest idea what one requires to fix this sort of injury, but he hopes the woman does. ] Things.
[ "You poor dear," she says to Iorveth, and then to Astarion, "There's a guest room down the hall." She points down a corridor lined with kitschy knick-knacks. "Sit yourselves down and I'll be in shortly."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" comes the doddery voice from upstairs. ]