[ Things. Iorveth almost laughs, but it's natural that Astarion wouldn't know how to patch someone up in a pinch; by all certainty, he's never done it or had it done for him. Doesn't matter, though, as the gnome woman seems to get it, and offers them a place to rest instead of casting them back out to fend for themselves.
It's a little humiliating, though. Being seen like this, and having had this done to him. Iorveth is uncharacteristically silent as he makes his way down the hall to the guest room that the woman indicated, followed by a black tuxedo cat wearing a cat-sized tuxedo. The room in question seems like it might have belonged to a son or daughter that left home: most of the previous inhabitant's personal affects have been removed, but stray traces remain in the form of a pile of books and a poster of a Baldurian bard that still hangs on the wall, faded by time.
Iorveth makes his way to the gnome-sized bed, grunting softly as he sits down with Astarion in tow. The world remains fuzzy around the edges, and he struggles to get his companion in focus when he slowly turns his head to look at him. ]
Help me out of my gear, [ he murmurs. ] ...I'd do it myself, but my hands aren't cooperating.
[ In the background, he can hear the gnomes yelling their conversation: "where did you put your poultice ingredients, dear?" "POULTRY? WHEN DID WE GET CHICKENS, LOVE?" Charming. He tries to shift to move his limp limbs, and is interrupted by the tuxedo cat jumping up onto the bed beside him to sit comfortably on his knee. ]
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It's a little humiliating, though. Being seen like this, and having had this done to him. Iorveth is uncharacteristically silent as he makes his way down the hall to the guest room that the woman indicated, followed by a black tuxedo cat wearing a cat-sized tuxedo. The room in question seems like it might have belonged to a son or daughter that left home: most of the previous inhabitant's personal affects have been removed, but stray traces remain in the form of a pile of books and a poster of a Baldurian bard that still hangs on the wall, faded by time.
Iorveth makes his way to the gnome-sized bed, grunting softly as he sits down with Astarion in tow. The world remains fuzzy around the edges, and he struggles to get his companion in focus when he slowly turns his head to look at him. ]
Help me out of my gear, [ he murmurs. ] ...I'd do it myself, but my hands aren't cooperating.
[ In the background, he can hear the gnomes yelling their conversation: "where did you put your poultice ingredients, dear?" "POULTRY? WHEN DID WE GET CHICKENS, LOVE?" Charming. He tries to shift to move his limp limbs, and is interrupted by the tuxedo cat jumping up onto the bed beside him to sit comfortably on his knee. ]