[ Iorveth makes a poor patient; the look he flashes Astarion as he's being pushed and prodded is a carryover from the past, an obstinate, tight-lipped frown that's meant to convey "I'm fine". It relents after a few beats, however, as Iorveth takes note of the persistent (face-wrinkling) frown on Astarion's face, and realizes that perhaps this is all, well―
―Upsetting to him, maybe. He has to force himself to consider the situation if the roles were reversed, and Iorveth internally concedes that he would be furious if someone dragged a blade over any part of Astarion's body.
So. Down he goes and down he stays, grudgingly cooperative, feeling the weight of the tuxedo cat ("oh Max, behave," the gnome tuts at it) shift off of his lap and down to the crook of his now-bent knees. He thinks to say something and reaches to press his palm against Astarion's face, but is interrupted by the half-orc Kurug swinging into the room with bandages and two more prettily-dressed cats that mill around the bed.
"Where should I put these?" he asks helpfully, to which he's instructed by the lady of the house to wait until she's finished putting the poultice on. "Almost done― just a dash of celandine to soothe," she promises. "Did you run afoul of those dreadful Steel Watchers, dears? I swear, that Gortash boy has been finding every and any excuse to intimidate us with those dreadful contraptions."
Tottering over with her bowl, the gnome looks up at Astarion, sympathy clear in her expression. "We all need to be so careful nowadays." ]
no subject
―Upsetting to him, maybe. He has to force himself to consider the situation if the roles were reversed, and Iorveth internally concedes that he would be furious if someone dragged a blade over any part of Astarion's body.
So. Down he goes and down he stays, grudgingly cooperative, feeling the weight of the tuxedo cat ("oh Max, behave," the gnome tuts at it) shift off of his lap and down to the crook of his now-bent knees. He thinks to say something and reaches to press his palm against Astarion's face, but is interrupted by the half-orc Kurug swinging into the room with bandages and two more prettily-dressed cats that mill around the bed.
"Where should I put these?" he asks helpfully, to which he's instructed by the lady of the house to wait until she's finished putting the poultice on. "Almost done― just a dash of celandine to soothe," she promises. "Did you run afoul of those dreadful Steel Watchers, dears? I swear, that Gortash boy has been finding every and any excuse to intimidate us with those dreadful contraptions."
Tottering over with her bowl, the gnome looks up at Astarion, sympathy clear in her expression. "We all need to be so careful nowadays." ]