essea | [ ELVES CATCHALL POST. ]

[ Proof of Iorveth's many virtues: that he's still able to shower Astarion in affection after he treated him so, well, awfully. Astarion objectively doesn't deserve it, but unlike Iorveth, he has no intention of warning him off. He'd rather bask in the undeserved attention, pressing a kiss to the strong bridge of Iorveth's nose. ]

I know. I'm wonderful.

[ It's a brush-off, because he is awful in so many ways, but he doesn't want to argue that Iorveth should think badly of him. (Another awful quality of his. He'd rather Iorveth see him through rose-colored glasses than see him as he truly is.)

A change in subject, lest Iorveth think too long on it and decide that he is awful, actually: ] What were you planning to leave the tower for?

[ Petting Astarion like an oversized cat, with fingers tangled in soft curls tickling the back of Astarion's neck. Iorveth likes this feeling, of not knowing where he ends and where Astarion begins.

The question of what he was planning to do, though. A brief pause, here, anticipating a not-great reaction to the answer, but he answers truthfully. ]

I'd planned to do some research on Athkatla. [ All that song and dance, and he really had planned on going with Astarion from the start. Yes, he could have just said so. No, he didn't. The rudest elf in Toril. ] Find a map, at least.

[ Chronically unable not to plan. Even now, he's spinning webs. ]

I'd also wanted to see if I could find someone to relay a message to Saskia. She'd told me not to hurry back, but she should be expecting me anyway. [ Again: resident unhinged elf was going to lay the groundwork for sticking to his vampire like glue. He really could have said so from the start. ]

Darling.

[ It's difficult to muster up indignance when he's cozy, surrounded by Iorveth's warmth, and being petted gently. He does try, but his expression ends up more of a juvenile pout, annoyed that Iorveth would put him through all of that when he'd intended to come along from the start. He could have just said something before Astarion decided to use his words as daggers! It would have saved him so much brooding time. ]

What if I had never asked?

[ He hadn't been planning on it. He'd been so offended by the suggestion that Iorveth might not come along by default that he'd made himself determined to allow Iorveth to leave for the sake of his pride, no matter how unpleasant the thought.

Obviously, he'd been a little irrational. ]

[ It really was ninety percent Iorveth's fault, for not telling Astarion outright and also for phrasing the hypothetical as "what if I didn't go" instead of literally anything else. But Iorveth is also, if nothing else, a drama king, and that's a dangerous thing to be when one's favorite person is a theater kid.

Case in point. ] If we hadn't quarreled? [ An understatement about a slapfight that was almost a breakup, but. You know. ] I would have chosen to go with you regardless.

[ Plainly. Again, he realizes that this is probably not the best thing to hear after they'd spent the last twelve hours trying to bite each other's head off, but he makes no move to do anything other than tangling his legs with Astarion's and massaging his scalp with the pads of his fingers. ]

[ He should be furious. Iorveth let him stew in all of that unpleasantness and blow up in a way that he'll certainly be embarrassed about tomorrow, when all along, it hadn't even mattered -- Iorveth was always going to be there regardless, and he knew it. Somehow, though, his love-addled brain manages to find this endearing. Iorveth is a drama queen who made him suffer for no reason, but Iorveth also loves him enough that he always intended to stay. How romantic!

He still has his pride, though, so he's sure to grouse, ] You unbearable man.

[ He's still nestled against Iorveth's body, very much bearing him. ]

You let me think you would rather dance naked in the forest with wood elves [ --or, you know, whatever the Aen Seidhe do-- ] than stay by my side.

The Aen Seidhe don't "dance naked". [ Because that's the important thing here, right. That said, he knows what Astarion means, so he presses another kiss to his forehead, resting his lips there for a good few moments. Drinking him in. ] But I would rather stay clothed and in bed with you than watch pricks dangle in the night, yes.

[ His mouth travels down to Astarion's cheek, then to the corner of his mouth. Iorveth considers whether or not he would be allowed a proper kiss, but is interrupted, again, by Gale and his immaculate timing, his friendly voice cutting through their hushed conversation with almost comedic ignorance:

"Iorveth! I've made some breakfast, if you'd care to join me. My omelettes are looking quite fluffy this morning, if I may say so myself."

A low sigh, not quite sharp enough to sound annoyed. ]

If I pretend to be trancing, he might bring a tray up like a good housewife.

Edited 2025-02-11 14:32 (UTC)

[ Astarion would prefer if Iorveth just stayed here in bed with him, kissing him and stroking his hair, but he's already been selfish enough today. The smell of Gale's cooking wafts up the stairs, and even Astarion has to admit that it smells enticing, although it's nothing compared to the smell of fresh blood. Iorveth deserves a nice breakfast. Astarion has watched him scarf down enough food to know that. ]

Go, if you want.

[ That's what he says, anyway, although his body language tells a different story, fingers curling into the fabric of Iorveth's shirt. ]

I'll still be here, being tempting.

[ As usual. ]

[ Iorveth's stomach growls; only natural, since he's still alive. But he watches Astarion and feels the fingers in his shirt, remembers the revelation that Astarion isn't a fan of asking. Exhausted himself of it, probably.

(Another twist of Iorveth's gut; did he sound at all like Cazador, demanding something that he might eventually take away? Monstrous, disgusting.)

Leaning in, he takes the tip of Astarion's ear in his mouth, and nibbles at it lightly. ]

I'll take my chances with the tray, I think.

[ Another call from below: "Iorveth? Are you asleep?" (If he was before, he certainly wouldn't be now, with the way Gale is hollering.) Tara's voice echoes soon thereafter: "Mr. Dekarios, don't be so loud. I can go see to him if you're so afraid of your eggs browning."

Iorveth breathes a half-laugh. ] Mother is coming.

[ His perfect man, staying despite being told otherwise. Astarion can hardly believe he was blackout angry at him only minutes ago. That won't be a problem, though; now that they've cleared the air, he's certain it won't ever happen again. It isn't like they're deeply unhealthy or anything.

Astarion makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. ]

Tara is fond of you, you know.

[ Perhaps it's a wood elf thing, the connection to nature that makes all animals friendly toward him. Or maybe it's just that Tara can see Iorveth's innate goodness shining out, the same way Astarion can. ]

...You've a way with cats.

[ "I certainly hope I didn't just hear you refer to me with such a term," comes Tara's indignant voice as she flutters through the doorway. ]

[ Surely nothing terrible will ever happen again to the two of them, and they'll navigate their future journey sanely and safely without conflict. Surely.

In the meantime: Tara. In an effort to be somewhat polite (?) to the tressym, Iorveth rolls and sits up, sliding along soft bedsheets so that he has his back to the headboard with Astarion still tucked against his chest. The usual position, with Astarion draped like a silver vampire-shaped blanket over Iorveth's body. ]

Tara. [ An implicit correction. Not a cat, yes, they know. She has a name!!! ] Magnanimous of you, to allow Gale to use you as an envoy.

[ Their visitor flaps onto the edge of the bed, where she stretches her wings with avian-feline grace. "Mr. Dekarios can get quite ambitious about breakfast. But considering his talent in the kitchen, you should consider yourself lucky to be invited to his table."

Protective, Iorveth thinks. The epitome of "I'm allowed to bully him, but not you." Kind of reminds him of someone, actually. (Ha ha.)

"I think we may even have some blood sausage in the pantry," she continues. ]

[ Their positions now reversed, Astarion doesn't follow Iorveth's lead in shifting onto his side. He enjoys crushing Iorveth under his weight (and also, how dare you suggest he weighs that much!). Sprawled across Iorveth's body, he closes his eyes and ignores Tara entirely until she mentions blood (sausage), at which point he cracks a singular eye open. ]

Wonderful. We'll take breakfast in bed.

[ All of Tara's fur-feathers stand on end in offense. "Well, it seems Mr. Dekarios isn't the only one who's forgotten his manners!" she huffs. "Breakfast will be served downstairs at the table, as is proper."

That's what she says, anyway, but Astarion gets the sense that she doesn't want to see Gale eating alone at an empty table. ]

Gale could come join us here.

[ A waist around Astarion's waist, fingers still tracing soft curls. Iorveth is still exceedingly comfortable in his current position, and now, with Astarion pressed against him and on top of him, he's also in no position to move unless he coaxes Astarion off.

Which, Tara may notice, Iorveth is not doing. She narrows her eyes at the both of them, and Iorveth can swear that she understands how respectful it is that he isn't dislodging a content feline from his lap.

"This is Gale's house, and you should really abide by his rules," she finally decides. Using Gale instead of Mr. Dekarios― she must really be serious. "I'm sure you two have enjoyed each other all night, and have some time for the man who'll spend all day looking into your affairs."

Iorveth could laugh about "enjoyed each other all night": more like "tried to kill each other all night", actually. But he doesn't say that, and presses his lips to the crown of Astarion's head. ]

I'll go where you go, [ he murmurs, slyly. ]

[ 'I'll go where you go.' Iorveth is being so very sweet that Astarion really doesn't want to go; he'd rather stay here, pressing Iorveth into the mattress and kissing all over his face until he can't think straight. He supposes there is some merit to what Tara has to say, though: Gale will be looking into his affairs all day, and he's been remarkably helpful already. Sitting at the breakfast table is probably the least Astarion can do to repay him.

So, with considerable effort, he shifts off of Iorveth and onto his back, immediately scowling at the loss of Iorveth's warmth against his skin. ]

Fine. I'd hate to deprive Gale of his opportunity to play host.

[ Reciprocally, Iorveth mourns the lack of weight against his chest, but hides his own frown with a hand to his face, fixing the positioning of his eyepatch over his missing eye. ]

A good opportunity to ask him if there are faster ways to travel south that doesn't involve walking back the way we came.

[ Can't these wizards just... magic them somewhere!! Iorveth remembers the waypoints they'd been able to take advantage of while they still had the tadpoles in their heads, but curiously, those portals went very quiet after the Netherbrain collapsed. Hm.

He swings his legs off the bed, and allows Tara to lead them back downstairs and to the dining room; she tells them to wait for a second, and briefly flutters about to close some of the curtains that Gale'd opened to let in the morning light, using her small kitty mouth to tug at the drapery. Very cute, though Iorveth would get his remaining eye clawed out if he dared to say so.

Once the room is sufficiently sun-proofed, Gale ushers them in to marvel at the spread: "I may have gotten a tad carried away," he beams, about the assortment of omelets and rolls, the charcuterie board (with black pudding), the oatmeal and fruits.

Brow raised: ] It pays to be a wizard, apparently. [ Again, Gale is rich. Like, Wyll-rich, probably. The biased part of Iorveth says "of course the two humans of the group would have the most money." ]

[ Gods, Gale really does want to be a host. Astarion can't find it in himself to scoff; the man is ridiculously earnest and overeager, but perhaps those aren't the awful things he once thought him to be. Astarion sits at the table, picking up a fork and awkwardly poking at the black pudding. It's been a long time since he had use for silverware, but it's sweet that Gale thought of him. Admittedly, he's not sure how pleasant the experience of eating will be, but he plans to lie to spare Gale's feelings if it's horrible. ]

Yes, but you have to do all of that studying.

[ He makes a face. Gross! ]

Mm. Perhaps I should get back into the magistrate business, if you're so fond of extravagant living.

[ As if there's any universe where that's possible, or any universe in which Iorveth is interested in extravagant living. ]

[ Studying, Astarion says contemptuously, and Iorveth wonders for a brief moment if pre-spawn Astarion had ever spent any amount of time holed up in a library pouring over books about ordinances. In truth, Iorveth found something very attractive about Astarion lounging about on their bed in Elfsong, flipping through pages with infuriating elegance; sure, the books themselves were often trash, but Astarion looked very nice reading them.

Settled in the seat adjacent, Iorveth glances at him, appraising. ]

And risk earning your ire for making you wear frumpy robes? I think not.

[ Iorveth has no idea what magistrates wear, actually, but he's assuming.

Gale clears his throat from the opposite side of the table, and gestures towards the food. "All things we can consider while we eat." Implied: "I will be so upset if you critique the food after it gets cold." Iorveth doesn't need more coaxing, and gets to work demolishing the omelettes in record time while Tara picks gracefully at her own plate full of small fish.

After a bit of eating, Gale ventures: "One small question that came to me in the night― if it turns out that the cloak you're looking for has, ah, fallen into the hands of... unfriendly individuals, would you still be keen on procuring it?" ]

[ The idea that Iorveth would 'risk earning his ire' after having done just that (and having done it plenty of times previous, too) is ridiculous, but he is right: Astarion would be furious if he had to wear frumpy robes. Part of him misses the power and prestige that came with being an important person, but he also knows that it would be nearly impossible to ever live that sort of lifestyle again. His vampirism flies under the radar because he simply isn't relevant enough for people to pay attention; as a magistrate, everyone would be looking for reasons to extort him, and being undead would be a vulnerability he couldn't afford.

Besides, he's not really into the whole 'working' thing.

He takes small bites of the blood pudding, a little apprehensive of chewing and swallowing solid food instead of gulping down blood. It feels strange — not unpleasant, but strange. It's been two centuries since he consumed anything but pure blood. The parts of the sausage that aren't blood do very little for him, but it's nice to be included.

Astarion is lovingly watching Iorveth inhale his meal when Gale speaks up. 'Unfriendly individuals'. He laughs under his breath. ]

Oh, we've never had to contend with unfriendly individuals before.

[ It's not like they killed a giant evil brain or anything. ]

Of course I'd still be keen. I don't care what we have to do or who we have to kill.

[ A bit of a milestone, watching Astarion eat. Iorveth subtly shifts and nudges Astarion's knee with his own after that first nibble, a gesture of acknowledgement more than anything else.

Meanwhile, Gale is thinking over a mouthful of oatmeal, considering the response he's gotten. "Yes, we did do a good job of saving the wold, didn't we." Proud of that, obviously. "I was rather more― well, afraid wouldn't be the right term. Considering, perhaps. That is..."

A little mealy-mouthed. Iorveth, stacking cheese and cured meat on top of his slice of toast, tips his head as if to say get on with it, which Gale obliges.

"...That is, I had wondered if it might be unpleasant for you, if the cloak had found its way to another vampire. All still hypothetical, of course."

Gale hadn't been around for Cazador or the hundreds of spawn locked under the palace, so Iorveth doesn't begrudge him his lack of reference; he glances towards Astarion, the shrug written on his expression. Iorveth has no hangups about vampire hunting again, if need be. ]

[ Another vampire. Astarion wrinkles his nose, displeased at the thought of dealing with more undead. He's had his fill of vampires a hundred times over, and he would really prefer not to deal with one again, especially one lacking a significant vulnerability. It would be trivial for Iorveth to drag a vampire out into the sun, but if their enemy is in possession of the cloak, that puts a damper on things. ]

...Well, as I said. I'll kill anyone.

[ He sniffs. ]

I've killed a vampire before. It wasn't so hard.

[ A huge understatement, but Gale doesn't need to know that. ]

[ Astarion killed the vampire, as far as Iorveth is concerned. He doesn't know of any others (sorry Strahd), and by all accounts, a vampire who'd managed to collect enough souls to consider the Rite of Profane Ascension must have made Cazador one of the most powerful vampires out there.

Or, at least, the most careful, until he wasn't. Iorveth glances at Astarion, remembering how he'd absolutely pulverized that rat until he was a bloody mess; Astarion is the love of his life, truly.

While Iorveth draws hearts around Astarion's head, Gale keeps the conversation going. "Gods, I do wish you'd told us that you were going to do it. Far be it for us to have told you how to go about things, but we could have offered assistance."

A thing that Gale obviously still thinks about. Which is perhaps why he brought this up in the first place. "I am very happy to help you when I can, Astarion."

Big soft brown eyes. Wet dog very much wants to be friends with fluffy cat. ]

[ Astarion falters. Genuine displays of emotion from anyone who isn't Iorveth have always been difficult and uncomfortable to navigate, especially when it's regarding something so private and somewhat embarrassing as his history with Cazador. He looks down at his plate, poking the sausage with his fork. ]

...What's done is done.

[ Maybe he should have recruited the others, but he was terrified of them seeing something so personal. He couldn't bear the thought of that vulnerability; he could barely bear it with Iorveth. Still, it's kind of Gale. ]

But thank you. I do appreciate it.

[ He glances back up. ]

For now, the only help I need from you is locating that cloak. [ A pause, during which he glances at Iorveth's nearly empty plate. ] And, I suppose, continuing to feed this feral beast.

[ "And find that cloak I will," Gale replies, warm and happy to be asked. "As for Iorveth, well..."

Iorveth reaches for another helping of cheese, head tipped in distinct "feral animal" fashion.

"...I'll do my best."

Poor Gale. Iorveth laughs despite himself, low and soft. ] I'm already outstaying my welcome. Don't give him any more reasons to want to throw me out.

[ A wave of his hand, dismissive. Gale looks like he wants to say something about that, but is interrupted by Iorveth's addendum: ] For a start, we'll be going out tonight. No need to play host for dinner.

Oh, [ Astarion says. He'd forgotten all about his plan to visit the Yawning Portal, too distracted by their argument and subsequent making up. He straightens up, attentive. ] Yes, he's right. We do have plans.

[ "Oh," Gale echoes, seemingly surprised that Iorveth has any interest in 'going out'. "Well, that's wonderful. I did hope that you would get to appreciate Waterdeep's many splendors." He pauses, watching Iorveth eat. "—But I'll leave some food for you when you return, regardless. I'm used to cooking for an army nowadays, after all."

Astarion raises an eyebrow. Perhaps Gale misses the camaraderie of being in a group, and he actually wants to keep them here in the city for as long as he can. A strange realization — he'd been certain they'd be burdens to him, but Gale seems to enjoy the company. It's easy to forget that he'd spent a year locked in this tower, all alone with his problems. Maybe it's been difficult to return to such a place by himself. ]

We'll need to root through your closet, of course.

[ He can't go out looking less than stunning! Gale frowns a little at that. "You know, there are plenty of clothing shops in the city..." ]

Ugh. I promise I won't destroy any more of your things, [ he says, rolling his eyes as if Gale is being dramatic. ] Happy?

[ Gale is so... nice. Not a bad thing, in all certainty, but people-pleasing is what got a Netherese orb stuck in his chest, and what got him stuck with two finnicky (?) elves. He really needs some more self-preservation instincts, Iorveth thinks.

(Then again, Iorveth is the most paranoid person in the world, so there's that for comparison's sake.)

"I should hope you wouldn't," is the equivalent of a verbal finger-wag. Very ineffective against vampires. "I know you tried to open one of my chests last night－ it was very cross this morning."

A physical finger-wag. Gale continues: "Now, I can give you two some coin if you promise not to spend it in an ill-advised way. Fey Day is just around the bend, which means that there should be plenty of pretty things to peruse."

Gods. ] You're going to regret offering.

[ Astarion beams. Gale is so nice, and so easy to extort things from. Their very own little dog, wagging his tail and begging to be liked. He places a delicate hand over his heart, turning solemn. ]

Oh, I'd never spend money in an ill-advised way.

[ It can't be ill-advised if you don't take advice in the first place. Astarion is a horrible, reckless spender, too excited by the concept of 'having things' to control himself in any meaningful way. It isn't just the excitement of having something pretty in his possession—although that's certainly part of it—but also the wonderful feeling of getting to choose, of being a real person again. He'd longed for so many things during his time as a spawn: a shiny ring in a window, a book on the shelf, a nice bottle of wine. Now, he's determined to buy himself all of the things he could never have. ]

I expect we'll need to trance first [ —because screaming at each other is a bit exhausting— ] but we'll be out of your hair [ and in his wallet ] the moment the sun goes down.

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