essea | [ ELVES CATCHALL POST. ]

[ A blink, followed by a tired laugh despite himself. ]

I would hope you wouldn't want to gag me. It'd take the fun out of things.

[ Implying that Astarion would find it very boring if Iorveth didn't put his mouth to good use, either by giving him shit or doing salacious things. The kind of repartee he can engage in, now that he's not in (immediate) danger of being dead.

He steps over Damris and slinks over to Astarion, stroking silver hair with obvious affection and relief. He lets the touch linger, fingers running over one pointed ear, before he breaks away. ]

Go rest. I'll handle the binding― I happen to be an expert.

[ All the times he tied people up and tortured them for intel were just preludes to this particular moment. Crouching down, he slides his arms under Damris's armpits and starts to drag him into the suite's small study, which is a modest-sized room furnished with a comfortable-looking divan and a writing desk. ]

[ Astarion nearly mentions that he didn't say which of them would be bound and gagged, but-- it's rather obvious. It wouldn't be sexy at all if Astarion were to start hyperventilating during the act (no matter how much Iorveth has probably wished to gag him unsexily since they met). But no, Astarion wouldn't really want to gag Iorveth. He loves his mouth too much, and the ridiculous things it says, and the way Iorveth looks when he smiles.

He has no such issue with gagging Damris, though. The less he speaks, the better. ]

I'll stay, [ he says, trailing behind Iorveth--because he didn't say he'd help--and lounging on the divan. Casual, like they didn't just sedate a man and now plan to tie him up. ] You know I like to watch your hands at work.

[ Like a freak. But more importantly: ]

...And I don't like the idea of you alone with him after he's tasted your blood. [ He isn't sure how long it will take for Damris to wake, or if he'll even wake at all without being injected with the antidote, but the thought of anything more happening to endanger Iorveth makes him sick. ] You may not know this because I'm in possession of such an iron will [ ha ] but a hungry vampire is really quite beastly.

[ No pushback at all about Astarion staying. As much as Iorveth likes to give Astarion space to decompress when necessary, he also likes seeing silver in his peripheral: he can't help but smile briefly to himself when he spots Astarion draping onto furniture like an oversized cat.

Quelling the temptation to gravitate towards that lounging form, Iorveth does as suggested, and keeps his hands busy. A brief trip to the other room with his pack later, he starts binding Damris with a bit of climbing rope he'd kept in his survival kit, and deftly secures long arms behind the small of the tiefling's back, then works to frog-tie long, long legs so that the ankles are bound securely to the thighs. It requires a fair bit of finessing and the threat of horns poking out his eye again, but Iorveth works with meticulous efficiency.

While that's happening: ] I'm aware that my sweet cat is the exception, not the rule.

[ A soft huff, as Damris lists against his front. His face does sway uncomfortably close to his neck, but he seems very much knocked out. ]

Though, speaking of. I need you to disinfect my finger later. [ Brandishing the index that Damris licked. Iorveth shudders. ]

[ Is it wrong that it's kind of hot watching Iorveth hogtie someone? Ooh, he's so capable.

To be fair, Iorveth is hot doing nearly anything, which is why Astarion will never understand how he denigrates his appearance so much. He could be hideous and Astarion would still love him, obviously, but he isn't; a little asymmetry never hurt anyone. Very rugged, very handsome.

With a laugh: ] Come, now. They say their mouths are cleaner than ours.

[ That's dogs.

His smile fades as he looks at Damris, limp and drooling a little bit. ]

You know, when I think of how he treated you, I wonder if it wouldn't have been better to just kill him.

[ Capable of all kinds of lurid tying techniques, and yet not compelled at all to put them to use on Astarion. Damris is strung up like a holiday pheasant, and left to rest along a stack of cushions, which is as much comfort as Iorveth is willing to give the guy for now.

With that done, he wipes his hands of Damris (literally), palms to drawn (purple) curtains, dragging down. ]

He treated me no differently from how most usually treat me.

[ Matter-of-factly. Not self-pitying or self-deprecating in any way: like stating the weather, or commenting on a stain in the carpet. ]

You needn't mind it so much. I only wish to be looked upon favorably by those I care for.

[ Like Astarion, for example. He moves towards the divan, and sits on the floor next to it. ]

[ Astarion sits up, feet on the floor, so that he can reach over to stroke Iorveth's hair gently. Iorveth deserves some soft handling after everything he's been through today. Idly, he runs a thumb down the shell of Iorveth's ear. He couldn't care less if Iorveth has pointy ears or not, but they're his pointy ears, so Astarion loves them. ]

I do mind it.

[ Argumentative, but affectionate. Iorveth might be used to this sort of treatment, but Astarion never grew used to it, ever. Every scornful look and disdainful comment over the past two centuries made him seethe, and now is no different. ]

No one should ever disrespect us again.

[ Sitting up an inch, Iorveth cranes his neck to tip into the hand sifting through his hair. The most docile he'll ever let himself be, if only because he trusts the man touching him not to judge him negatively for accepting softness.

A few more seconds in that position, and he tilts to rest his head on Astarion's knee. ]

I've earned my disrespect, unlike you.

[ "I'm a terrorist, remember?" A reminder that Iorveth has earned his reputation through blood and fire, though he also understands that that's not the entirety of what Astarion is talking about when he mentions disrespect. ]

But, mm. [ Nosing against the crest of Astarion's knee: ] I wouldn't say no to killing anyone who disrespects you.

[ Astarion loves Iorveth, he does. But that doesn't mean Iorveth doesn't fucking irritate him sometimes. He frowns at 'I've earned my disrespect', displeased. Who cares if Iorveth did a little light terrorism? Like terrorism's such a crime?

Well. Maybe it is, but he doesn't care. Iorveth could mass murder every damn human in the world, and he'd still be the best person on this planet. Astarion wouldn't even miss them! Except maybe Gale. And Wyll. The jury's still out on Minsc.

He reaches down, taking Iorveth's head in his hands, thumbs pressed against the line of his jaw. ]

When will you get it through your thick skull? I'm in love with you, you infuriating man. Disrespect to you is disrespect to me.

[ Very stubborn. Iorveth thinks that Astarion will burst a blood vessel in his brain if he chose to get angry about every human that will inevitably treat Iorveth with the sort of contempt that Iorveth has come to expect, but he doesn't say so. No point in giving Astarion more grief than he has today; besides, he's touched that there's someone on this Godsforsaken planet that cares for him the way Astarion does.

Tilting sideways into the hands holding him, he presses his lips to one slim finger, then takes the tip of Astarion's thumb in his mouth. A light nip, then he lets go to kiss along its side. ]

You'd find me boring if I were respectable.

[ He smiles against that thumb, crooked and knowing, then gentles. ]

...I'm lucky to have you, Astarion.

You are.

[ It doesn't always feel like it, and it certainly doesn't today, when Astarion's mere presence nearly got Iorveth killed. All the same, he won't argue with Iorveth if he wants to feel lucky. What, like he's going to try to talk Iorveth out of loving him? He's not that much of an idiot.

His thumb grazes Iorveth's lower lip, as reverent as someone like him can be. Then: ]

It might come as a surprise, seeing as how brave and dashing I was about it all. [ He sighs. ] But I did fear that I would lose you tonight.

Edited 2025-05-20 02:41 (UTC)

[ Silence hangs for a moment, as Iorveth gives that statement the consideration that he thinks it deserves. He's never thought of himself as expendable (the opposite; he's always been aware that the future of his clan hinges on how long he could evade the ire of his enemies), but there was always the expectation that the only logical end of his crusade was, well. His end. Death, like a promise just beyond the horizon.

Sliding up from the floor onto the divan, Iorveth perches next to Astarion on the divan. Serious, watchful. ]

I'd always assumed I would die before you.

[ For obvious reasons (their different lifespans), and for circumstantial reasons (Iorveth is a highly wanted man, not in a good way). A blunt statement of truth, followed by something more careful, searching: ]

But I also want you to live without the fear of losing me.

[ A conundrum. It's not like either of them are gods; they get hurt, they can be killed. ]

[ It often rankles how blasé Iorveth is about his own death. Doesn't he know that it'll plunge Astarion back into an eternity of loneliness again? No doubt he thinks that Astarion will find a way to move on, form new relationships, live a full life without him. Astarion doesn't want to do any of those things, though, not if Iorveth isn't there alongside him. He's a brat, and he only wants things his way. ]

Sometimes, [ he says hesitantly, afraid what Iorveth might think of him, ] I fantasize about what it would have been like if I had finished that ritual.

[ Iorveth was so proud of him for not completing it. Of course he'll be disappointed to hear that Astarion still thinks about it. ]

I could have bitten you. [ Quickly, he adds, ] And I would have let you bite me, in turn.

[ Easy to say now. Back then, he'd still been terrified of Iorveth hurting him. He would have liked nothing more than to be able to control him. ]

We would have been so powerful. Nobody would ever hurt us again.

[ Funny, how Iorveth is so willing to channel "what you want to do isn't necessarily what you're going to do" to everybody but Astarion. He acknowledges it as his own character flaw and bias, that he holds Astarion above people who are living similar circumstances; again, there are certain shapes of justice and morality that he holds onto with clawed fingers and tenterhooks, but if he had to choose between being moral or being loyal, he knows which one he'd choose every single time.

He leans backwards on the heels of his hands, twisting his torso to look at Astarion in profile. Evaluating. It isn't pleasant to know that Astarion still thinks about relying on the crutch of absolute power, but it doesn't manifest as anything beyond a flick of his gaze upwards towards the ceiling, contemplative. ]

In a broad sense, perhaps.

[ Being powerful, being immortal. Iorveth isn't an expert on vampires, and therefore can't speak with any certainty about what being a vampire ascendant would have really meant. But he's seen Cazador, and he's tangentially seen what sort of philosophies Alkam has instilled his spawn, and none of the evidence point to anything he'd want Astarion to become.

He hums under his breath, long legs crossing at the ankles. ]

But I wonder if that power wouldn't have become your entire world.

[ Delusionally, Astarion had hoped that Iorveth would gush about how much he would love for Astarion to turn him into a vampire and whisk him away to his castle where they could live in eternal undeath together. Realistically, he knows that Iorveth would never say such a thing, but he's disappointed regardless.

He lists against the singular arm of the divan, scowling. It isn't fair, any of it. ]

Does it disgust you?

[ Asked without a glance Iorveth's way, instead staring at Damris's unconscious, hogtied body. He doesn't really want to know, he just wants to brood. ]

To know that I'm not half as noble as you pretend I am?

[ Familiar tactic. Hurt before you can be hurt. Disgust isn't a term Iorveth would use to describe his feelings for Astarion, and Astarion should be as certain of that truth as he is about not finding Iorveth disgusting; Astarion should also know that it rankles to be told that Iorveth's opinion of Astarion is rooted in some sort of fantasy, and not what Iorveth has observed.

He should be patient. He knows he should. Astarion likes to brood－ it's how he copes. But Iorveth frowns regardless, and sighs through his teeth. ]

Do I find it disgusting that you fantasize about keeping me forever? No.

[ It's flattering, actually, even if the methodology might be questionable. Again, though, stones and glass houses, etc. ]

I understand the difficulty of caring in a world that would deny us the ability to. Especially after my blunder tonight.

[ Iorveth is so annoying that he doesn't even let Astarion brood properly. At least say something mean to him so that he can really feel bad about himself! Astarion scowls, straightening back up again. ]

Are we calling being poisoned a 'blunder' now?

[ Idiot. ]

You've done nothing wrong. It's that horrible tiefling who's to blame.

[ Well. He softens (just a bit). Damris undoubtedly had no qualms with sacrificing someone else to save his own ass, but it probably wasn't his idea. ]

...And Alkam. And that damned old lady, for putting us on this quest to begin with.

[ Isn't allowing oneself to be poisoned a blunder? Iorveth feels that way, at least, though he doesn't speak on it further. There's no point, and besides, speaking of: he wants to wash all the poison-sweat from his body, now that they're back in the relative safety (sans Damris's somewhat intrusive presence) of their suite.

He gets up off the divan, straightens his spine, then makes his way towards the door. ]

Alkam is an unhappy byproduct of our current situation. I don't trust the crone who sent us to him: to her, this must all be entertainment.

[ Maybe they should just kill her. Probably not so easy, if she's made it to senility without anyone having slit her throat. ]

I blame myself for being unprepared, but I'll not make that mistake again. Especially if it's making you contemplate ascension.

[ Astarion stands, too, intending to follow even if he's not sure whether he's invited or if Iorveth is choosing to leave to be alone. It would be reasonable if he were. It's been a long day (night), and being poisoned must drain someone's energy. Admittedly, he wouldn't know. He's never been poisoned.

As he trails behind Iorveth, he gives Damris's unconscious body a little kick for good measure. ]

It's not like I'm going to actually do it.

[ He sounds a little sullen, like an unruly child trying to justify his bad behavior. ]

I mean, do you have any idea how long it would take to round up seven thousand sacrifices?

[ Astarion does have the hardest life on the planet. Iorveth wisely refrains from answering that question ("yeah, about two hundred years with seven spawn, according to Cazador"), because it would be horrendous, even by his mean elf standards.

He doesn't mind Astarion following. Honestly, he'd thought Astarion would want the time and space to brood, so it's a pleasant surprise that he trails along, sullen as he still seems to be. ]

You could go to Avernus and appeal to Mephistopheles directly.

[ Dryly. Astarion's been down to the House of Hope once before, so another trip to a similar realm may not faze him all that much. That said, the tone here is: "you shouldn't actually do that, though".

Into the comically palatial bathroom Iorveth goes, the magic-ed bathwater heating up in the presence of the two elves. The scent of lavender rises up from violet steam; for once, Iorveth is happy to smell it. Alkam's manor smelled like an alchemy experiment went awry. ]

[ Astarion settles down on the floor within arm's reach of the water, in case Iorveth needs another hair-washing or just some idle petting. The thought of Iorveth being out of arm's reach after the events of tonight makes his skin prickle unpleasantly, actually. He might never let Iorveth out of his sight again for fear of something happening to him. Just when he starts to believe the world might not be an entirely awful place, something happens to kickstart those neuroses right back up. ]

I'm not so desperate yet that I'm willing to travel to the Hells again.

[ He flicks the sweet-smelling water. ]

...Besides, you'd despise me for it, and then ascension wouldn't be any good to me at all.

[ A catch-22: he could do horrible things to give Iorveth eternal life, but then Iorveth would spend that eternal life disappointed in him. ]

[ Not-quite-sexy stripping. Iorveth peels his sweat-sticky layers from his body, dropping them carefully in a hamper for cleaning later. It was a nice outfit meant to accommodate going out and buying something shiny for Astarion's pleasure, so he'll want it in good condition for another day.

His eyepatch is the last bit to get removed, and he places it next to Astarion for safekeeping. The ring-necklace stays. He prefers to wear it on his skin like a second tattoo. ]

I wouldn't despise you. [ An observation and a half-revelation, as he dips into the water. ] But every vampire we've seen thus far has lived their un-life holed up in a tasteless mansion with intolerable minions. If that's to be my fate, I wouldn't choose it happily.

[ Keeping close, glancing up at Astarion from inside the shallow pool: ] Does that put us at odds?

[ He lets his cold hand dangle in the warm water, heating it up. Better to let it reach something resembling living body temperature before he tries to touch Iorveth with it. Astarion would hate to frighten Iorveth with a freezing hand on the back of his neck; after what he's been through today, that might be the thing that gives him a fatal heart attack. ]

I already said I'd spend my un-life holed up in some straw hut with intolerable elves for you.

[ He still doesn't really get how the Aen Seidhe live.

Then, grousing a little: ] But I suppose it would be nice if you didn't make eternity with me sound like a prison sentence.

[ Hm. Sliding down so that the back of his head settles against the edge of the pool, shoulders under the water and his hair (slightly longer since the last time Astarion trimmed it) swimming around him, Iorveth marinates for a second. ]

So you say, after making life in the forest sound like an intolerable concession.

[ Apparently, Astarion still thinks wood elves just kind of. Roll around in dirt and sleep on beds made of leaves. (Maybe some of them do???) He doesn't want to start a fight after a stressful night and an unsuccessful mission, but here he is anyway. ]

I said I want to build my future with you, in whatever form that takes. With you, you dolt.

[ Eternity is a long time, if they manage to secure it for the both of them. Iorveth is of the opinion that neither of them should suffer it. ]

[ Life in the forest kind of is an intolerable concession, but it's one he was willing to tolerate because Iorveth would be there. He would give up nearly anything to be with Iorveth, although admittedly, he had very little to give up in the first place. What would he have been doing right now, if not this? Skulking around in the Underdark surrounded by his awful siblings and seven thousand people who hate him. ]

A future with an expiration date, you mean.

[ For one of them, anyway, but the end of Iorveth's life feels a lot like the end of his life. The trials of having one singular person who has made life worth living; without said person, it all seems very bleak. ]

...Well. I guess I'm already fortunate to have as much of you as I do.

[ He doesn't sound wholly convinced of this. Astarion has never been the type to be content with what he has. ]

[ An extended silence after Astarion seems to give up on the matter of their future (Astarion's future), and Iorveth sighs. Sitting back up again, water displacing gently around him, he turns and reaches up－

－and tugs on Astarion's arms, hopefully forcing him to slide, clothes and all, into the water. Like picking up and dumping an unruly, sullen cat into a bath. Which is basically what's happening, as far as Iorveth is concerned. ]

Idiot. [ Again. ] You might not, but I'll claw and fight until my last breath for a way to extend my life without you having to ascend.

[ Deranged elf, always swimming up waterfalls and fighting obviously losing battles. Any hardship or suffering feels worth it if it contributes to the future of the people he loves. ]

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