[ It's Iorveth's job to have conviction when no one else does: that's the whole point of him, stateless radical that he is. If he loses hope, an entire group of people who depend on him despair－ he's acclimated to that responsibility, and he extends it here, too, for this particular circumstance. Force of (bad?) habit.
Poor Astarion, having to deal with Iorveth's terminal inability to live without regrets. They truly are opposites of each other in every way, and once upon a time, Iorveth might have thought that they disagree about the things that really matter. But, again, Iorveth doesn't love easy. He likes friction, rapport, a back-and-forth.
Which is why he considers Astarion's assertion, and counters it with one of his own. ] The opposite, I think. She mentioned me as an item because she wanted to barter with you. And if she's the one causing your nightmares, she's doing it to weaken your resolve.
[ Why? He has no idea. But a mortal thrall is likely less useful than an immortal one, and barring that, Iorveth mirrors Astarion's assumption that, if he were a terrible old hag, he'd want Astarion for himself. ]
But I tire of this farce. Cast invisibility on me, and I'll infiltrate the damned shop. I'll put every cloak I can get my hands on in a bag, set the place on fire, and leave.
[ Astarion sputters. Of course Iorveth would suggest such a thing. He is, after all, deranged. Astarion usually loves Iorveth's derangement, but this time is— ridiculous. Reckless even by his standards. His hand closes tightly around Iorveth's wrist, and he shakes his head. ]
Are you mad, walking into a hag's den and stealing from her? If she discovered you, she'd disintegrate you. Or bake you into a pie.
[ Or whatever hags do. He isn't particularly knowledgeable about them, aside from knowing that whatever this creature could do to Iorveth is unthinkably awful. Astarion can barely tolerate the thought of Iorveth stubbing his toe. ]
Besides, if anyone should break into her lair...
[ He swallows, uncertain. ]
I suppose it should be me. I am a rather accomplished thief. And, besides, she might have her precious cloaks behind a lock.
[ Iorveth, a man who has burned villages down (RIP Flotsam), returns Astarion's bemusement with a cant of his head, like a dog that doesn't understand that no, it's not nice to bite the mailman's hand every morning. It's just arson...? Why don't you love him, Astarion...?
But then Astarion follows up with the sensible warning that he might be made into Iorveth pie, and that makes him reconsider. Briefly. He still thinks arson is a viable plan and prefers it to Astarion sneaking in alone, because again, he's still convinced, the way Iorveth is convinced in many (if not all) situations, that people want Astarion for themselves. ]
I've picked locks before.
[ (Flashback: Iorveth in Moonrise Towers, struggling gainfully with his set of Thieves' Tools in front of a locked door. Eventually, he's forcibly dislodged by Shadowheart, who drags Astarion along with an exasperated "I told you to just ask Astarion," to which Iorveth grumbles "I've picked locks before.")
[ Iorveth frowns, and Astarion smiles pityingly, reaching out so that it's Iorveth's cheek in his hand now. His thumb brushes up and down Iorveth's jaw affectionately. ]
Oh, you sweet thing. I know you have.
[ None that he's been present for, because why would he ever let someone else pick a lock in his presence? They're just going to do it wrong. Like how Iorveth feels when he sees someone else try to nock an arrow, probably. Tiny, detailed work with his hands has always come easily to him. In another life, maybe that would have translated to a profession. ]
But I'd rather not risk your survival on it.
[ The longer Iorveth takes, the more likely it is that the hag discovers him. He couldn't bear it if Iorveth were found out because he was trying to pick a lock that Astarion really should have been the one to handle. ]
You're not allowed to get eaten by a hag. I forbid it.
[ Not sullen, per se, but slightly displeased, Iorveth lists against Astarion's hand and leans into him. A fox, resting its chin on a trusted human's hand. ]
She wouldn't be able to stomach me.
[ Iorveth pie sounds disgusting, thank you very much. But he does have to concede that, in terms of efficiency, thieving is more Astarion's area of expertise, and he would likely be able to get the job done far more quickly than Iorveth could.
A huff. Fine, is the sentiment. He's clearly not happy about it. ]
...I could cast Longstrider on you. And Pass Without Trace. [ The latter, he's not very proficient with. Iorveth is a fighter, not a spellcaster, and spells that require concentration tend not to hold very well, or very long.
Another huff. ] I could also create a diversion. [ uh oh ]
[ Well, Astarion could just eat Iorveth up, so he's not certain that the hag wouldn't, either. (What was her name, again? Grandma Hearth? Ugh, whatever. Doesn't matter.) Both of them, delusionally convinced that everyone else wants their boyfriend. He can't help it! Iorveth is just so mind-numbingly perfect that he can't imagine why a hag wouldn't want him. They're evil, not stupid.
It's precious that Iorveth wants to cast spells on him, though, and it's obvious that the thought of it lifts his spirits. How ridiculously cute. He couldn't frown if he wanted to.
Less cute, though: ] What sort of diversion did you have in mind?
[ Asked with a hint of trepidation. Gods know that Iorveth's idea of a diversion is probably... special. ]
Are you planning to rip off your clothes and run naked through the streets? I'm sure she would find that distracting.
[ Nothing is beneath him, if it meant keeping Astarion safe. He would bed the damn creature, if that would be what it took to get that cloak. But somehow, he doubts that the hag is interested in his flesh (not like that, at least), so he has to tap into something that would be suitably convincing.
After a moment of consideration: ]
I could offer an actual bargain. [ One that isn't so false that she would see through him quickly: one rooted in truth. ] I could ask her what it would take for her to make me immortal.
[ It's the sort of thing that most people go to hags about. Eternal youth, saving a family member from an incurable disease, et cetera and ad infinitum. It's also a desire that isn't insincere on Iorveth's part, though it's not something he would ever ask a duplicitous hag to help him with.
For Astarion, though, he can chance the creature thinking that he's serious. He winds his arms around Astarion's shoulders, shifting closer to him on the soft bench. ]
I gather that she would know by now that I've pledged myself to you.
[ Astarion hates the idea, of course. He'd have no qualm with using, for example, Damris as bait, but Iorveth? Iorveth is, like the shiny jewels Astarion likes so much, precious and worth protecting. He leans into Iorveth's touch, worrying his lip with a fang. ]
She'd be happy to make you immortal. As long as she could also make you a frog.
[ If Ethel's victims are anything to go by, anyway. It seems hags love granting wishes like a monkey's paw. There's a very real danger that she does do something to Iorveth when they interact, and he finds that risk nearly intolerable. But if they don't do it together, he's sure Iorveth will find some stupid, ridiculous way to do it himself. ]
...If you insist on being the hero and putting yourself in harm's way.
[ Which is what he's doing. Who is he, Wyll? Preposterous. ]
But if you even begin to suspect that she might do something to you, you'll leave. I demand it.
[ To the accusation that he's trying to be a hero: ]
I insist on being your partner.
[ An indignant almost-hiss, though he doesn't let Astarion go from the cradle of his arms. Protective, even when protesting a point. He cares very little for being applauded for his actions, but he does care about being present and sharing danger with someone he loves more than himself.
So it's difficult to concede to the last point about leaving. Silence follows "I demand it", contemplative and conflicted. ]
...And as your partner, I don't wish to do anything to harm you. I can't promise I'll leave, but I promise not to waste my life.
[ There wouldn't really be a point to any of this if he does, Iorveth understands. After the events of last night, he knows to be careful. ]
[ 'I promise not to waste my life' should be reassuring, but this is Iorveth. Astarion wouldn't be surprised if he thought dying in service of protecting someone he cares for was a 'good death'. Ridiculous. Astarion would risk his life for Iorveth, too, but he'd really rather stay alive. In fact, he'd be pretty pissed off if he died, even for Iorveth. ]
Ugh. Why must you lack all sense of self-preservation?
[ The real, stark difference between them. Iorveth has spent the majority of his life willing to lay it down for others. Meanwhile, Astarion spent most of his life sacrificing whoever it took to keep his head above water. Out of all of the things he lacks, a healthy sense of self-preservation isn't one of them. ]
I'm afraid there's no reasoning with a stubborn mule like you.
[ He rests his head on Iorveth's shoulder, sighing. ]
Do try to be careful. The sunlight means nothing to me without you there to bask in it with me.
[ Iorveth, who wants to be seen for what he is, is nevertheless a little touched whenever Astarion gets a good read on him (however unflattering). He laughs to Astarion's sigh, accepting 'stubborn mule' with far more grace than he ever accepts 'handsome'. ]
It would be a shame not to be alive to see you in daylight.
[ Translation: "I don't want to die, don't worry." Resting his chin on Astarion's hair, Iorveth relaxes his hold and glances towards their bedroom. ]
Speaking of self-preservation. [ A pause, slightly contrite. ] ...I'll need a day to recover from last night.
[ His body hasn't particularly appreciated the rapid undoing of a fatal poison: he feels heavy, less quick. Not exactly peak hag-outwitting condition. ]
I understand the need to move quickly, but I'll not risk you because of my subpar condition.
[ Iorveth needn't be contrite. Admittedly, Astarion doesn't feel his most lively today, either. (Another trance subject to the hag's pestering probably won't do him much good, but whatever. He didn't rest well for two hundred years. A few days can't possibly handicap him too badly.) He turns his head enough to press his mouth against the skin of Iorveth's neck, sweet like a dog nosing someone it's fond of. ]
Time is of the essence, but it won't kill us to take one night off.
[ Hopefully not famous last words. ]
You know I don't mind doting on you while you're helpless.
[ 'Helpless' is a very inaccurate term to describe Iorveth ever, but Astarion is allowed to have his fantasy. Ooh, what a sexy, vulnerable man, subject to his whims. ]
...Or, if you prefer, I suppose [ —said with great reluctance— ] that once the sun goes down, I can do some of that reconnaissance you're always talking about.
[ 'Helpless' makes Iorveth laugh again. Hardly the case, but he'll let Astarion fantasize about whatever he wants as long as it helps him feel a little better about the whole "my dumbass boyfriend got poisoned" ordeal.
Letting his limbs go slack, eye closed, he breathes a long exhale against soft curls. ]
Spend your time however you wish. I'll not demand that you stay shut indoors because of my stupidity.
[ Sure, Athkatla sucks (in Iorveth's opinion), but it's still the city of coin, and they haven't done much to explore any of it with all the vampire and hag things going on. ]
Reconnaissance may help us tomorrow, but what you wish to do is up to you entirely. Go enjoy yourself, if you prefer.
[ An encouraging peck, to the side of Astarion's head. ]
[ He hums thoughtfully. There is so much of Athkatla that he's yet to see. Stalls and shops where he can purchase (or steal) shiny trinkets. Taverns where he can play (or cheat at) cards and dice games. He'd rather experience these things with Iorveth, but if he must, he'll go it alone. ]
Hm. I do have a few things to shop for. [ His hand finds one of Iorveth's, and he fiddles with his ring finger. ] A few shiny things.
[ Would Iorveth mind terribly if his ring came from an Athkatlan jewelry shop? Neither of them have had a particularly positive experience here, but he does find himself inspired to seal the deal if Iorveth could, you know, die tomorrow. ]
I'm sure I can entertain myself while you recuperate. But will you be all right alone with our, ah... guest?
[ Oh, he thinks, when Astarion plays with his ring finger. With everything that's been going on, he'd almost forgotten about the bit of jewelry they'd been talking about purchasing. Not because he doesn't want it (he does, which is equal measures shocking and terrifying), but because he feels like he fumbled the timing by almost dying. Stupid.
The thought makes his pulse skip momentarily, but he wills himself to settle. ]
Gods, I deserve to die if I let our 'guest' surprise me.
[ A very rude thing to say about Damris, who may or may not be a good fighter if given even a fraction of a chance. Still, Iorveth's been fighting battles since he was young enough to be told not to, and it's evident by the arch of his brow and the semi-offended hike of his chin that Damris is not, in fact, a threat to him. Like, at all.
(In the other room, Damris has a gut feeling that the two elves are talking shit, and scowls.) ]
Tara was far more frightening than him. You needn't worry.
[ Tara is more frightening than Damris, even all the way in Waterdeep, but that's more a function of her being a cat able to cast fireball than anything about Damris. It does still make him nervous to think about leaving Iorveth, fatigued and vulnerable, in Damris's orbit, even if he's bound and in the other room. ]
You should simply ignore him while I'm gone. Vampire spawn are terribly manipulative.
[ Kind of a self-own, but true. If he were in Damris's situation, he would have already tried to talk his way out of it a million different ways. It's a wonder Damris hasn't, but maybe that's just because he's been gagged for most of his time awake. ]
Don't trust him as far as you can throw him. [ A thoughtful pause. ] As far as I can throw him.
[ Very cute of Astarion to think that Iorveth would not be a paranoid freak around someone that's already tried to poison him once. Weirdly, this is the thing that reaffirms something that doesn't actually need reaffirming: Iorveth loves Astarion to death. ]
Astarion. [ To the tune of "you are so adorable, I can't stand it". ] Do you truly believe that the tiefling could bat his pretty lashes and compel me to unbind him, when I managed to resist you for tendays?
[ It's sweet of Astarion to worry, but Iorveth is utterly convinced that the chances of anyone trying to charm him into trusting them over Astarion's word are zero to none.
A leanback for a better look at Astarion's face, and Iorveth lets his lips curl into a half-smile. ]
But I suppose you want a promise. [ Because Iorveth refused to promise to leave, he can compromise by giving Astarion this. ] I promise to stay in bed and behave tonight.
[ Astarion's thumb strokes Iorveth's bare ring finger again, and the corner of his mouth quirks up. It'll be the first time Iorveth has ever behaved himself, he thinks. His (not-so-)little fox, clever and mischievous. A mirror to Iorveth's thoughts, he thinks it's sweet that Iorveth would promise such a thing to him. His mind and his body are constantly moving, but he'd pledge to 'stay in bed and behave' just for Astarion. ]
Good.
[ He squeezes Iorveth's hand, then lets his mouth twist a little, amused. ]
You resisted me for far more than tendays. [ Months, probably. ] And I'm not certain you found it particularly challenging.
[ Mostly, when Iorveth says he'll behave, he means it facetiously. Not tonight, though. Tonight, he needs to save his energy for potential hag-related disasters in his future, and let Astarion decompress a bit after the absolute shitshow of the past day. There is a lingering and omnipresent worry of something happening to Astarion out in the city, but that's the overprotectiveness speaking－ Astarion his a career nightstalker, Iorveth tells himself. He'll be fine without Iorveth breathing down his neck for a few hours.
(Famous last words.)
Hands still held in Astarion's, Iorveth gets up off the couch and makes his way back to the bedroom. His fortress for the day-night. ]
Not at first. The problem was when it did begin to get challenging.
[ Sure, it took a while, but falling in love with Astarion was a lesson in trying to resist an unstoppable force. It still feels like that, sometimes. Like missing a step on the stairs, or feeling a well-aimed arrow fly by his ear. ]
I'd promised myself countless times that I wouldn't ask you to come north with me.
[ Iorveth resisted countless times asking Astarion to come with him, and Astarion asked him to be his kept elf in his hypothetical castle before they'd even kissed. It wasn't a romantic overture, exactly -- although he certainly wouldn't have minded if Iorveth had wanted to be his kept elf in multiple ways. He'd just felt terribly lonely about the fact that he seemingly had no future while everyone else had plenty to look forward to, and he'd thought that Iorveth of all people understood the allure of safety at any cost. He hadn't planned on Iorveth finding freedom more alluring.
It's still embarrassing to think about. Gods, no one in this world has ever rejected him more summarily than Iorveth has.
He allows himself to be led along by the hand. Although he won't be trancing again -- seems unwise, if he knows that he's going to have horrible nightmares -- he doesn't mind tucking Iorveth in. It's another one of those little domestic things that he previously couldn't bear to think about doing, because he didn't think there would ever be anyone he loved enough to actually want to do it. ]
I hope you don't have any regrets.
[ About inviting Astarion along with him, that is. He's sure Iorveth has plenty of other regrets. They both do. ]
I don't.
[ Even if the north is awful and uncivilized and he hates it, he'd rather be miserable in the woods with Iorveth than anywhere without him. ]
[ Regrets. A stupid thing for Astarion to ask, though the addendum that Astarion doesn't have any smooths over any errant ripple of exasperation. Iorveth may have wrung his hands over Astarion's future before, but they've had enough fights about takebacks that Iorveth has surrendered that option entirely.
(Or, well. Mostly. Sometimes, the thought still flits across his mind: 'he'd be happier without all this'.)
Into the bedroom, back onto purple bedsheets. By himself, this time. A bit strange, to be in bed without someone; to mitigate, he lets go of Astarion's hand to rummage inside the pack that he'd left by the foot of his bed, and takes out the bottle of perfume that he'd gifted to Astarion before. He dabs a bit of the contents onto his collar, then onto a pillow as he finally answers: ]
Fool. I could never regret you.
[ Glancing at Astarion, then softening somewhat. ] I've accepted that I love you selfishly and unreasonably.
[ Watching Iorveth dab cologne onto his collar makes Astarion bloom with happiness, a grin spreading across his face. He loves this man so much that sometimes he feels he needs to shout it from the rooftops. He wishes he could kill every person who ever hurt Iorveth and drag their mangled corpses back to him like a cat with a bird.
Standing beside the bed, he takes the silky purple sheets in hand and pulls them up over Iorveth's body before perching on the edge of the mattress beside him. ]
Loving me is very reasonable.
[ But he knows what Iorveth means. Hells, he doesn't know if Iorveth has ever let himself do something 'selfish' for the last century. There's nothing more special than being the subject of his selfish affections.
He glances over at the window, where a little sliver of evening sun still peeks out from behind the curtains. ]
If it's all right with you, I think I might mill around downstairs while I wait for nightfall. [ There are people to cheat, pickpocket, and generally harass down there, after all. ] —Don't worry. I won't drink anything.
[ Loving Astarion might be reasonable, but loving Astarion to the degree that Iorveth does isn't. If they were still traveling in a group, it's likely that the others would have found ways to pull Iorveth in different directions, but alas.
That said, Iorveth concedes to Astarion going, freedom-loving elf that he is. He settles into what are now Astarion-scented pillows, giving Astarion's knee one last pat before resigning himself to bedrest. ]
Mm. Go make the city yours, 'Master Blackmane'. [ A brief twitch of his lips, amused. ] Be careful, and only get into the sort of trouble you can get yourself out of.
[ Mischievous cat. Iorveth would never tell Astarion not to carouse, as long as he can come back to him in one piece; with that, he closes his eye and waves him off. Getting as far away from Damris and this cursed inn might do Astarion a world of good. ]
[ Astarion leans over to kiss Iorveth's forehead before he forces himself up and away from this very appealing sight. If he stays, he'll crawl into bed with Iorveth, and if he crawls into bed with Iorveth, he'll trance. So he tears himself away, peeking in to make sure Damris looks well-bound before making his way downstairs. He plays a few games of cards at the bar. Cheats at all of them, but only gets accused once. Well, I've never been so offended in my life, he says before pretending to storm out into the now-nighttime in a huff.
Athkatla is lively at night. He first makes his way to a few of the smaller stalls, making pleasant conversation as he peruses their wares. He buys a bottle of scented oil because, well, he too is a red-blooded male (it's for my hair, of course, he tells the sweet old lady selling it). He asks around for the fanciest jewelry shop in the city, then, and spends about an hour harassing the jeweler about finding the shiniest ring he has.
The place is near the gate to the Scepter District, and poor Linus is on duty at the gate. Astarion swivels around the moment he notices him, but the shock of silver hair must be difficult to forget. "Sir!" he calls out. "Is Damris all right? I haven't seen him come back, and... well, I've been saving a bouquet for him." ]
Oh, gods, [ Astarion says, disgusted at the sweetness of it all. Linus tilts his head in confusion, and he corrects himself: ] I mean, oh, gods, he really must be nervous to confess! Well, I'd best be off.
[ "A-are you sure that's all it is?" Linus calls after him, but he's already scurrying away, making a beeline for purple pennants in the distance. ]
[ Poor Linus. His beloved is hogtied and tossed onto a pile of divan cushions like an attractive sack of potatoes, and the deranged elf responsible is trancing soundly with his face buried in a soft pillow that smells like his beloved. The dichotomy of man.
By the time Astarion returns with his card games won and his trinkets purchased, Iorveth is awake again and lounging in bed, restless but adhering to his promise to behave: he has his heirloom bow sitting on top of his crossed legs, and stops polishing it once he hears the door to their room swing open and shut.
If Astarion beelines for the bedroom, he'll find Iorveth with a throwing knife in hand, Just In Case. It, of course, gets tossed aside once Iorveth confirms that it's not an enemy who's infiltrated his space; he brightens in the way he only does in Astarion's vicinity, lips curling upwards in an uncalculated, unconscious smile. ]
You're back. [ Invisible fox ears flatten, relaxed and pleased. ] How does Athkatla measure against Waterdeep?
[ Starting to put his things away to give Astarion more space, wiping his wax-covered fingers on a dirty rag. ]
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no subject
Poor Astarion, having to deal with Iorveth's terminal inability to live without regrets. They truly are opposites of each other in every way, and once upon a time, Iorveth might have thought that they disagree about the things that really matter. But, again, Iorveth doesn't love easy. He likes friction, rapport, a back-and-forth.
Which is why he considers Astarion's assertion, and counters it with one of his own. ] The opposite, I think. She mentioned me as an item because she wanted to barter with you. And if she's the one causing your nightmares, she's doing it to weaken your resolve.
[ Why? He has no idea. But a mortal thrall is likely less useful than an immortal one, and barring that, Iorveth mirrors Astarion's assumption that, if he were a terrible old hag, he'd want Astarion for himself. ]
But I tire of this farce. Cast invisibility on me, and I'll infiltrate the damned shop. I'll put every cloak I can get my hands on in a bag, set the place on fire, and leave.
[ full scorched earth mode ]
no subject
Are you mad, walking into a hag's den and stealing from her? If she discovered you, she'd disintegrate you. Or bake you into a pie.
[ Or whatever hags do. He isn't particularly knowledgeable about them, aside from knowing that whatever this creature could do to Iorveth is unthinkably awful. Astarion can barely tolerate the thought of Iorveth stubbing his toe. ]
Besides, if anyone should break into her lair...
[ He swallows, uncertain. ]
I suppose it should be me. I am a rather accomplished thief. And, besides, she might have her precious cloaks behind a lock.
no subject
But then Astarion follows up with the sensible warning that he might be made into Iorveth pie, and that makes him reconsider. Briefly. He still thinks arson is a viable plan and prefers it to Astarion sneaking in alone, because again, he's still convinced, the way Iorveth is convinced in many (if not all) situations, that people want Astarion for themselves. ]
I've picked locks before.
[ (Flashback: Iorveth in Moonrise Towers, struggling gainfully with his set of Thieves' Tools in front of a locked door. Eventually, he's forcibly dislodged by Shadowheart, who drags Astarion along with an exasperated "I told you to just ask Astarion," to which Iorveth grumbles "I've picked locks before.")
Iorveth's turn to frown. ]
no subject
Oh, you sweet thing. I know you have.
[ None that he's been present for, because why would he ever let someone else pick a lock in his presence? They're just going to do it wrong. Like how Iorveth feels when he sees someone else try to nock an arrow, probably. Tiny, detailed work with his hands has always come easily to him. In another life, maybe that would have translated to a profession. ]
But I'd rather not risk your survival on it.
[ The longer Iorveth takes, the more likely it is that the hag discovers him. He couldn't bear it if Iorveth were found out because he was trying to pick a lock that Astarion really should have been the one to handle. ]
You're not allowed to get eaten by a hag. I forbid it.
no subject
She wouldn't be able to stomach me.
[ Iorveth pie sounds disgusting, thank you very much. But he does have to concede that, in terms of efficiency, thieving is more Astarion's area of expertise, and he would likely be able to get the job done far more quickly than Iorveth could.
A huff. Fine, is the sentiment. He's clearly not happy about it. ]
...I could cast Longstrider on you. And Pass Without Trace. [ The latter, he's not very proficient with. Iorveth is a fighter, not a spellcaster, and spells that require concentration tend not to hold very well, or very long.
Another huff. ] I could also create a diversion. [ uh oh ]
no subject
It's precious that Iorveth wants to cast spells on him, though, and it's obvious that the thought of it lifts his spirits. How ridiculously cute. He couldn't frown if he wanted to.
Less cute, though: ] What sort of diversion did you have in mind?
[ Asked with a hint of trepidation. Gods know that Iorveth's idea of a diversion is probably... special. ]
Are you planning to rip off your clothes and run naked through the streets? I'm sure she would find that distracting.
no subject
[ Nothing is beneath him, if it meant keeping Astarion safe. He would bed the damn creature, if that would be what it took to get that cloak. But somehow, he doubts that the hag is interested in his flesh (not like that, at least), so he has to tap into something that would be suitably convincing.
After a moment of consideration: ]
I could offer an actual bargain. [ One that isn't so false that she would see through him quickly: one rooted in truth. ] I could ask her what it would take for her to make me immortal.
[ It's the sort of thing that most people go to hags about. Eternal youth, saving a family member from an incurable disease, et cetera and ad infinitum. It's also a desire that isn't insincere on Iorveth's part, though it's not something he would ever ask a duplicitous hag to help him with.
For Astarion, though, he can chance the creature thinking that he's serious. He winds his arms around Astarion's shoulders, shifting closer to him on the soft bench. ]
I gather that she would know by now that I've pledged myself to you.
no subject
She'd be happy to make you immortal. As long as she could also make you a frog.
[ If Ethel's victims are anything to go by, anyway. It seems hags love granting wishes like a monkey's paw. There's a very real danger that she does do something to Iorveth when they interact, and he finds that risk nearly intolerable. But if they don't do it together, he's sure Iorveth will find some stupid, ridiculous way to do it himself. ]
...If you insist on being the hero and putting yourself in harm's way.
[ Which is what he's doing. Who is he, Wyll? Preposterous. ]
But if you even begin to suspect that she might do something to you, you'll leave. I demand it.
no subject
I insist on being your partner.
[ An indignant almost-hiss, though he doesn't let Astarion go from the cradle of his arms. Protective, even when protesting a point. He cares very little for being applauded for his actions, but he does care about being present and sharing danger with someone he loves more than himself.
So it's difficult to concede to the last point about leaving. Silence follows "I demand it", contemplative and conflicted. ]
...And as your partner, I don't wish to do anything to harm you. I can't promise I'll leave, but I promise not to waste my life.
[ There wouldn't really be a point to any of this if he does, Iorveth understands. After the events of last night, he knows to be careful. ]
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Ugh. Why must you lack all sense of self-preservation?
[ The real, stark difference between them. Iorveth has spent the majority of his life willing to lay it down for others. Meanwhile, Astarion spent most of his life sacrificing whoever it took to keep his head above water. Out of all of the things he lacks, a healthy sense of self-preservation isn't one of them. ]
I'm afraid there's no reasoning with a stubborn mule like you.
[ He rests his head on Iorveth's shoulder, sighing. ]
Do try to be careful. The sunlight means nothing to me without you there to bask in it with me.
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It would be a shame not to be alive to see you in daylight.
[ Translation: "I don't want to die, don't worry." Resting his chin on Astarion's hair, Iorveth relaxes his hold and glances towards their bedroom. ]
Speaking of self-preservation. [ A pause, slightly contrite. ] ...I'll need a day to recover from last night.
[ His body hasn't particularly appreciated the rapid undoing of a fatal poison: he feels heavy, less quick. Not exactly peak hag-outwitting condition. ]
I understand the need to move quickly, but I'll not risk you because of my subpar condition.
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Time is of the essence, but it won't kill us to take one night off.
[ Hopefully not famous last words. ]
You know I don't mind doting on you while you're helpless.
[ 'Helpless' is a very inaccurate term to describe Iorveth ever, but Astarion is allowed to have his fantasy. Ooh, what a sexy, vulnerable man, subject to his whims. ]
...Or, if you prefer, I suppose [ —said with great reluctance— ] that once the sun goes down, I can do some of that reconnaissance you're always talking about.
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Letting his limbs go slack, eye closed, he breathes a long exhale against soft curls. ]
Spend your time however you wish. I'll not demand that you stay shut indoors because of my stupidity.
[ Sure, Athkatla sucks (in Iorveth's opinion), but it's still the city of coin, and they haven't done much to explore any of it with all the vampire and hag things going on. ]
Reconnaissance may help us tomorrow, but what you wish to do is up to you entirely. Go enjoy yourself, if you prefer.
[ An encouraging peck, to the side of Astarion's head. ]
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[ He hums thoughtfully. There is so much of Athkatla that he's yet to see. Stalls and shops where he can purchase (or steal) shiny trinkets. Taverns where he can play (or cheat at) cards and dice games. He'd rather experience these things with Iorveth, but if he must, he'll go it alone. ]
Hm. I do have a few things to shop for. [ His hand finds one of Iorveth's, and he fiddles with his ring finger. ] A few shiny things.
[ Would Iorveth mind terribly if his ring came from an Athkatlan jewelry shop? Neither of them have had a particularly positive experience here, but he does find himself inspired to seal the deal if Iorveth could, you know, die tomorrow. ]
I'm sure I can entertain myself while you recuperate. But will you be all right alone with our, ah... guest?
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The thought makes his pulse skip momentarily, but he wills himself to settle. ]
Gods, I deserve to die if I let our 'guest' surprise me.
[ A very rude thing to say about Damris, who may or may not be a good fighter if given even a fraction of a chance. Still, Iorveth's been fighting battles since he was young enough to be told not to, and it's evident by the arch of his brow and the semi-offended hike of his chin that Damris is not, in fact, a threat to him. Like, at all.
(In the other room, Damris has a gut feeling that the two elves are talking shit, and scowls.) ]
Tara was far more frightening than him. You needn't worry.
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[ Tara is more frightening than Damris, even all the way in Waterdeep, but that's more a function of her being a cat able to cast fireball than anything about Damris. It does still make him nervous to think about leaving Iorveth, fatigued and vulnerable, in Damris's orbit, even if he's bound and in the other room. ]
You should simply ignore him while I'm gone. Vampire spawn are terribly manipulative.
[ Kind of a self-own, but true. If he were in Damris's situation, he would have already tried to talk his way out of it a million different ways. It's a wonder Damris hasn't, but maybe that's just because he's been gagged for most of his time awake. ]
Don't trust him as far as you can throw him. [ A thoughtful pause. ] As far as I can throw him.
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Astarion. [ To the tune of "you are so adorable, I can't stand it". ] Do you truly believe that the tiefling could bat his pretty lashes and compel me to unbind him, when I managed to resist you for tendays?
[ It's sweet of Astarion to worry, but Iorveth is utterly convinced that the chances of anyone trying to charm him into trusting them over Astarion's word are zero to none.
A leanback for a better look at Astarion's face, and Iorveth lets his lips curl into a half-smile. ]
But I suppose you want a promise. [ Because Iorveth refused to promise to leave, he can compromise by giving Astarion this. ] I promise to stay in bed and behave tonight.
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Good.
[ He squeezes Iorveth's hand, then lets his mouth twist a little, amused. ]
You resisted me for far more than tendays. [ Months, probably. ] And I'm not certain you found it particularly challenging.
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(Famous last words.)
Hands still held in Astarion's, Iorveth gets up off the couch and makes his way back to the bedroom. His fortress for the day-night. ]
Not at first. The problem was when it did begin to get challenging.
[ Sure, it took a while, but falling in love with Astarion was a lesson in trying to resist an unstoppable force. It still feels like that, sometimes. Like missing a step on the stairs, or feeling a well-aimed arrow fly by his ear. ]
I'd promised myself countless times that I wouldn't ask you to come north with me.
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It's still embarrassing to think about. Gods, no one in this world has ever rejected him more summarily than Iorveth has.
He allows himself to be led along by the hand. Although he won't be trancing again -- seems unwise, if he knows that he's going to have horrible nightmares -- he doesn't mind tucking Iorveth in. It's another one of those little domestic things that he previously couldn't bear to think about doing, because he didn't think there would ever be anyone he loved enough to actually want to do it. ]
I hope you don't have any regrets.
[ About inviting Astarion along with him, that is. He's sure Iorveth has plenty of other regrets. They both do. ]
I don't.
[ Even if the north is awful and uncivilized and he hates it, he'd rather be miserable in the woods with Iorveth than anywhere without him. ]
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(Or, well. Mostly. Sometimes, the thought still flits across his mind: 'he'd be happier without all this'.)
Into the bedroom, back onto purple bedsheets. By himself, this time. A bit strange, to be in bed without someone; to mitigate, he lets go of Astarion's hand to rummage inside the pack that he'd left by the foot of his bed, and takes out the bottle of perfume that he'd gifted to Astarion before. He dabs a bit of the contents onto his collar, then onto a pillow as he finally answers: ]
Fool. I could never regret you.
[ Glancing at Astarion, then softening somewhat. ] I've accepted that I love you selfishly and unreasonably.
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Standing beside the bed, he takes the silky purple sheets in hand and pulls them up over Iorveth's body before perching on the edge of the mattress beside him. ]
Loving me is very reasonable.
[ But he knows what Iorveth means. Hells, he doesn't know if Iorveth has ever let himself do something 'selfish' for the last century. There's nothing more special than being the subject of his selfish affections.
He glances over at the window, where a little sliver of evening sun still peeks out from behind the curtains. ]
If it's all right with you, I think I might mill around downstairs while I wait for nightfall. [ There are people to cheat, pickpocket, and generally harass down there, after all. ] —Don't worry. I won't drink anything.
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That said, Iorveth concedes to Astarion going, freedom-loving elf that he is. He settles into what are now Astarion-scented pillows, giving Astarion's knee one last pat before resigning himself to bedrest. ]
Mm. Go make the city yours, 'Master Blackmane'. [ A brief twitch of his lips, amused. ] Be careful, and only get into the sort of trouble you can get yourself out of.
[ Mischievous cat. Iorveth would never tell Astarion not to carouse, as long as he can come back to him in one piece; with that, he closes his eye and waves him off. Getting as far away from Damris and this cursed inn might do Astarion a world of good. ]
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Athkatla is lively at night. He first makes his way to a few of the smaller stalls, making pleasant conversation as he peruses their wares. He buys a bottle of scented oil because, well, he too is a red-blooded male (it's for my hair, of course, he tells the sweet old lady selling it). He asks around for the fanciest jewelry shop in the city, then, and spends about an hour harassing the jeweler about finding the shiniest ring he has.
The place is near the gate to the Scepter District, and poor Linus is on duty at the gate. Astarion swivels around the moment he notices him, but the shock of silver hair must be difficult to forget. "Sir!" he calls out. "Is Damris all right? I haven't seen him come back, and... well, I've been saving a bouquet for him." ]
Oh, gods, [ Astarion says, disgusted at the sweetness of it all. Linus tilts his head in confusion, and he corrects himself: ] I mean, oh, gods, he really must be nervous to confess! Well, I'd best be off.
[ "A-are you sure that's all it is?" Linus calls after him, but he's already scurrying away, making a beeline for purple pennants in the distance. ]
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By the time Astarion returns with his card games won and his trinkets purchased, Iorveth is awake again and lounging in bed, restless but adhering to his promise to behave: he has his heirloom bow sitting on top of his crossed legs, and stops polishing it once he hears the door to their room swing open and shut.
If Astarion beelines for the bedroom, he'll find Iorveth with a throwing knife in hand, Just In Case. It, of course, gets tossed aside once Iorveth confirms that it's not an enemy who's infiltrated his space; he brightens in the way he only does in Astarion's vicinity, lips curling upwards in an uncalculated, unconscious smile. ]
You're back. [ Invisible fox ears flatten, relaxed and pleased. ] How does Athkatla measure against Waterdeep?
[ Starting to put his things away to give Astarion more space, wiping his wax-covered fingers on a dirty rag. ]
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