[ Iorveth really knows all the right things to say. Astarion does want him to compare everyone he's ever loved before, and he wants Iorveth to find them wanting. None of that 'I didn't love them less, just differently' tripe. Iorveth should absolutely love everyone who isn't Astarion less.
But, you know. No red flags here. ]
I've never loved anyone else at all, [ he muses, brushing Iorveth's hair away from his face and arranging it artfully around him. If he really were a cat, as Iorveth is so fond of saying, he'd be licking Iorveth. (Which he's also not opposed to doing.) ] And I never will.
[ "Iorveth," comes Gale's voice as he starts up the stairs again. "I hate to admit that I don't know after all this time, but— how do you like your eggs?" ]
[ Hm. The reasonable part of Iorveth still thinks it'd be alright for Astarion to forge connections that don't just boil down to Iorveth, but his plan to slowly faze himself out of Astarion's life and let Astarion find a new love before Iorveth eventually succumbs to mortality is seeming more and more like a last resort instead of, you know. The sort of normal contingency plan that a mortal and immortal might have to consider.
It's too soon to think about that, anyway. Even without immortality, Iorveth has a good three centuries with Astarion if he's lucky, and he intends to at least spend the next however-many tendays trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he's engaged.
When Gale isn't interrupting him about eggs, anyway. He closes his eye and sinks back onto a pillow, both aggravated and fond about the wizard's horrible timing. ]
Much as I'd like to bask in you after surviving Athkatla, [ he sighs, ] breakfast calls.
[ A quick kiss to Astarion's cheek, grossly affectionate. ] ...When do you wish to tell Gale about us?
[ Astarion would very much like to bask and be basked in, but as usual, he has the hardest life of anyone on the planet. With great effort—both due to reluctance and physical discomfort—he removes himself from his spot on top of Iorveth, groaning a little so that Iorveth can see how pathetic and hurt he is and feel inclined to coddle him some more.
He's been horizontal this whole time, but he finally pushes himself up against the headboard, blinking blearily. The long trance did wonders for his emotional state, but it's difficult to readjust to the waking world now. ]
Darling, I'd shout it from the rooftops if you'd only let me.
[ That is to say, he has no intentions of keeping it a secret. This engagement is the best thing that's ever happened to him. ]
[ Coddling is bad, usually, but not when he's coddling a man who almost had his soul sucked out of him through nightmares by a hideous hag who also shattered his leg. Astarion deserves to have his every whim entertained for at least the next 48 hours as he staves off The Horrors, which is why Iorveth indulges him: Iorveth swings off the bed ("soft-boiled", he calls down to Gale), moving to the closet to get Astarion a comfortable robe (purple, to his dismay) and soft, loose pants that he can shimmy into without much trouble. ]
Well, then. [ Iorveth finally replies, as he helps Astarion close the front of his robe and then moves to find a brush for his hair. Falling into the morning grooming routine with the same care and efficiency he shows when tending to his weapons. ] You can tell whoever you please, whenever you please.
...Preferably not in witness of the cleric. I imagine he'd have some smart-assed thing to say about time and perspective.
[ As if Iorveth hasn't tried those things already, all to Astarion's distress. ]
Ugh. [ Regarding 'the cleric'. ] He's just jealous, obviously.
[ Reginald very much is not jealous, but Astarion has decided to convince himself that he is. It's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would someone suggest that he not be up Iorveth's ass every minute of the day? It's a very reasonable place to be. ]
I feel bad for him. [ He doesn't, but he sighs dramatically anyway. ] But not everyone can meet their perfect match, unfortunately.
[ And Iorveth is that for him, certainly. A perfect fit, like hand in glove. He smooths down the fabric of his pants and stands, obviously favoring his leg but far more mobile than before the healing. ]
After you eat, we should... [ He trails off, intimidated by the prospect of testing their arcane loot. ] You know. The cloaks.
[ A bit more rummaging, and Iorveth finds a rather adorable pair of owlbear slippers that he does not, in fact, give to Astarion to slip into. Instead, Astarion gets the comfortable-looking (also purple) indoor slippers, and Iorveth quickly goes through his own grooming routine, which consists of just tossing his dirty shirt off, putting his eyepatch on, and calling it a day.
He also picks up Astarion's lumpy pack when the subject of the cloaks is brought up, and slings it over his bare shoulder. ]
I'd not forgotten. [ The elephant in the room. Hard to ignore it when it's the reason why they went through hell in the first place. ] Our moment of truth.
[ Triumph, or devastation. Iorveth offers Astarion a hand as they walk downstairs to the dining room (which smells glorious― Gale continues to outdo himself). ]
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no subject
But, you know. No red flags here. ]
I've never loved anyone else at all, [ he muses, brushing Iorveth's hair away from his face and arranging it artfully around him. If he really were a cat, as Iorveth is so fond of saying, he'd be licking Iorveth. (Which he's also not opposed to doing.) ] And I never will.
[ "Iorveth," comes Gale's voice as he starts up the stairs again. "I hate to admit that I don't know after all this time, but— how do you like your eggs?" ]
no subject
It's too soon to think about that, anyway. Even without immortality, Iorveth has a good three centuries with Astarion if he's lucky, and he intends to at least spend the next however-many tendays trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he's engaged.
When Gale isn't interrupting him about eggs, anyway. He closes his eye and sinks back onto a pillow, both aggravated and fond about the wizard's horrible timing. ]
Much as I'd like to bask in you after surviving Athkatla, [ he sighs, ] breakfast calls.
[ A quick kiss to Astarion's cheek, grossly affectionate. ] ...When do you wish to tell Gale about us?
no subject
He's been horizontal this whole time, but he finally pushes himself up against the headboard, blinking blearily. The long trance did wonders for his emotional state, but it's difficult to readjust to the waking world now. ]
Darling, I'd shout it from the rooftops if you'd only let me.
[ That is to say, he has no intentions of keeping it a secret. This engagement is the best thing that's ever happened to him. ]
no subject
Well, then. [ Iorveth finally replies, as he helps Astarion close the front of his robe and then moves to find a brush for his hair. Falling into the morning grooming routine with the same care and efficiency he shows when tending to his weapons. ] You can tell whoever you please, whenever you please.
...Preferably not in witness of the cleric. I imagine he'd have some smart-assed thing to say about time and perspective.
[ As if Iorveth hasn't tried those things already, all to Astarion's distress. ]
no subject
[ Reginald very much is not jealous, but Astarion has decided to convince himself that he is. It's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would someone suggest that he not be up Iorveth's ass every minute of the day? It's a very reasonable place to be. ]
I feel bad for him. [ He doesn't, but he sighs dramatically anyway. ] But not everyone can meet their perfect match, unfortunately.
[ And Iorveth is that for him, certainly. A perfect fit, like hand in glove. He smooths down the fabric of his pants and stands, obviously favoring his leg but far more mobile than before the healing. ]
After you eat, we should... [ He trails off, intimidated by the prospect of testing their arcane loot. ] You know. The cloaks.
no subject
He also picks up Astarion's lumpy pack when the subject of the cloaks is brought up, and slings it over his bare shoulder. ]
I'd not forgotten. [ The elephant in the room. Hard to ignore it when it's the reason why they went through hell in the first place. ] Our moment of truth.
[ Triumph, or devastation. Iorveth offers Astarion a hand as they walk downstairs to the dining room (which smells glorious― Gale continues to outdo himself). ]