[ Iorveth's had enough of the food for now, and motions for Astarion to free his hands for Iorveth to nudge against with his fever-warm forehead. The worst of his flareup came and went during his nap while the poultice set into his wound, but it still feels good to press his flushed skin against cool, undead palms regardless.
An indulgence. He wouldn't be caught dead doing this in front of anyone else. ]
You couldn't be hideous if you tried.
[ Ridiculous, that Astarion is so self-conscious over slightly-scorched ends. If barely-singed bangs makes him hideous, there's no hope for anyone in any Plane of being attractive. ]
But yes, I'll allow you to clean me up. I could even feign being your exotic northern elf who doesn't speak a word of Common.
[ Mostly because he wouldn't want to talk to anyone. And because it would be funny. He smiles at the thought of it, and murmurs a string of diminutives against Astarion's palm in his language, low and melodic. ]
no subject
An indulgence. He wouldn't be caught dead doing this in front of anyone else. ]
You couldn't be hideous if you tried.
[ Ridiculous, that Astarion is so self-conscious over slightly-scorched ends. If barely-singed bangs makes him hideous, there's no hope for anyone in any Plane of being attractive. ]
But yes, I'll allow you to clean me up. I could even feign being your exotic northern elf who doesn't speak a word of Common.
[ Mostly because he wouldn't want to talk to anyone. And because it would be funny. He smiles at the thought of it, and murmurs a string of diminutives against Astarion's palm in his language, low and melodic. ]