[ A wet, tattooed wood elf with old scars littering his long-limbed body. Iorveth really can't imagine that he's much to look at, but he'll allow Astarion's eyes on him as he towels off and makes his way back onto the stool, naked except for a strip of fluffy cloth spread over his lap. Not to preserve his nonexistent modesty, but to prevent stray pieces of hair from accidentally landing on his dick.
He glances up at Astarion from where he's sitting, and huffs a laugh. ]
No one is going to look twice at me, you realize.
[ Everyone is going to be admiring the pale-haired high elf in his (Iorveth assumes) glittering finery, not the sullen-looking country elf with his covered face and his new haircut. ]
But, mm. Do as you please. [ He closes his eye, and presents his damp head for Astarion's scrutiny. ] Your delusions are endearing.
[ The rudest elf in the world, showing affection through ribbing. The only reason he doesn't make an attempt to pull Astarion onto his lap is because Astarion is holding something sharp in his hand. ]
no subject
He glances up at Astarion from where he's sitting, and huffs a laugh. ]
No one is going to look twice at me, you realize.
[ Everyone is going to be admiring the pale-haired high elf in his (Iorveth assumes) glittering finery, not the sullen-looking country elf with his covered face and his new haircut. ]
But, mm. Do as you please. [ He closes his eye, and presents his damp head for Astarion's scrutiny. ] Your delusions are endearing.
[ The rudest elf in the world, showing affection through ribbing. The only reason he doesn't make an attempt to pull Astarion onto his lap is because Astarion is holding something sharp in his hand. ]