[ Eagerly, he allows his own tadpole to reach out psionically, seeking its kind. Just as eagerly, the tadpole winds its way around Iorveth's, and Astarion pushes into his mind without another word. As the image of his own face comes into focus, he takes a step closer, craning his neck one way and then the other, looking at himself from all angles.
A wave of disappointment rocks through the connection. Gods, he does have dark circles. He looks, well, as dead as he is. Pale and sickly skin, just as the guard had said, and dark, tired circles beneath his eyes. He isn't sure whether those are due to the vampirism or just a result of living under Cazador's heel for two centuries.
He takes a step back, turning to look at himself in his outfit, going as far as to turn all the way around to get a good view of his backside (an important thing to appraise). Finally, he turns back around, hands on his hips. ]
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A wave of disappointment rocks through the connection. Gods, he does have dark circles. He looks, well, as dead as he is. Pale and sickly skin, just as the guard had said, and dark, tired circles beneath his eyes. He isn't sure whether those are due to the vampirism or just a result of living under Cazador's heel for two centuries.
He takes a step back, turning to look at himself in his outfit, going as far as to turn all the way around to get a good view of his backside (an important thing to appraise). Finally, he turns back around, hands on his hips. ]
...Well. At least I pull it off.