[ "Everything" is as nice as it is daunting. Like the first night Iorveth spent sleeping on a bedroll instead of hunched between two rocks in a cave, unaccustomed to and unnerved by the prospect of comfort. That feeling, amplified tenfold.
Stretching his legs and crossing them at his ankles, Iorveth leans back in his seat. ]
You have the instinct. The form needs work.
[ He reaches to press his palm to the small of Astarion's back, indicating where he needs to right his posture when he's holding a bow. The touch smooths up, and rests at Astarion's nape. ]
As for the lute, well. [ An amused puff of breath. ] I can accompany you on the flute.
[ Yes, he can play the flute. Yes, that is an insanely stereotypical wood elf thing to do. What of it!!!!!!! ]
no subject
Stretching his legs and crossing them at his ankles, Iorveth leans back in his seat. ]
You have the instinct. The form needs work.
[ He reaches to press his palm to the small of Astarion's back, indicating where he needs to right his posture when he's holding a bow. The touch smooths up, and rests at Astarion's nape. ]
As for the lute, well. [ An amused puff of breath. ] I can accompany you on the flute.
[ Yes, he can play the flute. Yes, that is an insanely stereotypical wood elf thing to do. What of it!!!!!!! ]