[ Astarion lifts an eyebrow at the makeshift flail, amused and approving. He does love a man who can improvise a weapon, as well as a man who's willing to murder alongside him. Honestly, he hadn't given two shits about some backwoods racists before, but now they've personally offended him with their attempt to capture Iorveth (and worse, if they'd had the chance).
The kiss is sweet, but not nearly enough. He fists a hand in the front of Iorveth's shirt, tugging him back for a proper kiss, the faint taste of blood left in his mouth and all. ]
You already are the best of you.
[ An embarrassingly sappy assertion, helped along by the blood running through his system. Some part of him is still embarrassed, though, so he adds, ] But I am wonderful, aren't I?
[ He brandishes the hunting knife-- ] Just point me toward a fool.
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The kiss is sweet, but not nearly enough. He fists a hand in the front of Iorveth's shirt, tugging him back for a proper kiss, the faint taste of blood left in his mouth and all. ]
You already are the best of you.
[ An embarrassingly sappy assertion, helped along by the blood running through his system. Some part of him is still embarrassed, though, so he adds, ] But I am wonderful, aren't I?
[ He brandishes the hunting knife-- ] Just point me toward a fool.