[ The taste of copper in his mouth, punctuated by the nicest thing anyone has ever said about him. A person who always wants to have conviction in everything that he does, being told that that's the ideal shape of him－ Iorveth has never needed anyone to validate who he is, but hearing those words in Astarion's voice feels fortifying regardless.
Astarion is wonderful. To him, at least. Worryingly. Iorveth watches him handle a sharp object with deft grace, and tries not to look too much like someone smitten.
Maybe later. Now, he beckons for Astarion to follow him through the underbrush, past old traps set by presumably-dead elves and fresher snares set by clumsy humans. He guides them through thickets and towards what looks like a dirt path, an easier patch of forest to maneuver: predictably, the humans have preferred the well-trodden way to the wilds, and Iorveth spots one of the soldiers roaming in the middle distance, marking his way with scratches to the bark of a tree.
A fool, as Astarion put it. Even animals are better at covering their tracks; humans really are useless. Gesturing towards the man, he murmurs: ] He's yours, if you want him.
no subject
Astarion is wonderful. To him, at least. Worryingly. Iorveth watches him handle a sharp object with deft grace, and tries not to look too much like someone smitten.
Maybe later. Now, he beckons for Astarion to follow him through the underbrush, past old traps set by presumably-dead elves and fresher snares set by clumsy humans. He guides them through thickets and towards what looks like a dirt path, an easier patch of forest to maneuver: predictably, the humans have preferred the well-trodden way to the wilds, and Iorveth spots one of the soldiers roaming in the middle distance, marking his way with scratches to the bark of a tree.
A fool, as Astarion put it. Even animals are better at covering their tracks; humans really are useless. Gesturing towards the man, he murmurs: ] He's yours, if you want him.