[ The kobold's stand is less a stand and more a haphazard gathering of disparate items hiding under a tent that seems to be collapsing on its weight. Iorveth narrows his eye at both the suggestion that either of them would want anything from this mess, and the implication that they're looking for "romantic junks" at a circus; unwinding his hand from Astarion's, Iorveth walks over to a row of bottles and inspects one, the smudged lettering on its label reading "ILIXR?"
It's possible that this kobold is far funnier than the dead clown ever was. Speaking of clowns, though― ]
―Is that a hand?
[ His focus snaps to a severed limb sitting primly on a grimy, bloodstained plate. Hells. This place really is a nightmare.
"Yes, yes! My special hand, not-so-fresh from the clown man's tent." The kobold gives them the approximation of a grin, nonexistent lips curling back to show sharp, uneven teeth. It hops on its feet, yellow eyes twinkling. "I finds it, a one-of-a-kind hand, nibbled and gnawed. You won't finds anything else like it, anywheres else. Hueh!"
Gods, the irony of Lae'zel telling her elf messengers to relay a message about a missing hand, only for them to find it sitting out in the open, guarded by a demented kobold. Iorveth would laugh if he weren't so revolted.
Straight-faced, absolutely deadpan: ] A special hand for my special love.
[ Yes, he will frame this as a purchase for Astarion. ] How much?
no subject
It's possible that this kobold is far funnier than the dead clown ever was. Speaking of clowns, though― ]
―Is that a hand?
[ His focus snaps to a severed limb sitting primly on a grimy, bloodstained plate. Hells. This place really is a nightmare.
"Yes, yes! My special hand, not-so-fresh from the clown man's tent." The kobold gives them the approximation of a grin, nonexistent lips curling back to show sharp, uneven teeth. It hops on its feet, yellow eyes twinkling. "I finds it, a one-of-a-kind hand, nibbled and gnawed. You won't finds anything else like it, anywheres else. Hueh!"
Gods, the irony of Lae'zel telling her elf messengers to relay a message about a missing hand, only for them to find it sitting out in the open, guarded by a demented kobold. Iorveth would laugh if he weren't so revolted.
Straight-faced, absolutely deadpan: ] A special hand for my special love.
[ Yes, he will frame this as a purchase for Astarion. ] How much?