[ Iorveth has blinders on; to him, Astarion is basically the prettiest person not-alive, no matter what he's wearing. On the flipside, he's working his way up from less than zero, so his concern is more "stay covered" instead of "look good".
Case in point: the sandals. Waterdhavian Crocs, in the worst shade of custard-beige possible. The only nice thing he's wearing is the eyepatch that Astarion got for him, and the little ring on a chain he finally took out of his traveling pack to slip back around his neck. ]
They fit, [ he says, as if that solves the problem of them being, well. Extremely ugly. He'd been looking all over for his traveling boots, but it's very likely that Gale took them out back and burned them for being hopelessly waterlogged and muddy.
Iorveth has no idea how close to getting dumped he is, so he extends a hand and motions towards the general direction of the tower exit. ] Come. You'll have to lead the way, I've no idea where this tavern of yours is.
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Case in point: the sandals. Waterdhavian Crocs, in the worst shade of custard-beige possible. The only nice thing he's wearing is the eyepatch that Astarion got for him, and the little ring on a chain he finally took out of his traveling pack to slip back around his neck. ]
They fit, [ he says, as if that solves the problem of them being, well. Extremely ugly. He'd been looking all over for his traveling boots, but it's very likely that Gale took them out back and burned them for being hopelessly waterlogged and muddy.
Iorveth has no idea how close to getting dumped he is, so he extends a hand and motions towards the general direction of the tower exit. ] Come. You'll have to lead the way, I've no idea where this tavern of yours is.