[ Iorveth is mid-plait when Astarion turns the corner towards the miniature gathering of miniature elves; a precursory once-over to make sure that there are no obvious injuries on Astarion's person later, and Iorveth goes back to weaving soft platinum-blond hair into neat patterns. It would be impolite to leave a lady only half-styled. ]
I don't often interact with them.
[ "So this is a novelty thing", is implied. His single eye flits back to that pointed look on Astarion's face (slightly flushed? a warmer sort of pale, maybe), trying to read if that slight edge is because Astarion didn't particularly like the blood he just drank, or if it's just a general distaste for pocket-sized elves.
Taking the two braids he's made on either side of the little girl's face, Iorveth pulls them back and weaves them into one bigger, slightly more intricate braid, which he ties together with a silk ribbon. The bloodroot from before gets tucked into one of the pleats, and once that's done, he coaxes the child off of his knee and back towards her group of friends.
"Me next, Isengrim!", a little boy with long black hair pipes up. Iorveth shakes his head, and gets back up onto his feet. ]
I've kept my dewy companion waiting too long, [ he explains, to which the gaggle of children all turn towards Astarion in perfect sync. ]
no subject
I don't often interact with them.
[ "So this is a novelty thing", is implied. His single eye flits back to that pointed look on Astarion's face (slightly flushed? a warmer sort of pale, maybe), trying to read if that slight edge is because Astarion didn't particularly like the blood he just drank, or if it's just a general distaste for pocket-sized elves.
Taking the two braids he's made on either side of the little girl's face, Iorveth pulls them back and weaves them into one bigger, slightly more intricate braid, which he ties together with a silk ribbon. The bloodroot from before gets tucked into one of the pleats, and once that's done, he coaxes the child off of his knee and back towards her group of friends.
"Me next, Isengrim!", a little boy with long black hair pipes up. Iorveth shakes his head, and gets back up onto his feet. ]
I've kept my dewy companion waiting too long, [ he explains, to which the gaggle of children all turn towards Astarion in perfect sync. ]