[ It's Fey Day all day for the Aen Seidhe (an exaggeration; that's probably more Halsin's area of expertise). Astarion will be miserable, and Iorveth will have to vacation with him to a city to keep him from brooding all the time.
Still sitting, Iorveth scoots closer and runs his fingers through Astarion's now-tousled hair, enjoying how different it is from his own. Lighter, softer. He imagines it longer, but the mental image turns out more comical than ethereal― an unruly mane winding every which way. Iorveth keeps that to himself. ]
I'm glad to hear it.
[ Simply, sincerely, with a little bit of distant disbelief. Both for the fact that Astarion has allowed it despite all his years of despising touch, and for his own ability to give whatever amount of joy Astarion derives from it. ]
After Isengrim, [ he admits, ] I considered discarding the idea of intimacy altogether. Sex for the sake of it, fine, but never intimacy. Not again.
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Still sitting, Iorveth scoots closer and runs his fingers through Astarion's now-tousled hair, enjoying how different it is from his own. Lighter, softer. He imagines it longer, but the mental image turns out more comical than ethereal― an unruly mane winding every which way. Iorveth keeps that to himself. ]
I'm glad to hear it.
[ Simply, sincerely, with a little bit of distant disbelief. Both for the fact that Astarion has allowed it despite all his years of despising touch, and for his own ability to give whatever amount of joy Astarion derives from it. ]
After Isengrim, [ he admits, ] I considered discarding the idea of intimacy altogether. Sex for the sake of it, fine, but never intimacy. Not again.