essea: (1.)
ɪᴏʀᴠᴇᴛʜ. ([personal profile] essea) wrote 2025-03-12 04:01 am (UTC)

[ Quite possibly the dumbest situation Iorveth has ever been in. Naked, towel held against his nethers with one hand, the other holding a glass bottle containing sink cleaning fluid (surely Gale could just magic the sink clean, Gods.)

Pokerface. Externally, he's the spitting image of calm, with the kind of straight-backed arrogance that suggests that he's meant to be here and he has no idea why everyone is freaking out; internally, he's throwing the bottle of sink cleaner right at Astarion's perfect, pretty face. The betrayal. Heinous. Also: utterly expected.

After a lingering moment in the silence that follows, lit by the ghastly white of Dancing Lights:
]

It's Fey Day. I'm a wood elf.

[ Translation: "How very racist of y'all to accuse me of being a perverted nudist during a time when being uninhibited should be celebrated... smh." It's entirely unserious, however, and Iorveth follows that up with a glance towards Astarion (ignoring Gale, who, Iorveth notes, is tracking how far down the tattoos go). ]

Should I remove the towel and start dancing? [ Not helping to dispel the "deranged" accusation. Let him be deranged!!! He doesn't care!!! ]

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