[ Sweet. Iorveth leans into Astarion's palm, relishing the coolness of it until the touch inevitably retracts, leaving Iorveth to watch as Gale bustles around like a brunet hurricane, gathering his things and doing some last-minute tidying with well-aimed spells and muttered incantations.
Before Astarion is rushed out of the door: ] Astarion. [ A soft press of his lips to that porcelain cheek. ] I love you.
[ In his language, a reminder of the night prior. With that said, there's also an addendum: ] Try not to start any wars, and enjoy yourself.
[ His lips curl up just slightly, and it's one more gentle sift of fingers through fine curls before Iorveth steps back and helps Gale usher Astarion out into the crowded night and towards the impressive operahouse with its more-than-impressive guestlist. Along the way, Astarion will be treated to running commentary about some of the more famous attendees― the aforementioned Lady Silverhand, Open Lord of Waterdeep, accompanied by the former High Mage of Silverymoon ("Taern Hornblade! He doesn't look a day over 70, but he's almost three centuries old, I think"). ]
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Before Astarion is rushed out of the door: ] Astarion. [ A soft press of his lips to that porcelain cheek. ] I love you.
[ In his language, a reminder of the night prior. With that said, there's also an addendum: ] Try not to start any wars, and enjoy yourself.
[ His lips curl up just slightly, and it's one more gentle sift of fingers through fine curls before Iorveth steps back and helps Gale usher Astarion out into the crowded night and towards the impressive operahouse with its more-than-impressive guestlist. Along the way, Astarion will be treated to running commentary about some of the more famous attendees― the aforementioned Lady Silverhand, Open Lord of Waterdeep, accompanied by the former High Mage of Silverymoon ("Taern Hornblade! He doesn't look a day over 70, but he's almost three centuries old, I think"). ]