[ Shame, about the sneaking. Iorveth takes a second to fantasize about Astarion in those long, sleek boots (and little else), and forcefully shoves that thought away before it can distract him further from the task at hand. Thank the gods (that he hates) for the lack of tadpoles in their brains.
As he moves to inspect the sexy-corset-shoes, a calm-looking young human with thick spectacles (Thurve Thentavva the Third, his nameplate reads) calls out from a few feet away: "five gold pieces for the boots in that section."
Five gold pieces for shoes. Iorveth's brow shoots up, and he looks to Astarion with some amount of hesitation. ]
I've killed men for less.
[ The Waterdhavian Crocs were likely one silver piece, if that. Iorveth could buy a whole closet full of them for the price of these boots alone, how terrifying.
Still, he settles himself on the nearest stool to try them on. Mostly for Astarion's benefit, though he's pleased when he shimmies into them and laces them up with ease, finding that they fit him like a well-tailored glove. ]
no subject
As he moves to inspect the sexy-corset-shoes, a calm-looking young human with thick spectacles (Thurve Thentavva the Third, his nameplate reads) calls out from a few feet away: "five gold pieces for the boots in that section."
Five gold pieces for shoes. Iorveth's brow shoots up, and he looks to Astarion with some amount of hesitation. ]
I've killed men for less.
[ The Waterdhavian Crocs were likely one silver piece, if that. Iorveth could buy a whole closet full of them for the price of these boots alone, how terrifying.
Still, he settles himself on the nearest stool to try them on. Mostly for Astarion's benefit, though he's pleased when he shimmies into them and laces them up with ease, finding that they fit him like a well-tailored glove. ]