[ Juggling Astarion's new boots and Gale's own sandals, Iorveth swerves into the alley, sways, leans－
－and laughs, forehead pressed against Astarion's shoulder, shoulders hunched and shaking in time to his hiked breathing. Genuinely amused by how often Astarion can incite him into－ to use familiar terms－ "acting a fool". ]
There are other shoemakers, [ he finally manages, still chuckling. ] And I have my imagination.
[ Dark leather on pale skin. That image will live rent-free in Iorveth's head for a while, harmlessly beguiling in inopportune moments. What a luxury, to have enough space in his brain for things other than anger or hate. ]
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－and laughs, forehead pressed against Astarion's shoulder, shoulders hunched and shaking in time to his hiked breathing. Genuinely amused by how often Astarion can incite him into－ to use familiar terms－ "acting a fool". ]
There are other shoemakers, [ he finally manages, still chuckling. ] And I have my imagination.
[ Dark leather on pale skin. That image will live rent-free in Iorveth's head for a while, harmlessly beguiling in inopportune moments. What a luxury, to have enough space in his brain for things other than anger or hate. ]