[ Depressing, indeed. In Astarion's misery, he at least had control over his appearance, something he could wear like armor. Iorveth didn't even have that. To dwell on it might be unpleasant, he considers, so he keeps his voice light and airy as they enter their rented room. ]
Then I'll style it however pleases me best, when I trim it for you.
[ He'd be lying if he said the idea of giving Iorveth a fashionable cut doesn't appeal to him. Something rugged—a wood elf who lives in the forest doesn't fit a more cosmopolitan style—but still more flattering than the overgrown, uncared for thing currently on his head.
Inside the room, Karlach is locked in an enthusiastic conversation with Jaheira, but she turns her head upon their entrance — then does a double-take when she sees Iorveth. "Oi!" she calls. "What gives, did you fall in the harbor?" ]
no subject
Then I'll style it however pleases me best, when I trim it for you.
[ He'd be lying if he said the idea of giving Iorveth a fashionable cut doesn't appeal to him. Something rugged—a wood elf who lives in the forest doesn't fit a more cosmopolitan style—but still more flattering than the overgrown, uncared for thing currently on his head.
Inside the room, Karlach is locked in an enthusiastic conversation with Jaheira, but she turns her head upon their entrance — then does a double-take when she sees Iorveth. "Oi!" she calls. "What gives, did you fall in the harbor?" ]