[ Turning onto his side, Astarion snatches that hand right back. Demanding, like—to use Iorveth's favorite metaphor—a cat shoving its head back under your hand, desperate for affection. He strokes Iorveth's knuckles with his thumb, basking in Iorveth's gaze.
He usually doesn't like to be looked at, honestly. Too easy to read maleficence in a stranger's gaze. There's never anything harmful in Iorveth's gaze, though; it feels warm, like lazing in the sunlight. ]
I enjoy emptying out that too-full mind of yours.
[ It's bursting at the seams. A wonder the tadpole even fit in there, crammed in his brain with all of Iorveth's other thoughts. ]
...And I do rather like it when you're out of your mind.
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He usually doesn't like to be looked at, honestly. Too easy to read maleficence in a stranger's gaze. There's never anything harmful in Iorveth's gaze, though; it feels warm, like lazing in the sunlight. ]
I enjoy emptying out that too-full mind of yours.
[ It's bursting at the seams. A wonder the tadpole even fit in there, crammed in his brain with all of Iorveth's other thoughts. ]
...And I do rather like it when you're out of your mind.