[ Hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that Astarion smells like. Complicated, like the rest of him. Iorveth peels himself back, leans into the hand sifting through his hair, then straightens again, aware that he's crowding Astarion's space. ]

You wear blood and grave dirt well. [ A sliver of a smile, and he glances down at the cub. It looks like it wants to climb onto the bed and nest next to Astarion for the night, which is new: it usually chooses Halsin or Shadowheart to sleep near. ]

Apparently, the owlbear feels the same. [ Iorveth laughs, a brief huff. ] At this rate, I'll have to sleep on the floor.

[ The cub chirps sleepily again, and nuzzles its beak against Astarion's knee. ]