[ Very sweet. A feline and canine, bonding. Iorveth imagines a fluffy white cat curled up on the back of a big, good-natured golden retriever (or whatever the Toril equivalent is), and smiles to himself as he gets up and moves to retrieve his gear from their bedroom. Gale and Astarion can have A Moment while he gets geared up. It's a quick, instinctive process: bows slotting into cradles and quiver slung against his hip, sword in its sheath, knives tucked away out of sight.
He's armed to the teeth by the time he returns, and Gale looks－ maybe a little disappointed by the fact that his guests will be gone again, despite the fact that all they ever did was be rude to him and eat all his food (citation needed). Iorveth makes a mental note to get more than a few souvenirs for Gale upon return.
"Well, I suppose we should get to it," Gale says, invisible dog ears drooping. "I wish I could join you on this little adventure, but I'm sure there'll be more opportunities in the future."
A wave, and they're led out onto the patio with its soft-looking divans and stacks of books. The Sea of Swords stretches deep and dark beyond the glittering portal situated between two armchairs, a dark void that makes the magic look even more frenetic in comparison. ]
I hate portals, [ Iorveth grouses. Which is why he holds out his hand for Astarion to hold, and not because he thinks Astarion needs the support (though he does, a little). ]
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He's armed to the teeth by the time he returns, and Gale looks－ maybe a little disappointed by the fact that his guests will be gone again, despite the fact that all they ever did was be rude to him and eat all his food (citation needed). Iorveth makes a mental note to get more than a few souvenirs for Gale upon return.
"Well, I suppose we should get to it," Gale says, invisible dog ears drooping. "I wish I could join you on this little adventure, but I'm sure there'll be more opportunities in the future."
A wave, and they're led out onto the patio with its soft-looking divans and stacks of books. The Sea of Swords stretches deep and dark beyond the glittering portal situated between two armchairs, a dark void that makes the magic look even more frenetic in comparison. ]
I hate portals, [ Iorveth grouses. Which is why he holds out his hand for Astarion to hold, and not because he thinks Astarion needs the support (though he does, a little). ]