[ Astarion tenses, and Iorveth's first instinct is to remove the touch from where it'd settled and to give Astarion a polite handspan-and-a-half of space. It wouldn't do to overwhelm him on a night that started so poorly for him, Iorveth thinks.
(Unaware, of course, of accusatory voices in an old woman's voice, interwoven between horrible nightmares. "He won't help you, he'll hurt you, he'll fail you.")
Meanwhile, the halfling offers her description of the mysterious admirer: "Well. He was a bit taller than Master Blackmane with... the black mane," she titters at her own joke. "Lovely glossy black hair that went down past his shoulders, horns that curved back like..."
A gesture with her hand, demonstrating horns that bend and flare out to the sides.
"A bit on the pale-ish purple-ish side, with ruby eyes... ah, not unlike yours, Master Blackmane." Addressing Astarion this time, and rocking up onto her toes to look at him more closely. "And a very lovely tail, with a slightly blunted tip. Very charming." ]
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(Unaware, of course, of accusatory voices in an old woman's voice, interwoven between horrible nightmares. "He won't help you, he'll hurt you, he'll fail you.")
Meanwhile, the halfling offers her description of the mysterious admirer: "Well. He was a bit taller than Master Blackmane with... the black mane," she titters at her own joke. "Lovely glossy black hair that went down past his shoulders, horns that curved back like..."
A gesture with her hand, demonstrating horns that bend and flare out to the sides.
"A bit on the pale-ish purple-ish side, with ruby eyes... ah, not unlike yours, Master Blackmane." Addressing Astarion this time, and rocking up onto her toes to look at him more closely. "And a very lovely tail, with a slightly blunted tip. Very charming." ]