[ Iorveth follows a beat after, on slightly shaky footing. His growing headache and poor balance, he attributes to bloodlessness from the night before; he braces himself against the countertop before striding across the room to where Astarion and the tiefling are, and stands an imposing step behind his partner, posture straight despite the ringing in his ears.
The stranger is handsome. Well-proportioned features made more appealing by the intensity of his eyes, whether from starvation or desperation or both, Iorveth can't tell. When he opens his mouth to speak, his tone is polite velvet― careful and deferential without being meek or quiet.
"Forgive me for my poor manners. It's only that... well, I've roamed these streets for a century or more, and I've never seen anyone so lovely," he offers, only sparing Iorveth a cursory glance. Iorveth knows what's behind that fleeting glance: a silent dismissal if he's ever seen one, and he feels his skin prickle as the tiefling continues.
"I suppose I wanted to know... how a person like you found their way to Athkatla."
(A legitimate question. What kind of situation would call for a spawn to venture so far from a master?) ]
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The stranger is handsome. Well-proportioned features made more appealing by the intensity of his eyes, whether from starvation or desperation or both, Iorveth can't tell. When he opens his mouth to speak, his tone is polite velvet― careful and deferential without being meek or quiet.
"Forgive me for my poor manners. It's only that... well, I've roamed these streets for a century or more, and I've never seen anyone so lovely," he offers, only sparing Iorveth a cursory glance. Iorveth knows what's behind that fleeting glance: a silent dismissal if he's ever seen one, and he feels his skin prickle as the tiefling continues.
"I suppose I wanted to know... how a person like you found their way to Athkatla."
(A legitimate question. What kind of situation would call for a spawn to venture so far from a master?) ]