[ Acclimating is fine― gods know that Astarion deserves time to sit with himself and listen to what he wants. The only thing that Iorveth regrets about any of this is not having given Astarion more time, but he also acknowledges that they didn't have much of it on their side to begin with. The Netherbrain, the parasites, the cultists. Iorveth could have waited until they defeated their final foe to ask Astarion to stay, perhaps, but that extra time probably may not have given Astarion any more context or perspective.
Oh well. Iorveth can give Astarion as much time as he needs now, though; he wasn't lying about lifetimes. Slowly turning onto his side with Astarion in tow, he reaches for Astarion's hand and presses it to his lips, trailing his mouth along long fingers and kissing over the bumps and dips of perfect knuckles. ]
...Perhaps I could craft you something. Out of wood and gold.
[ Shiny enough to please Astarion, with a bit of Aen Seidhe flavor. ] Unless you prefer something more expensive.
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Oh well. Iorveth can give Astarion as much time as he needs now, though; he wasn't lying about lifetimes. Slowly turning onto his side with Astarion in tow, he reaches for Astarion's hand and presses it to his lips, trailing his mouth along long fingers and kissing over the bumps and dips of perfect knuckles. ]
...Perhaps I could craft you something. Out of wood and gold.
[ Shiny enough to please Astarion, with a bit of Aen Seidhe flavor. ] Unless you prefer something more expensive.