[ Astarion does move away for a moment, stepping away to feel the sun on his face; the happiness he'd expected to feel does come, slowly, creeping in an inch for every second that he spends in the sun's warmth without bursting into flame. He turns back after a moment, and— gods, Iorveth's eye is wet. Taking a few steps in again, he wipes a thumb underneath it. ]
There's no reason to cry, my sweet.
[ Although seeing Iorveth get misty-eyed makes him a little misty-eyed, too. Not because of the cloak, although an insuppressible smile is quickly spreading across his face from the joy of it all, but because Iorveth really cares. Ridiculous. Wonderful. ]
Gods, what a relief. I thought we'd have to plan a night wedding.
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There's no reason to cry, my sweet.
[ Although seeing Iorveth get misty-eyed makes him a little misty-eyed, too. Not because of the cloak, although an insuppressible smile is quickly spreading across his face from the joy of it all, but because Iorveth really cares. Ridiculous. Wonderful. ]
Gods, what a relief. I thought we'd have to plan a night wedding.