[ Mention of the unrealized dream of becoming vampire ascendant evokes an obvious reaction; a small but noticeable twitch of Iorveth's scarred lips, the shadow of a frown tugging at the corner or it. It's the one thing that he fears will fester in the future, a thing that Iorveth thinks that Astarion might regret centuries later, when the novelty of being loved by Iorveth might have worn off. A disservice to Astarion to think that way, perhaps, but it's the one small bone in Iorveth's throat that keeps sticking.

He doesn't pull away, though. Might have, in the past. Their hands stay held, even if the grip loosens just a sliver. ]

I wish you to be whoever you wish to be, [ is his response, which is the flipside of the prideful way in which he always states that he's exactly who he needs himself to be; the logical next step after securing one's freedom. ] And if that involves ill-fitting wizard's robes and Gale's pretentious academy, I'd not say no.