[ The grip tightens again, and Iorveth pauses mid-step to stop, pivot, and press his lips against Astarion's knuckles. A silent assurance that he's not leaving. ]
It isn't about what I want. [ Though he does acknowledge that he's being awfully insistent about something he claims isn't about him. Opinionated and difficult, even at the best of times. Iorveth knows his own flaws; even Isengrim had called him out on it, many many times in the past. ] You could wish to convert to the Church of Ilmater tomorrow, and I'd love you all the same.
[ Another kiss, this time to Astarion's nonexistent pulsepoint along his wrist. ]
Is it so strange to think that it gives me joy to know that you want things for yourself?
no subject
It isn't about what I want. [ Though he does acknowledge that he's being awfully insistent about something he claims isn't about him. Opinionated and difficult, even at the best of times. Iorveth knows his own flaws; even Isengrim had called him out on it, many many times in the past. ] You could wish to convert to the Church of Ilmater tomorrow, and I'd love you all the same.
[ Another kiss, this time to Astarion's nonexistent pulsepoint along his wrist. ]
Is it so strange to think that it gives me joy to know that you want things for yourself?