[ It's good one of them is still conscientious enough to keep them in the shadows, because Astarion's hair has taken all of his focus, any concerns about being caught by an angry mob fading into the background. He holds a curl between two fingers, frowning. Iorveth's reassurance is soothing, at least; he'd have had to throw himself in that fire if Iorveth found him ugly now. ]
I don't know.
[ Even if he'd wanted to, Cazador's spawn didn't have the freedom to change their bodies like that. No one in the palace ever cut their hair, all of them the same from the day they walked in to the day they finally left, save for the scarified souvenirs Cazador left on their backs. ]
I know I'm rather incredible, but even I can't cut hair without a reflection.
no subject
I don't know.
[ Even if he'd wanted to, Cazador's spawn didn't have the freedom to change their bodies like that. No one in the palace ever cut their hair, all of them the same from the day they walked in to the day they finally left, save for the scarified souvenirs Cazador left on their backs. ]
I know I'm rather incredible, but even I can't cut hair without a reflection.
[ He'd never risk that disaster. ]