essea: (42.)
ɪᴏʀᴠᴇᴛʜ. ([personal profile] essea) wrote2022-09-07 10:10 am
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nibbling: (pic#17335032)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-07 04:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ Yes, he opens his mouth to say, the wine is for you. You know, so Iorveth doesn't notice that he doesn't remember how to dance. The words die in his throat, though, as his greedy eyes widen to saucers in the face of all of this treasure. He immediately makes a beeline for the sparkliest thing he can find, a large gem that appears black at first but reflects prismatic color when held up to the light.

As he inspects it:
] Who?

[ A beat passes before recognition comes to him, and he says, ] Oh! That beast of a woman.

[ He didn't remember her name, because it wasn't worth remembering. Just another strange encounter on the way to Moonrise Towers.

Whirling around to face Iorveth, he holds the gem up— then frowns.
] Mm. I don't think this will fit in your pockets.

[ By his own fault, the pants are a bit... form-fitting. ]
nibbling: (pic#17204352)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-07 04:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He's never put forethought into anything before, and he's not going to start now. Besides, he may never have a chance to force Iorveth into tight pants again, and giving up his one opportunity would be ridiculously foolish.

Astarion steps forward, inspecting the yellow pants with a look of abject disgust. Sure, they're expensive, but the cost of wearing these is far greater than any coin. It costs dignity. His lip curls at the ugliness before him before he glances up at Iorveth, eyes suddenly gone wide and pleading.
]

I hope you're suggesting that you wear them.

[ Iorveth would never suggest something so awful as putting Astarion in ugly clothes! ]
nibbling: (pic#17292421)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-08 02:33 am (UTC)(link)
[ Iorveth's resourcefulness is so charming that he can hardly find it in himself to make fun of it, even if it is sort of ridiculous to create a makeshift bag out of an ugly pair of pants. Endeared, he says, ] Aren't you handy?

[ The 'bag' is as large as it is ugly, so he takes the opportunity to turn around and start shoving the most exciting items inside. Jewels, a glittering golden shortsword that's likely more for decoration than practical use, a pair of fine leather shoes with silver filigree. When he looks over his shoulder to glance at Iorveth, he's smiling, but not for long. The expression on Iorveth's face makes him raise an eyebrow, curious. ]

What are those knick-knacks that you're so furious at?
nibbling: (pic#17273362)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-08 03:37 am (UTC)(link)
[ Oh. Perhaps he shouldn't have called them 'knick-knacks'. ...Oh, well. If Iorveth were going to end this relationship over Astarion's insensitivity, he surely would have done it already. ]

Plenty of shiny things. [ Rings, necklaces, earrings. If it glitters or sparkles, he tossed it into his bright yellow pants-bag. ] Don't worry, I'll share what doesn't flatter me with you.

[ A selfless offer! ]

Ah, but— [ Always a 'but' to his generosity. ] I'd like to retain some things to sell, too.

[ Selling stolen things for money that he then spends lawfully — gods, it's like he's turning into a goody two-shoes. There's something about the experience of actually buying things, though; after so long having to steal whatever he might need, there's appeal to being a valued customer. ]

I've had my eye [ —or, well, nose— ] on a rather expensive scent at the perfumer.
nibbling: (pic#16872722)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-08 06:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Iorveth's nose tickles Astarion's ear, and he fights the urge to giggle in an entirely undignified way. It's strange how averse he is to the idea of being touched by most people--hells, even to the idea of them standing too near--but how very much in favor he is of being close to Iorveth. His torso is warm against Astarion's back, his arms snug and comforting around his middle. Astarion shifts the makeshift bag to one hand, using his freed one to move Iorveth's arms a little tighter around him. ]

Jasmine and honey, I think, but perhaps I should commission gold and orchids instead. I don't mind the idea.

[ He is the type of person who deserves a unique, one-of-a-kind scent... that isn't the stench of undead. ]

I'll spend some of the coin on you, of course. I rather enjoy seeing you be spoiled with sweets.

[ It's so utterly incongruous with Iorveth's stern demeanor. Watching him shovel cakes and pastries into his mouth is entertainment all its own. ]
nibbling: (pic#16896125)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-09 02:23 am (UTC)(link)
[ The sentiment is so endearing that Astarion can't help but turn around and fist his fingers into the fabric of Iorveth's shirt, tugging him close so that he can press a kiss to his mouth. Fun. Iorveth prides himself on his sharp edges, but it's his soft ones that Astarion most adores. When he speaks gently, when the crease between his eyebrows fades, when he smiles. A surge of fondness courses through him with such an intensity that it's actually disgusting, but he doesn't have it in him to feel embarrassed.

When he pulls away, it's with a grin and eyes far too full of obvious affection.
]

I won't tell anyone that the big, bad freedom fighter had fun. I'd hate to ruin your sourpuss reputation.

[ Not that anyone would believe him if he told them that Iorveth sat at a table happily eating cakes made by an old lady who later gave him embroidery lessons. ]

Your hedonism [ —if one considers allowing himself some of the most basic pleasures of life 'hedonism'— ] will be our little secret.
nibbling: (pic#17335023)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-10 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ugh!! Denied further affection. Astarion pouts like the spoiled brat he is when Iorveth steps away, displeased at being cut off. The sweet admission of not having enjoyed trancing softens the blow, though, and he gravitates toward Iorveth again, slinging the mustard-colored 'bag' over his shoulder and petting the soft blanket. ]

Oh, I hated it.

[ His own admission, albeit offhanded. Trancing only meant restlessness and reliving events he'd rather forget. Even in a semiconscious, meditative state, he had no peace. ]

Sharing a room with my imbecilic siblings didn't help. Ugh, Yousen snored louder than Karlach.

[ How can one gnome be so godsdamned loud? Regardless— ]

But I've much better bedfellows now.
nibbling: (pic#17273788)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-10 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ Astarion glances up from the warm, furry blanket his palm is resting on, eyebrow quirked. Obviously he thought it was strange to be asked to share a bed by someone who'd continually rebuffed his advances and frequently scolded him. He'd still thought that the only reason Iorveth tolerated him at all was his elvishness, and that he was only considered an improvement on Halsin because, well, Halsin is annoying.

That doesn't mean that he didn't like it, though, strange as it was. Again, obviously, based on the way he kept crawling into Iorveth's bed like a stray cat brought in from the cold.
]

Well. [ A shrug, followed by a somewhat embarrassed snort. It feels stupid to say so now, but— ] I found it strange that you wanted to share a bed with our clothes on.
nibbling: (pic#16875931)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-10 09:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A blanket looks ridiculous against his fancy party attire, but the fluffy pelt of whatever animal was killed to make it is warm and pleasant, so he allows it to stay, shrugging it over his shoulders. He might get himself a fur coat sometime, actually; stylish and functional.

In reply:
] Murdering your most detested person does have a way of sticking with you.

[ He'd know. The experience gets built up so much, the anticipation so great, and then when it happens it's just over, with nothing left to do but ruminate on it for the next eternity. Then again, Iorveth hardly relished in Henselt's suffering the way Astarion did with Cazador. It was quick — hells, maybe even painless. If it's a clean kill Iorveth was going for, it seems impossible that he'd be disappointed. ]

—Happy thoughts, though, I hope.
nibbling: (pic#17335625)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-11 12:21 am (UTC)(link)
Oh.

[ It's genuine surprise, like it never occurred to him that that night was special to Iorveth for any reason other than seeing the man he hates dead on the floor. As he watches Iorveth's small smile, he feels his shriveled, blackened heart grow three sizes. It's awful how warm and fuzzy Iorveth makes him feel, like he's being wrapped up in a comforting embrace. ]

—You ridiculous romantic, [ he laughs, halfway between teasing and embarrassed at how much Iorveth's solemn declarations work for him. ] You do know how to make an elf swoon.

[ In spite of Iorveth's cautious glances toward the door, Astarion envelops them both in the furry blanket and presses their mouths together. Who cares about getting caught stealing from the rich? He wants to kiss Iorveth's stupid, wonderful face, and he wants to do it now. ]
nibbling: (pic#16872694)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-11 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ With a playful grin: ] Oh, but I have the loveliest trinket right here.

[ Iorveth can't seem to see himself as anything less than hideous, much less lovely, but Astarion's happy to keep beating it into his thick skull. All dressed up in his finery, with his eyepatch and cape and very tight pants, he's absolutely swoon-worthy. More desirable than all of the people upstairs combined, Astarion thinks.

He winds his ankle around Iorveth's, pressing him closer, basking in all of the attention that he so rightfully deserves. Dressed in these soft, silky clothes, warmed by the expensive pelt around his shoulders, and enjoying the feel of Iorveth's breath, it's the closest he's ever going to get to Elysium. That is, until he hears, "Oh, gods! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt—"

As he cranes his head, he sees a half-orc woman instinctively backstepping out of the room she so rudely entered without knocking. Halfway through, though, she stops, a look of realization crossing her face. "Hey, wait a minute..."
]
nibbling: (pic#17335037)

[personal profile] nibbling 2024-12-12 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ Astarion's eyes flick from the half-orc to Iorveth, brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before recognition flits across his face. Ah. Going for the 'blameless foreigner' angle. The only issue with that, of course, is that Astarion is no foreigner. He can't speak Aen Seidhe worth a damn; even with its similarities to Elvish, he can only somewhat make out the words that sound familiar.

So, he goes with the only phrase he knows. "I like you", or something similar to it — Iorveth has never bothered to correct his garbled pronunciation, so it's hardly authentic. But it's foreign-sounding enough that the half-orc, who speaks even less of the Aen Seidhe dialect than he does, seems to believe that he's just another elf who can't speak Common.

"YOU," she says loudly (as if that'll somehow cross the language barrier), gesticulating wildly with each word, "UPSTAIRS." A point upwards. "NOT DOWNSTAIRS."
]

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