an owl delivered @blightbloom;
❛ I brought snacks and cuddles—pick your poison. ❜ for astarion. she's bringing dead squirrels flirty starters: accepting!
The first thing he’d been able to notice was the scent. Everyone had their own unique mask, one that made it just a little easier for him to nose out those he’d been familiar with, if the need arose. His sense of smell only activated precisely under very specific conditions– those that were either threats or food. Poisons or blood.
This was one that he’d become starkly familiar with over the prior weeks, given the terrain of the land and his current company. The sudden blossom of an earthen undertone, mingled with the musk that bathed itself within a rodent’s pelt. It was thick, almost warm within his nostrils; certainly an appeasement to his senses.
From where he’d seated himself before his tent, the elf merely poised his features in her direction; sharp, inquisitive, and thoroughly pleased with the offering. He could go without the latter half, but he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers. Not that he was necessarily begging for either– but.
Simply put, he’d be a fool to turn the platter away.
“Well, this seems rather… contingent,” the low drag to his vocals mirrored the idle pull to his gaze over the squirrels within her palms, extended and held upward as though she’d plucked them like flowers along the way. “I’m certainly not complaining by any means, please– where are my manners?” The tune of his timbre had danced itself into a contemptuous facade as he’d regarded himself, shaking his head and fanning a hand out next to where he’d been sitting. “If I’m given the option as to what comes first, I’ve always preferred a good meal prior to a good lay.”
The smile that stretched over ashen lips split wide enough to reveal teeth; uncaring and deliberate in its spread while the gesture of invitation had once again been patted upon near his own seating.
