[ There is little that she might say: she speaks of the herbs in the forest, her enjoyment of a book she had found, and the quiet she had settled with as she had tried to visit Shadowheart - though she has been trying not to steal too often into Astarion's rooms, now he has a guest in his suite. It seems more appropriate, so she does not disturb him and his friendships.
She does adore the chicken, however.
Lauralae does not seem to care much for the awkwardness nor the delay, reaching to take his arm again and letting her fingers brush gently over his wrist, his palm, hesitating for a moment. He is warm, despite her gloves. Dragonfire in his blood, perhaps. ]
Do you know much of the stars? There are many stories to them.
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She does adore the chicken, however.
Lauralae does not seem to care much for the awkwardness nor the delay, reaching to take his arm again and letting her fingers brush gently over his wrist, his palm, hesitating for a moment. He is warm, despite her gloves. Dragonfire in his blood, perhaps. ]
Do you know much of the stars? There are many stories to them.
[ That is an agreement, of course. ]