[ Bastien glances back to smile: yes, that's By, and he loves it, claws and all. ]
Thank you for letting me touch your soft fluffy belly sometimes. It's a great honor.
[ It's also not entirely a metaphor, at the moment. He comes back to Byerly not with a gift— ☹ —but with a small wooden box of sewing supplies and a penknife. He sinks to sit between Byerly's knees; he slices a button with a fraying thread all the way free. ]
You were going to lose this one, [ he explains as an aside, setting the button on By's thigh, ] the next time someone got excited about removing your shirt.
[ It could wait until the shirt is no longer on Byerly's person. Obviously. But he thinks it's hot, to have sharp things so close to someone's skin but only use them to take care. ]
Anyway, you can't forget falling asleep in the sun and having legs that go every which way. [ He illustrates with his arms (and the knife, before snapping it shut). ] And the pure contrariness of having a feline soul in Ferelden.
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Thank you for letting me touch your soft fluffy belly sometimes. It's a great honor.
[ It's also not entirely a metaphor, at the moment. He comes back to Byerly not with a gift— ☹ —but with a small wooden box of sewing supplies and a penknife. He sinks to sit between Byerly's knees; he slices a button with a fraying thread all the way free. ]
You were going to lose this one, [ he explains as an aside, setting the button on By's thigh, ] the next time someone got excited about removing your shirt.
[ It could wait until the shirt is no longer on Byerly's person. Obviously. But he thinks it's hot, to have sharp things so close to someone's skin but only use them to take care. ]
Anyway, you can't forget falling asleep in the sun and having legs that go every which way. [ He illustrates with his arms (and the knife, before snapping it shut). ] And the pure contrariness of having a feline soul in Ferelden.