[Gale is silent for a moment or two, but given the way his brow tightens and his chews on the inside of his bottom lip, it's evident the gears are turning behind his eyes. His gaze settles itself again on Astarion as he studies his pale features, recommitting them to memory.]
I can help with that. Here—
[He angles himself to sit directly across from Astarion, giving him one final look before he closes his eyes. He concentrates, picturing his partner in his mind - not just how he sees Astarion, but as he truly is, every hair, every feature. He's going for accuracy, not idealism.
Gale holds out a hand in front of him, letting his mind trace the contours of Astarion's face, from the way his lashes curve around those ruby eyes to that one crease he's so fond of. He's conjured Mystra's likeness countless times this way, but to replicate someone else is entirely new.
And undeniably exciting. His heart thrums with the orb in his chest as his hand glows, an image forming above it: recreated from illusory magic is a bust of Astarion himself, right down to his red eyes and roguish smile.]
no subject
I can help with that. Here—
[He angles himself to sit directly across from Astarion, giving him one final look before he closes his eyes. He concentrates, picturing his partner in his mind - not just how he sees Astarion, but as he truly is, every hair, every feature. He's going for accuracy, not idealism.
Gale holds out a hand in front of him, letting his mind trace the contours of Astarion's face, from the way his lashes curve around those ruby eyes to that one crease he's so fond of. He's conjured Mystra's likeness countless times this way, but to replicate someone else is entirely new.
And undeniably exciting. His heart thrums with the orb in his chest as his hand glows, an image forming above it: recreated from illusory magic is a bust of Astarion himself, right down to his red eyes and roguish smile.]