wanted to kiss your skin and your everything (смешанная)

Your fingers brush over the pages of the open sketchbook in your lap, a charcoal stick held in your other hand. You flick it over your knuckles, tounging at the back of your teeth as you allow your wrist to move with your flowing thoughts.
You think of Astarion’s words from the first time you had caught him gazing into that broken mirror, fresh on your mind even if it feels like it’s been ages since you’d heard them.
 
“I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see.”
 
(Or, you draw Astarion to show him what he looks like.)