Sanguine || Astarion x Reader

Handsome, Don't You Think?

In which you try and draw the handsome High Elf in your camp, not knowing that the said High Elf would become fond of your creations.

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This particular page in your sketchbook almost wants to disintegrate from how many times you had to erase and redraw a certain vampiric Elven rogue's hair.

You're an artist through and through. Your parents were fortunate enough to give you the education you needed and a few supplementary lessons here and there to further enhance your capabilities and interests. And, as an elf yourself, you've been drawing confidently for nearly a century.

So why couldn't you get his curls right?

Reaching for your eraser for the umpteenth time, you rub at his drawn forehead to remove yet another pathetic attempt to draw that stubborn little curl that falls against his forehead.

The world faded as you sink deeper into your frustration. Perhaps all those lessons and constant critiques you gained in your childhood made their mark on you.

That terrible mark of perfectionism.

Your back has been aching for quite some time now, partially because of the day's hike to the Mountain Pass and partially because you've been hunched over your journal for a good while.

With another frustrated groan, you fail at another attempt to draw that damned curl that usually settles itself so effortlessly on Astarion's forehead. You reach for your eraser again, brutalizing the page again.

"Whatever has that piece of paper done to you?" The smooth timbre of Astarion's voice comments from behind you. It's a voice you've come to know quite intimately these days, especially after your night at the Tiefling party.

Astarion's voice was enough to snap you out of your frustrated trance, finally setting your journal aside to give him your full attention.

Before you could respond, Astarion catches a glimpse of your journal and sees your half finished drawing of him. Well, it doesn't register to Astarion that it may have been him on the paper considering his... quirks. A single silver brow raises itself in curiosity.

"My," he prefaces with an air of his usual dramatics. "Who is that handsome devil that has captivated you so?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." You respond teasingly, purposely hiding the journal from him now that it garnered his attention.

"Come now, dear," he scolds lightly, now sitting himself beside you. "Don't be such a spoil sport."

You roll your eyes at him before opening the journal on your lap to show him your unfinished sketches of him. You slightly take delight by the fact that he's completely unaware that it's him you're drawing. Though, a part of you aches that he doesn't even recognize himself.

"If you must know, I'm drawing an elf I saw not too long ago travelling through the Blighted Village."

Astarion hums, tracing his finger over your sketches.

"Handsome, don't you think?" You ask.

He purses his lips. "I doubt he's more good-looking than me, but I suppose he has... looks." Astarion answers with a wave of a dismissive hand.

You manage to stifle a chuckle. "I'm just annoyed I can't get his hair right."

Astarion takes a closer peek at your work and hums approvingly. "It looks right to me."