[ Astarion makes a quick, huffing sound of half-amusement as he forces his eyes upwards to the artist himself. ]
You did, didn't you?
[ And Astarion had turned it down. This is hardly cheap flattery, no matter how appealing the work may be. Verso objectively does have a talent for this sort of thing, even if he really can't compare it to much else. But telling him that would be a little too kind, even if what Verso has just done for him is something monumental.
He can't know that. ]
Of course, darling, who wouldn't want to look at this? I'm almost jealous of you lot.
[ Slipping quickly back into a well-crafted persona, he straightens a bit and glances back at the portrait with a little more detachment, wearing the echoes of an almost smile. Like he's looking at someone else and not himself. Just lines on a page.
Why had Verso offered this? Having caught Astarion trying to catch the ghost of a reflection in his own hand mirror too many times? To think that the paladin might actually know what weight it would hold to him is...something. He's not sure how he feels about that. To be seen and seen.
Quickly-- ]
I suppose is a deal is a deal.
[ He pulls out the hairbrush from that secret place no one needs to know about, holding it aloft and turning it over. Admiring it a bit for the last time. Then with a little flourish and a limp wrist, he holds it over. ]
Never let it be said there's no honor amongst thieves.
[ "Honor" in this case being a synonym for "coercion". ]
[ Verso is not certain he would consider this honor, but since he has no honor to speak of himself, he has no room to judge. He takes the hairbrush, picking a curly silver hair off of it. The last thing he needs is more white in his hair.
He sets the brush down, then, reaching for the notebook. Not to take it away—it's still well within Astarion's line of sight. He signs the portrait with his name, something he's only willing to do now that the work has been approved of, and carefully tears the page from the book. ]
[ A shame as that hair was definitely better looking that any of the greys that Verso has growing in, but go off.
There is a slight moment of panic inside Astarion when Verso reaches for the notebook, an urge to immediately pull back and protect it like a dragon with gold. But, blessedly, Astarion is properly gifted the piece without having to embarrass himself for it. ]
Well, this is what I'm paying you for.
[ "Paying". He takes the drawing, now so much more fragile as a single piece of paper, and regards it once again.
But Verso can see the gentle way Astarion handles the paper, like it's something precious. He'd offered to appeal purely to Astarion's vanity, but perhaps it's more than that. Although he can't relate to spending however many centuries Astarion has been alive without seeing himself, he does know what it's like to spend an exceedingly long life feeling that something is missing. ]
[ A moment that is subsequently ruined by Verso's comment, but it was probably coming anyway. Vulnerability is a dangerous thing and that he deigned to even show a glimpse of it says just as much, if not more, than the phrase itself.
So Astarion, predictably, scoffs. His face twists like he's taken a whiff of something unpleasant. ]
Right...all warm and fuzzy.
[ He pulls back, moving to stand and put a bit of distance between them as he presses the drawing to his chest. ]
But let's not push our luck. Making a habit of it ruins the allure.
[ Astarion looks a little as if he expects Verso to snatch the drawing back and tear it up, so he doesn't take the distance to heart. Honestly, he's a bit surprised no one else has ever offered this before; it's not like Astarion is an unpleasant model (to look at, anyway; jury's still out on having to interact with him).
Oh, well. It got Verso back his hairbrush, and perhaps Astarion will be a little more inclined to stop the next goblin who tries to chop off Verso's head. Instead of, you know, letting it happen. Like last time. ]
Ah, you're right. More of an 'every once in a while' treat, hm?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
You did, didn't you?
[ And Astarion had turned it down. This is hardly cheap flattery, no matter how appealing the work may be. Verso objectively does have a talent for this sort of thing, even if he really can't compare it to much else. But telling him that would be a little too kind, even if what Verso has just done for him is something monumental.
He can't know that. ]
Of course, darling, who wouldn't want to look at this? I'm almost jealous of you lot.
[ Slipping quickly back into a well-crafted persona, he straightens a bit and glances back at the portrait with a little more detachment, wearing the echoes of an almost smile. Like he's looking at someone else and not himself. Just lines on a page.
Why had Verso offered this? Having caught Astarion trying to catch the ghost of a reflection in his own hand mirror too many times? To think that the paladin might actually know what weight it would hold to him is...something. He's not sure how he feels about that. To be seen and seen.
Quickly-- ]
I suppose is a deal is a deal.
[ He pulls out the hairbrush from that secret place no one needs to know about, holding it aloft and turning it over. Admiring it a bit for the last time. Then with a little flourish and a limp wrist, he holds it over. ]
Never let it be said there's no honor amongst thieves.
[ "Honor" in this case being a synonym for "coercion". ]
no subject
[ Verso is not certain he would consider this honor, but since he has no honor to speak of himself, he has no room to judge. He takes the hairbrush, picking a curly silver hair off of it. The last thing he needs is more white in his hair.
He sets the brush down, then, reaching for the notebook. Not to take it away—it's still well within Astarion's line of sight. He signs the portrait with his name, something he's only willing to do now that the work has been approved of, and carefully tears the page from the book. ]
You can keep it, if you want.
no subject
There is a slight moment of panic inside Astarion when Verso reaches for the notebook, an urge to immediately pull back and protect it like a dragon with gold. But, blessedly, Astarion is properly gifted the piece without having to embarrass himself for it. ]
Well, this is what I'm paying you for.
[ "Paying". He takes the drawing, now so much more fragile as a single piece of paper, and regards it once again.
He's going to need to pack this very carefully. ]
...
[ And in a rare moment of sincerity: ]
Thank you.
no subject
But Verso can see the gentle way Astarion handles the paper, like it's something precious. He'd offered to appeal purely to Astarion's vanity, but perhaps it's more than that. Although he can't relate to spending however many centuries Astarion has been alive without seeing himself, he does know what it's like to spend an exceedingly long life feeling that something is missing. ]
Feels good to say something nice, doesn't it?
no subject
So Astarion, predictably, scoffs. His face twists like he's taken a whiff of something unpleasant. ]
Right...all warm and fuzzy.
[ He pulls back, moving to stand and put a bit of distance between them as he presses the drawing to his chest. ]
But let's not push our luck. Making a habit of it ruins the allure.
no subject
Oh, well. It got Verso back his hairbrush, and perhaps Astarion will be a little more inclined to stop the next goblin who tries to chop off Verso's head. Instead of, you know, letting it happen. Like last time. ]
Ah, you're right. More of an 'every once in a while' treat, hm?
[ Like ice cream. ]
Well. Bonne nuit, Astarion.