#EEEEEW. GOD.... [thinking about how he is in denial of what he feels towards nour so he's fishing for compliments.]

[firstspawn-moved]

What use is a broken mirror to a man who has not seen his reflection for the past 200 hundred years since he has been rebirthed into something truly unforgiving. The cracked glass and her thousands of portraits painting the stars and the blackened sky with an Astarion staring down harshly at his non-existing view. Sanguine hues flickering from the stars to the other man who wasn't paying him any mind, thick lashes of white fluttering close and lips forming into that of an unsatisfied pout. A cute one he is, that Nour. Flirtatious remarks pinning each other in their tents and a heavy heart turning itself away in the rays of his own warming, pitiful heart. He is only here to satisfy your needs and to keep your bedroll warm, Astarion, if you dare speak about your feelings then you should brand yourself as the weak one just as he is to you. Such thoughts taunt him, aggravation nesting and birthing itself bare in his bones. A single eye twitch and the grip on that mirror, it is no wonder that he finds himself standing in the way of Nour.

" Tell me if I'm cute. Is there any sign of aging? Any sign of life? Something? Am I all... all what others fear? A monster of sorts? A devil that is wanted by millions. A one-eyed fool with a heart of gold and a tongue as sharp and cunning as well... just tell me if I look gorgeous at least or at least what you think of me. " Pitiful, pitiful clown. The mirror in both hands now as he leans in. Eyes wide, brows lifted and the flickering of his elven ears. " Be honest. Be very, very honest and I will do the same, my dear Nour. "

@indeath.