[Ardyn glances at sketches laid before him. Even in their incomplete form, with gestural linework and graphite shading, they're very good — not that he feels the need to point out the obvious, though despite his posturing, the man does feel a flicker of gratitude at the work she’s put in for his sake. Or at least, for the sake of him paying her to be creative.
There’s something that resonates within him, and it’s otherwise… difficult to pin down an exact emotion. A hand hovers over the cerberus, then the reaper, then the tip of his finger pulls the corner of the nude figure closer. The gesture is noncommittal, strangely indecisive.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and if it’s because he’s feeling that internal sense of something being off again (far away), he won’t say that much. When he finally lifts his gaze to her, his smile is a little more subdued this time around.]
It’s hard to choose. There’s something inexplicably compelling about all of them.
[Of course, Ardyn isn’t so oblivious to not have noticed the rolled-up paper in her hand. He nods at it, then glances at Aranea again.]
no subject
There’s something that resonates within him, and it’s otherwise… difficult to pin down an exact emotion. A hand hovers over the cerberus, then the reaper, then the tip of his finger pulls the corner of the nude figure closer. The gesture is noncommittal, strangely indecisive.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and if it’s because he’s feeling that internal sense of something being off again (far away), he won’t say that much. When he finally lifts his gaze to her, his smile is a little more subdued this time around.]
It’s hard to choose. There’s something inexplicably compelling about all of them.
[Of course, Ardyn isn’t so oblivious to not have noticed the rolled-up paper in her hand. He nods at it, then glances at Aranea again.]
Keeping that one to yourself?