"Then I shall seek to curtail that emotion as well." She looked at him through the strained frame of her limbs as he walked toward her, closing her eyes as he felt his fingers on her cheek. While many might lament the coldness there, Dove didn't mind - she was familiar with a third form that gesture could take, a man regarding something beautiful in the moment before he does his level best to shatter it. She would take cold obsession any day.<br/><br/>She kept her reserve as he shaded and contoured her face, parting her lips ever so slightly for the brush, silently admiring the color.<br/><br/>"May I ask whose essence it is you hope to capture with your brush? And was she ever so blessed as to experience your skill with either the brush or rope?"<br/><br/>Truth be told, while her limbs ached, the sorcerer's skill did not escape her, and she appreciated it for the precision and aesthetics, if nothing else.