I like to watch his hands as he works, making a blank page bloom with strokes of ink, adding touches of color to our previously black and yellowish book. His face takes on a special look when he concentrates. His usual easy expression is replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I've seen flashes of this before: in the arena, or when he speaks to a crowd, or that time he shoved the Peacekeepers' guns away from me in District 11. I don't know quite what to make of it. I also become a little fixated on his eyelashes, which ordinarily you don't notice much because they're so blond. But up close, in the sunlight slanting in from the window, they're a light golden color and so long I don't see how they keep from getting all tangled up when he blinks.
I'm very, very late, but I finially finished this piece I made in honour of @princesspufflesposts' birthday! Every conversation I have with you is incredibly interesting and insightful and I'm so happy to be able to call you my friend <3 Happy (late) Birthday!
Special thanks to @anotherunderpaidartist for helping me figure out their faces, reassuring me when I questioned my abilities, and for reminding me to flip the canvas!
