"I'm quite certain that I'm much older than you are."

Though Astarion supposed he had been quite young for an elf back when his time had been permanently stopped. Eternity was a very long time he'd come to learn- but at least he would be beautiful forever. Of course he'd never get to enjoy that- couldn't preen in the looking glass. See himself.

Even that strange device from another world entirely couldn't show him his reflection, "Though certainly no grandmother- so lets choose something a touch less... Poetic than calling attention to the way my curls fall around my pointy ears."

Hands were... Better, he supposed. He could agree, given that he could see them for himself. Nimble fingers, well taken care of. Clean, perfectly manicured.

"And that's better. Even though you haven't even experienced what they're capable of yet."