Astarion did look curious about the slate- eyes following the movement of what Thrawn was doing to the thing. He'd seen his share of magic books where the weave saturated the very pages and the spirits whispered, but this was something else entirely. A book was only a book, meant to be read.

This thing appeared to have multiple purposes.

He took it from him, holding it in a way that told of how foreign it was to him, though he quickly got into the rhythm of flicking through the pictures and tapping the ones he felt drawn to. A few paintings equal parts morbid and romantic, some that depicted victory over a foe- one in particular of a man with his slain enemy draped across his lap with several blades piercing the defeated while the victor had his head back screaming at the heavens- but also marble statues where the marble seemed almost soft as flesh from how it had been sculpted, and one stained glass window of a figure in black leading smaller brightly clad figures away. There was a halo around the dark figure's head, suggesting that it might be less sinister than it looked.

Perhaps a depiction of a merciful death.

He did find a few pieces that were familiar- beings with sharp teeth and what seemed like an icy demeanor- but those he simply flicked past.

One he was done, he handed the thing back to Thrawn, "There."