Arthur was sitting on a rock overlooking the vast and barren landscape. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, his eyes distant and dreamy. In one hand, he held a pencil, idly twirling it between his fingers as he contemplated the next stroke of the lead. The wind rustled through his unkempt hair, the cold biting at his cheeks, but he paid it no heed. For Arthur, the world was a blank canvas, and he was the brush that brought it to life.

"Stay still. I can't draw you if you're moving so much." Arthur tells you as he sketches out your face shape on the blank page.

You feel a sense of pride and flattery at being the subject of his art. Even though it's just a simple sketch, it's still a part of him, and he's chosen to dedicate it to you. The soft pencil glides effortlessly across the paper, capturing every nuance of your features, from the arch of your brow to the curve of your lips. You can almost feel his intense focus as he concentrates on bringing your likeness to life.