Painted Lies

[Isikais]

Painted Lies 12th Morning of Spring 510 AV "There's so many things that we miss in our everyday lives. We're so busy hustling, bustling, chasing our dreams We forget the little things. Like blue skies, green eyes, and our babies growing. Like rainbows, fresh snow, and the smell of summer. We forget to live." ~Lamb, Little Things Syna's great invasive eye began to peak across the horizon by the time Isikais wandered out of the broken remnants of the once great building. The corpse of the unfortunate whore still lay in the foyer, the pool of blood and dirt congealed brown and grey with a new layer of dust. Isikais peered down at her face, the same grimace of pain and horror that he etched there the night before frozen in grizzly relief on across her features, eyes gazing off into an eternity of terror. He shook his head in disappointment, and walked on, leaving the body and the thoughts it brought there behind him. The haze of dawn and dew settled over the seaside town, nudging its denizens from their beds to shuffle about for yet another day. In the distance he could just begin to hear the dull roar of ocean and shuffling feet, half-hearted morning greetings, and semi-conscious drudgery. He looked out over the ruins, and past, to the edges of the modern town, the small bastion where order kept a modicum of law. Steady steps brought him back across the trail he had wandered the night before. He paused at the edge of the ruins, looking back at the quiet solitude they had offered him for the several hours after his encounter with the prostitute. A deep breath, and he stepped back into his role, and onto the populated streets. It was a short trip to the small cottage that he had visited only a day ago. Stepping to the door and listening for activity, he softly rapped a single knuckle against the wood. From inside, a drowsy voice called out, soft and muddled by sleep stained irritation. "Who is it?" "Dahlia, it's Isikais." He called, just loud enough for her to hear him. "Izzy...it's...what time..." A stumbling rumble, one latch, then another, and another, a bolt, another, and then a chain. The facade of order, it seemed, was not enough comfort for this resident of Zeltiva. She opened the door just a crack at first, a bleary eyed squint at the figure hovering outside. "Are you ok?" "I am...well enough, but I need to come in." He nodded down to his side, where the tear in his clothing marked the site of the daggers entrance earlier. He could have willed the wound closed for the time being, but it would be a temporary fix at best. "Gods, Izzy!" The door flung open, as she exclaimed. Dahlia was a whimsical creature, tussled hair and wild paint splattered color on even her sleeping clothes. A whirlwind of uncoordinated motion amidst the perilous landscape of mess that was her one room living quarters, Dahlia wandered about, stepping over bundles of clothes, trays of paint, canvas, and wooden stands. It was a mess, all color and dissaray. Grabbing the heavy curtains with bunched fists, Dahlia flung the thick fabric aside and light streamed in, dancing across the painted surfaces of the house. "I'm sorry to wake you. I just...didn't have anywhere else to go." Isikais watched the flurry of motion, as he closed the door behind him. "Nonsense. You don't have to apologize. Now come here and let me see how bad it is." She flitted about, a bundle of untamed energy, even in her state of worry. Isikais removed his vest and shirt, walking over to the white fabric dressed rectangular pillar of wood he had occupied previously as the subject of her painting. "I'm fine, Dahlia, really." Isikais assured her, willing the wound closed as best he could without preparation. Morphing magic was not the best for hiding injuries, and completely useless in the long run, but he could at least make it look less severe than he knew it was. Edges knit together slightly, innards hidden as flesh pressed together, leaving only a small incision where the blade had ripped his side. "Stop being such a boy about it for a second, would you?" Dahlia swept her hands across his side, running her fingers around the now minor cut. There was a delicate joy in her hands as she touched his too cold flesh. "It's not even bleeding." Isikais pointed out, knowing full well that he lacked the ability, or even the fluid to 'bleed'. "No, but from the looks of it, the wound may already be infected. You've got some fluid building up in..." Isikais grabbed her hands with a sharp inhale, feigning pain as he did. "I will be fine." He reassured her, not keen on the amateur medical examination she was giving him. Nuit ichor might easily be mistaken for the pus of an infected wound, and he did not want her to continue down the road that would surely end in her trying to drain the substance from his side. "My clothes, on the other hand..." He reached for the shirt, showing her the wide slash in the fabric. "Give me those." She sighed knowing that he would not let her tend to his injuries any further. Isikais handed her the garments with a friendly smile. Dahlia shook her head, a playful grin and a roll of her eyes as she swept long brown hair over her shoulder. She rummaged through the contents of a dresser near the foot of her bed, finally producing a small sewing kit. "Thank you Dahlia. I'm as useless with a needle and thread as I am with a paintbrush." Isikais chuckled as she walked back, dragging a stool with her and began to thread the needle. "Oh, don't thank me yet, you fool." Dahlia chuckled, head still tilted down, but brown eyes peering up at Isikais. "I'm not doing this for free." "Oh, and what will the price be this time?" "Well, I'll give you a guess, but you might as well start taking off the rest of your clothes while you're thinking." A playful smile scurried across her lips as she wound the thread through the fabric. "It's just a shirt. It wont even take you ten minutes." Isikais playfully countered with feigned indignation. "That's right. And that's just for the shirt." She stopped sewing and looked up. "If you want the vest done, you're going to have to make me a cup of tea." "I'd better stop negotiating or I'll be cooking you breakfast and doing your laundry too, soon, huh?" Isikais chuckled as he stood and walked over to the kitchen area, grabbing a kettle, filling it with water, and placing it over the fire as he had seen her do before. "Who said I was done negotiating." Dahlia smirked, and went back to mending the shirt. "Izzy...what were you...I mean, these clothes are covered in grime...and...lord knows what else. What happened?" Isikais inhaled and sighed long. He knew the questions would come, so he had prepared a careful lie. "A hooker tried to kill me, because I turned her down. We had a bloody knife fight. If you think I look bad, you should see her." Isikais smiled playfully. "If you don't want to tell me, fine, but don't be a jerk." "Fine, I was wandering around the ruins of the old city, and I damn near skewered myself on a piece of metal." Often times the best lie was to tell the truth and have it mistaken for humor. "You went wandering around the ruins and didn't bring me!" Dahlia tossed the mended shirt onto the bed and went to work on the vest. "Yes." "Well, see if I invite you on any adventures from now on." "I was scouting for our trip." "Scouting?" Dahlia looked up again, a single eyebrow raised. "Yes, scouting. I wanted to find a good location for you to paint in. I thought there might be some interesting light and shadows in the ruins." Dahlia shook her head again. Isikais couldn't tell this time if she had believed the lie, but it didn't matter, as long as he managed to follow through. He reached for the sputtering kettle, and poured the contents into the cup of tea, stirred it once and carried it to Dahlia. She had masterfully managed to fix the clothes in practically no time, tossing the vest on top of the shirt on the bed. Isikais stepped close to her where she sat, a gentle caress of her arm as he pulled her up from the stool, and placed the tea cup in her hands. She looked up into his eyes, allowing the moment to last only a breath before a wry grin crept across her lips. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get naked." Isikais smirked and pushed a strand of her unruly brown hair back behind her ear. "Well you're all business, aren't you." "Go on. I have classes to get to eventually." Isikais undressed, happy to take the opportunity again to remove the irksome garments that society demanded he wear. Only in Dahlia's house could he display the garment he truly enjoyed. The fleshy vessel he wore was a more spectacular set of clothing than any fabric could be in his mind, and it seemed the same for Dahlia. She wandered over to her canvas, the fruits of their last session already beginning to dry in immortal acrylic. She looked over to the naked figure of Isikais, smooth skin and wiry muscle. She set the teacup down on the stool beside her and picked up a brush. "I'm including your new injury." She announced, as she went to work, eyes darting from canvas to subject. "Your painting would be a lie if you didn't." He replied, careful not to shift in the process of speaking. Her newest project was unique among the colorful splashes of landscapes and still life paintings. There were no other images of people, no human subjects or other living creatures in her other creations. The irony, of course, was that her first live subject, was not really a "living" creature at all. Isikais wondered at the humor of it as he sat on the pedestal, far knee bent and raised on a low stool, and his other extended, foot on the floor, torso to the right, and face turned just so that he could see the painter out of the corner of his eye. Broad strokes followed by meticulously controlled ones, the scrape of brush hairs and metal tools on canvas. For nearly three hours she worked, desperately attempting to depict the life in her unliving subject. How like my work hers is. Maybe someday I will show her.

[Book__wyrm]

Conclusion

XP: 2 Persuasion I can't give you any morphing experience, since you only did a little bit.