PM to join [Fountain of Cascading Harmony] An Artist's Musings

[Lenalia Sabriel]

30th Day of Winter, 512 AV Even in the cold, the Fountain of Cascading Harmony drew in a large crowd. People surrounded the fountain on all sides, praying, tossing coins, paying their respects, or simply admiring the art. There was a lot to admire. The stone figures of Laviku and Tanroa stood despite the cold, weathered only slightly by their age, the constant rush of water coming from the fountain mimicking the rushing of the sea not too far from here. A young girl sat alone on a bench directly opposite from the fountain, mostly ignored. She was dressed in a deep blue dress of average make, the dress the same color as her eyes. A fur cloak was draped over her shoulders, and her legs were crossed underneath her skirt, revealing good quality but well-worn leather boots. Her long blond hair was tied in a plait and slung over one shoulder, a ribbon the same color as her dress keeping the braid from falling apart. She was small for her age, fine-boned and with slender fingers, her wide blue eyes focused on the sketchbook open in her lap. Despite the cold, she wasn't wearing a glove on her right hand, her fingers gripping loosely onto a stick of charcoal. Black dust smudged the tips of her fingers as she drew, her eyes drifting back and forth from the fountain to the page. Her lips pursed in concentration. She almost didn't feel the cold. The Fountain began to take shape underneath her fingers. Lena worked furiously, throwing herself into her work. She drew a line for the base of the fountain, smudging it slightly with her thumb to give color to the streets. The girl moved her stick of charcoal over the page, beginning to etch in the figures of people milling about around the fountain, talking, chatting, praying, tossing coins, simply passing by. They were only suggestions of people at the moment. Crowd scenes weren't something Lena was particularly good at, but she hadn't even thought about not drawing them in. It would have felt strange, drawing the fountain with no people in front of it. After all, the people were some of the things she liked best about Zeltiva. They were, in a sense, its heart. Constant waves of people, drifting through the streets, ebbing and flowing like the sea. Like...the sea... Lena paused, staring down at her work. The crowd in front of the fountain was a collection of shapes, suggesting at people without really going into detail. A constant flow of people, at a fountain dedicated to Laviku...if she played with the sketches more, could she give that impression? She smudged some of the lines at the bottom of the page into swirls, giving the illusion of water. As people turned and left, she drew their afterimages, faint charcoal lines trailing smoke behind them, like figures rising up from a wave. She wished she could capture it. The spirit of Zeltiva. She frowned, nearly messing up one of her lines as she thought about the latest word she had gotten from home. They were worried about her, and thinking of bringing her back. It would take time for word to get back to them about the current situation in Zeltiva and the new cases of sickness. She had this season. Maybe more. She wasn't willing to let it go just yet, to pack it up and go home. Not when she was starting to find what set her apart.

[Besnik]

Besnik ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Besnik would still easily be considered new within the city by the sea, the ever busy streets of homes and shops alike that made up Zeltiva. He had arrived on the first day of Winter, not particularly intending to end up in Zeltiva but more looking for a city to find some fun in. He hadn’t expected to stay long, let alone plan on permanently settling down. Then again plans change, and somewhere in his heart the animal within him had been telling him to not think to the future as he arrived, to take each day as they came and find as much fun as he could. He hadn’t expected to find his bondmate here of all places, but that was how it was. Since his stay in the city began to look more permanent, the Kelvic had decided that knowing his way around was important if he was going to be useful to Valo. That was the thinking that had set him out most mornings, rounding new corners and finding new scents that marked different streets on a subconscious map within his mind. He found himself drawn to the centre of the city this morning, eyes wide with a curious expression as he took in the sights. Ahead was a crowd of people, mulling around but all seemingly headed to or from the same spot. His head tilted to the side as he moved forward, strides as scampering movements much like a nervous fox moving across open land. As he drew closer, the dhole in human form saw a large feature rise before him, made fully out of stone with a flow of water cascading down the front. He was captured by the beauty, the swill of water that seemed to appear out of nowhere to any, like he, with no knowledge of how such features work. The fountain attracted a lot of people who drew the inquisitive creature’s attention. Deep brown eyes darted, observing and locking away tiny details to try and suss out later. He was still getting the hang on understanding human culture, their ways mostly completely foreign to him. Though he disliked it, he had been convinced to wear his loose fitting shirt and trousers when he left. They were of poor quality, with faded fabric, and obviously old, but they did their job of covering his skin. Besnik stood a little away from the fountain, not attracting as much attention as he would in other cities less used to bright hair colours. His hair, much like his fur, was almost red, containing hues of reds and browns that if one looked closely enough seemed to dance and flow together in an endless movement down his head and framing his face. The nape of his neck held the marker stopping the colour, dark black like the tip of his tail in his favoured form. He watched, an onlooker on the scene that for so many seemed to be private. Some threw their coins into the water, wasting their money for reasons the Kelvic’s mind had yet to fathom, whilst others caressed the stone in a loving way, as one would a close family member. His eyes were drawn to almost directly opposite himself, sat aside from the crowd and an onlooker like himself. She seemed young for a human, perhaps an older child, and was focused intently on the paper before her. Every so often she peeked up, taking in the scene, before returning to the pad. Besnik had watched Valo more than enough times by now to know that whatever so was doing held the name art, and though the tools seemed different the effect was probably similar. He couldn’t smell the strong fumes of oil that circled his bondmate’s cottage, and was curious to see how the stranger had interpreted the scene before her. To him it was a confusing mingle of people doing rituals he had no understanding of, but perhaps to her there was sense within the madness. Not one to shy away from encounters, the curious man with the gentle appearance headed over to the bench, his manner of movement almost skittish. Upon arrival he jumped up onto it, beside her, in a crouched position mimicking his canine relatives. Her arm obscured his view of the paper, so he instead looked to her. His deep brown eyes held only a childish curiosity with a playful layer beneath, as he looked at her with widened orbs, held cocked to the side. “Can I see?” he asked, voice as sweet as his appearance made it out to be, the small grin directed at her slightly off due to his elongated left fang sticking slightly over his lip in the way it always did, making him seem more like a puppy despite his human exterior. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ||Besnik|| ||3 years|| ||Kelvic|| ||Bondmate - Valo||

[Arianthe Swansong]

"The Golden Light of long lost days Hits the frozen gods with glistening rays The clear water becomes red, red wine Merciful beauty - this ever flowing shrine." Arianthe smiled lightly as she finished this verse, which she had jotted down on a whim, and stood up from her place leaning against the base of the fountain since the crowds were growing bigger - she wondered why... it was never usually this bad. An odd assortment of people were in the crowd, and she blended easily into them, dressed in an emerald green velvet skirt, pretty white silk blouse with an ivory corset over the top, little leather boots and a heavy black velvet cloak to her feet, keeping her from the cold. She took her book out and read through the little bits here and there which she had already written, largely inspired by the beauty of Zeltiva. "And then if the gods with smiling faces Descended upon this most mortal of places To deign to reward the pious throng Their stone faces could do no wrong." She wrote the second verse of the poem down without much conviction then proceeded to cross the words out. It just did not work. Instead, while waiting for inspiration, she looked around at the crowd about her - there were certainly some amusing subjects for her quill to fall on. Men, Women, screaming children and sleeping babies. In her role as observing the world rather than getting involved, Arianthe never had a shortage of scribbled rhymes about the people of Zeltiva, whether as a crowd or a single person which she remarked, generally for the smallest things... like a girl wearing only one glove in order to be able to draw better, which in itself was nothing but completed an interesting image.

[Valo]

Art was not a mere painting or a drawing. it was not a creation, it seemed. Art was, is and always will be a concept of the most inspiring sort. An ideology which seeds deep inside a man's heart and manifests it self by the use on one's hands. And if the man has no hands then he will use his feet or his mouth or any other means to liberate this art of his. For it is both a blessing and a curse... no, it's a creature capable of both good and evil, just like human beings. It can make a man, or render him confined within his own mind until he looses a grip on reality. Art is a powerful mistress, a beautiful woman. And therefore one can simply say that art is the soul of a person, splattered on a canvas like the blood of his mind. It has been so long since Valo had created art. He painted and did so every day and sold those paintings, glad to be rid of them. but not for a moment had he thought of any of them as art. They did not matter to him. Art however, did. He had leaned ever so casually to look upon the drawing of a young girl who sat on a bench by the fountain. People... people were art. And the very meticulous nature in which she portrayed them, allowing her creation to spark with movement and life. Life is art. The elaborate charcoal work, a clever use of smudging combined with a sharp monochromatic contrast of charcoal against paper. If it was him of course, he'd have layered this technique with light washes to suggest the existence of colour within the scene. Colour was art. But he thought it best not to intervene within the girl's creation and instead took a moment to analyse it thoroughly. The deep set green eyes of his absorbed every detail. "I must say you have quite the talent my lady." he spoke quietly, hoping not to startle her. The real reason he had strolled over towards the fountain on his way back home, is the simple reason of the familiar mop of hair which stood out from the crowd as much as his own did. It was Besnik the Dhole, whom he'd grown so fond of in the past weeks. And with a subtle crescent of a smile carved into his chiselled features, Valo proceeded to ruffle those elaborately woven locks of red and coppers and browns. For is Besnik was a paintings, his hair would be a stippled mess, painted with a hard fibred brush. He didn't hide it however, the girl did spark his interest for her skill in drawing far exceeded his own. He had ventured out of his home dressed in a starched black shirt, inly the thin rim of the cuffs of which peeked out from his tailored, grey wool jacket. One that accented his fine posture. His wool pants were also grey, though darker than the jacket and the boots upon his feet were made of shined leather. His genuine attire and the way he had carried him self were utmost formal if not a little plane, for he did not need to dress to stand out, his luxurious hair did the work for him. Long locks, now tied in a tail at the nape of his neck, that reached all the way to his hips. The hair that seemed the colour of fire it self. The hair cast upon him by Inarta blood, now framed his ivory face that was handsome to say the least. From the corner of his eye the shape of Arianthe Swansong came into view. Her manner so serene, scribbling within her notebook again, perhaps some elaborate poetry. The Fountain of Cascading harmony seemed to bring inspiration to everyone but him. This time however Valo decided to wait just a moment longer to acknowledge her presence, for if he did no such thing he'd most likely later regret it. Knowing however, that she was not the kind of woman to acknowledge him first,he merely pretended to not have noticed her yet. Avoiding looking in her direction,he merely focused on the two lovely souls before him.

[Lenalia Sabriel]

Lena drew, oblivious to the people gathering around her. For a moment, she was completely absorbed in her work, in the magic of creating. For a moment, she wasn't thinking about her siblings in Syliras, or the sickness in Zeltiva, or the rats. She wasn't thinking about her magic lessons, about the pile of books in her room that needed to be read within the week, about the end of the season a scant 62 days away, and a final project she still hadn't begun planning. She didn't even think about belonging. For a moment, there was only her, and her art, and Zeltiva, and that was enough. But the moment passed, as all moments do, and Lena's hand stilled, her breath misting in front of her like white smoke as she looked up at the sound of a stranger's voice. It was only then that she realized she was being watched. The young girl put a smile on her face as she turned towards the redheaded man crouched in front of her. He had a gentle face, and curious eyes. She wondered if it might be uncomfortable for him to sit like that...almost like a dog, or some other canine. He reminded her of a stray she had seen once, although she chided herself for such an impolite thought. Lena obligingly tilted her book towards him, carefully lowering her charcoal to her side so as not to smear it against her dress or the rest of the page. "Careful," she said. "It's not quite finished yet. It needs to be sealed, or it will smear." She looked up at the sound of a quiet voice from over her shoulder, raising her eyes towards its source. Had she missed the fact that so many people were surrounding her? That wouldn't do. Her brother would scold her for being careless if he knew. But it was still the middle of the day, and this portion of Zeltiva was more or less safe. The man in front of her was striking. An angular jawline, slender, almost feminine features, and dark, deep set green eyes, framed by startlingly vibrant red hair. She had never seen a man wear hair that long before. He carried himself in a way that was familiar to her, with a formal, reserved air around him. He would have made a beautiful sketch, she thought, if she wasn't already working on another project. The somewhat embarrassing thought, and the compliment he had paid her, brought a slight dusting of pink to her cheeks. She lowered her eyes back to her page. "Thank you, sir," she said, her lips quirking up in a small smile. "I'm still learning, I'm afraid. It doesn't do the subject justice."

[Besnik]

Besnik ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Besnik looked into the kind face of the girl, whom he had decided couldn’t be older than a teenager, as her eyes turned to him rather than the obscured drawing. She looked friendly and judging by the way she didn’t scold him for being too close or shoo him away for disturbing her, he automatically liked her. Were he is his other form, his tail would have begun to wave in a slow wag to show his happiness that she hadn’t rejected his presence. Deep brown eyes flickered down as her arm shifted, bringing the drawing tool down as she leant her work closer to him. The man studied the picture before him with immense concentration. His sharpened eyes took in each contour and wipe of the strange material. It was unlike pencil, or paint, yet seemed to be used in the same way. He would have to ask Valo about it later, if he didn’t manage to fit it into his conversation now. He noticed how the heavy darkness outlined shadowed areas, whilst lighter marks that barely seemed to change the paper gave a life like feel to the image. Faceless people mingled in front of the beautiful fountain, and smudges around the edge of fading black seemed to bring the picture to life, almost as if an imprint of those walking by could be seen dancing on the white page. There was no colour to the image, something he noticed Valo never seemed to lack, yet the defining features were exaggerated by the stark contrast and suited the picture in a way his mind couldn’t piece together. The redhead took heed of her warning, careful not to touch the picture. He leant forwards and, were it not for his good balance, would have fallen either into her or off the bench. As it was, where he lacked the knowledge or desire to learn about the more complex topics of humans, he made up for in physical skills so long as he stayed true to his real form. The intense concentration, studying each detail on the fine page, was instantly broken by a familiar hand within his soft locks, ruffling up the many hues of red and brown in an affectionate way. The Kelvic was surprised he hadn’t heard footsteps, or smelt the honey coated in a paint exterior which was the man’s specific scent, such was his admiration of the art. The noise that came from the man could only be described as some sort of strange mix between a chirp and a purr, the result of a canine being limited by a human voice box. His head swivelled whilst the man spoke to the girl sat beside him, eyes searching for the face that accompanied the touch and scent, until the flow of red caught his eye. A bright smile lit up on the Kelvic’s face as he waited for the girl to reply, manners holding him back from attacking Valo with a hug. Her modest answer, though only a couple of short sentences seemed to take forever to leave her lips. Besnik waited impatiently, bobbing up and down slightly in excitement. As soon as she had finished answering Valo, Besnik’s own greeting came pouring out of his mouth like a river having just burst a dam. “Valo! I thought you were going to be out for much longer. I didn’t realise you were coming back this way! Hi!” Each sentence was punctuated by a massive grin until he reached the end of his excited greeting, face leaning sideways into the others hand even as it retreated from his hair. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ||Besnik|| ||3 years|| ||Kelvic|| ||Bondmate - Valo||

[Arianthe Swansong]

"The girl with one glove left the other at home, Upon the drawing room chimneypiece Among the people of Zeltiva she would roam Until she had found satisfaction and peace." Arianthe closed her book with a small smile then stood up, making the decision to greet Valo politely, as she had been brought up to do with acquaintances. Anyway, he was talking to the girl she had noted earlier, for her clothing more than anything else, and it could be the opportunity to meet new people. Arianthe was feeling in a particularly social mood today, quite contrary to how she usually was when faced with crowds for she was not much of a person to get involved in a conversation, rather observe and listen to the farce and amusement of such people. She moved closer, silently - as only she knew how, somehow managing to blend into the throng of people in a way which someone of her status and appearance usually wouldn't be able to. It was to do with never making eye contact, moving like a sharp stone cutting through water and her acting skills had given her consciousness of movement. She glided closer to the little group though from behind, leaning gently against a wall, almost like a shadow, unobserved, sneaking a peek at what the girl was drawing and listening in to the conversation. So what if it was none of her business? She'd never repeat it, and she'd probably get a good laugh out of their conversation, out of the ridiculous and frivolous nature of it. She also wondered how Valo conducted himself with other girls he'd just met... maybe he'd offer her a 'night of lovemaking' after five minutes too, even without encouragement of anything resembling such a proposal.

[Valo]

The moment the girl finished talking, Besnik exploded in a frantic greeting, clearly excited to see his comrade. And perhaps Valo was excited too, for he could never get enough of the furry companion, but his manner showed no traces of such. Instead he was a closely composed silhouette of calmness with a pleasant smile on his face. "Yes Besnik and hello to you too." he replied, retreating his palm after just a moment more of this connection they shared. It seemed, in fact, that every time they met, there was a spark between them. An alien intimacy which did not normally occur between people. The kind of love only a Kelvic and their bond mate can share. Being a man of utmost elegance, the red haired man stepped gracefully around the bench to take place by his Kelvic's side and somehow it seemed that his admirable height was furthermore accented by Besnik's crouching position. "True artistic quality lies not in giving justice to the subject, but breathing into it a life of it's own. Beauty lies not in photorealism but in the sheer diversity of perception."he spoke softly, his gaze lowered onto the sketch in her hands. Gentle distance within his expression, before all his features lifted at once into a subtle smile and his green eyes rested on the girl's face. "But I digress. My name is Valo and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance my dear." he spoke, giving her a pleasant smile. The truth is, Valo wasn't at all a distant person. In fact he seemed to have a habit of getting close to people surprisingly easy and surprisingly fast. With exceptions of course, one being Arianthe Swansong. But if nothing else, he was definitely a conversationalist, having an opinion and knowledge about anything and everything. But his manner was elaborate and elegant and proper. A beautiful outside to mask the convoluted mess inside.

[Lenalia Sabriel]

Lena blinked in surprise at the sound that came out of the crouching man's mouth, although she retained enough composure to not show it. It wasn't a sound she had heard coming from another person before. In fact, it had sounded very...animal-like. Again, almost like a dog, or some other canine. And the way the man conducted himself, crouching, greeting his friend excitedly, letting his hair be touched, leaning closer to that hand...it was almost like he wasn't human at all. Like he was something else. The pieces clicked together in her head. Kelvic. He was Kelvic. She'd seen quite a few of the shapeshifters in Syliras, and again in Zeltiva. She didn't voice her suspicions out loud, just in case she was wrong, but she did offer Besnik a small smile of her own, before looking back at the other redheaded man. She had always been curious about these animals that walked in human form. But then again, it could be said that Lena had always been curious about a lot of things. Lena's smile widened somewhat at Valo's words, her eyes drifting to the sketch in her lap. "I wasn't talking about the fountain," she said softly. Her thumb hovered just over the sea of people--hovered, but did not touch. She wouldn't risk damaging the piece. Not when it wasn't done. "The people. Zeltiva. That's what I was trying to capture. And I don't think this piece says what I want it to say. Perhaps my perception still lacks in diversity." She spoke with an even tone, the tone of a young lady who had had manners and etiquette drilled into her since the day she was born. But as she spoke, her blue eyes seemed slightly far-off, her mind elsewhere, and as she spoke the last line, a faint gleam appeared in her eye, hinting at a sharpness of wit. The crowd in front of her continued to shift, ever-changing, ever-moving. She resisted the urge to pick up her charcoal and continue to draw. Years of lectures at her mother's side had taught her that when talking to people, one was expected to give one's full attention. It would be rude otherwise. And she actually wanted to continue this conversation. It was very rare that someone outside of her classes would talk to her like this about art. In the past, she had mostly been left alone to draw. Poor little Lena, youngest of four, sitting in the corner drawing pictures. "My name is Lenalia Sabriel," she said, raising her eyes to his. "Lena for short. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, and you too, Besnik," she said, with a smile and a nod at the suspected Kelvic. Lena held up her hand, displaying her charcoal stained fingers. "I'd shake your hand, but it would only get your gloves dirty," she said. "Are you an artist, sir? You spoke very well on the subject."

[Besnik]

Besnik ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ The Kelvic grinned at Valo’s composed response. Despite how close they’d recently become, the man was the same as he’d been the day they’d met; the perfect picture of manners and pleasantries. Brown eyes followed his companion as he sat down, remaining fixed as he spoke. As always with the subject of art, Valo spoke with a depth and understanding few could achieve. It was a quality that both confused Besnik and sparked admiration within him. The man was clearly more intelligent than the Kelvic, with a lot of knowledge to back him up, and to the canine’s ears the words he spoke were an intricate set of riddles that took a lot of time to unravel before he could make a response. The confusion this time was not in the first sentence, for he understood and agreed that art needn’t be exact to be good, but in the second. His head tilted to the side, trying to figure out what the other man had meant. Luckily it was the second artist that the words were addressed to this time, and judging by her response she understood what Valo had spoken of more than he. Besnik’s head swivelled quickly back around to the woman as she responded. Her manners were not unlike Valo’s, but he disagreed with her statement. To the Kelvic’s eyes the image before him captured the scene before the justly. Less experienced with art, let alone the subtle meanings put into it, he didn’t fully understand that sometimes the feel of a piece can change with slight adjustments; that it was a precise practise where each stroke of a brush or mark from a pencil could change the meaning of an entire piece. Not keen on getting more confused, the canine instead turned his attention to the crowd around the fountain. He was still curious as to why their behaviour seemed changed around it, for to his eyes it was nothing more than a few piles of stones stacked in a slightly different way to the stones in the rest of the city. Yes, the water that billowed out and down the stone in a never ending stream was enticing, but he still saw no reason for the reactions. Curious eyes narrowed slightly as his eyes danced between people approaching the stone, observing each individual routine. There was a pattern to the rituals, the way people would all seem to be paying their respects in individual ways, yet the reason for why they were doing so still evaded him. Hoping to pick up some clues, he scented the air a little, drawing in a few breaths through his nose to try and see whether there was a hidden meaning beneath the appearance. There were a variety of scents, both close and distant. Each person had their own unique print, and then other scents trailing around them in a representation of the people they had interacted with. It was a map of interactions that humans had difficult gaining access to. Of course in his canine form the scents would be much clearer, all his senses dulled by the human appearance, yet he was able to pick up enough to tell that nothing special was held in the smell of this area. It was much like every other crowded part of the city. One scent in particular did catch the dhole’s attention, for it was close and almost directly behind him. His eyes narrowed as he slowly turned his head, eyes darting around for the person the scent belonged to. They locked onto another woman, stood back a little with a book in her hands, observing them. His eyebrows drew together as a puzzled look crossed his face, not knowing why they had an onlooker. Perhaps she too was curious about what the artist was drawing. His attention was drawn away quickly as said artist spoke again, giving her name to the pair. “Lena,” Besnik spoke as his head turned back to face her, shifting his weight slightly due to the small strain the crouching position put on a human body, “It’s nice to meet you too. I think your drawing’s really good.” He sent her a smile, nodding as she excused herself from shaking hands. That was good, for the Kelvic wasn’t particularly keen on the very human greeting. He then listened for Valo’s response to her question, keeping quiet for a moment. His attention remained half on the man’s answer and half on the woman behind them, wondering whether or not she’d approach. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ||Besnik|| ||3 years|| ||Kelvic|| ||Bondmate - Valo||