[The Surf and Turf] Canvas of Another Kind (Summer)

by **Aislyn Leavold** on September 15th, 2014, 8:33 pm

85th of Fall, 514 AV

The Surf and Turf.
What a wonderful name for a wonderful place. Though wonderful was most likely not the word for it. Interesting, perhaps, worked better. Yes, interesting was the word that sprang to mind when Aislyn walked through the doors of the Surf, after paying a small fee for the "Special entertainment" that had been described at the door. Though she wondered what this so called entertainment was, Aislyn knew she wasn't there for that. No, her motives were quite different indeed.

Earlier in the season, Aislyn had gotten word of a painting event of sorts going on at The Surf, where benefits went to some sort of Asylum. Immediately, the idea had piqued Aislyn's interest, as anything with the words 'Art' and 'Asylum' in the same sentence would. As soon as she had found the date of the event, Aislyn had been there, waiting patiently for her turn to go in, already disguised as her favourite illusion, Maya.

Of course, once inside, Aislyn found her way to a door where it seemed various other artists were entering. Most of the artists were women, which she found perculier, but proceeded nevertheless. Soon, an escort-of-sorts started up a conversation with "Maya", creating various smalltalk. How she had found the place, why she had decided to volunteer, what she thought it would be like. The last question had confused Aislyn; What was 'it'? Weren't they just painting? She very well knew what painting was like, and if her escort was also an artist, shouldn't she know as well?

Soon enough, the questions piled up, and it wasn't until Aislyn walked in the door to the private painting room that she immediately realized that this was not the painting event she had expected. No, for this particular event, the canvas was not paper, but women. All around the room stood painters dotting their work onto the bodies of woman standing patiently as their artists coloured anything from fish to flowers on their bodies. Beautiful paintings of all sorts, an interesting display of something that usually, Aislyn would love to see, but now that she knew what the canvases were, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to do this. Especially since almost all the women were nude.

Feeling her face begin to burn, Aislyn turned to her escort, meaning to question whether or not she was in the right place. She couldn't be; Could she? Aislyn had agreed to paint paper, not women...
Then again, Aislyn really hadn't agreed to anything. She had just jumped right in.

Opening her mouth to speak to the escort, Aislyn quickly closed it, finding her words dying in her throat. She quickly realized that the woman was expectantly staring at her, as if waiting for her to do something. It took several ticks until the truth finally dawned on her. Aislyn had not come into the building as an artist, but rather as a canvas. The woman was merely waiting for her to disrobe.
Aislyn had accidentally volunteered to be a human canvas.
Or, rather, Maya had.

Aislyn was met with absolute horror at the idea. Not because she was too prude, though that was definately a minor factor, but because if Aislyn were nude, it was so much easier to find faults in her illusion. If there were hands all over her, someone was bound to find some flaw in her disguise. The idea terrified her, but somehow, her feet still moved her farther into the room.

In hindsight, Aislyn probably could have gotten out of the situation with a bit of explanation, telling her escort that she hadn’t realized what she was expected to do, and that she was far objected to the idea of being painted in front of strangers nude, albeit anonamous. But no, some sliver of embarrassment at her mistake slowly took over her mind, convincing the rest of her that she was far too far into this mess now to untangle herself. After all… No one would recognize her, right? She would be covered in paint, there was no way someone would realize it was her? Or rather, her alias?
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Aislyn sucked in a deep breath and prepared herself for the worst, slowly beginning to peel off her clothes.

Soon enough, Aislyn, or rather, Maya, stood dressed in nothing but her undergarments. It was a strange feeling, being next to nude in front of strangers, especially while she had her illusions on. A sense of both terror and lightheartedness, though fear quite easily overweighed her excitement. What if the woman noticed the change in skin colour? The different shape in her jaw? Her illusions had been something she had worried about the entire time she had been undressing, but luckily, Aislyn had taken her time, putting her first precaution into place.

As she had been disrobing, Aislyn had subtly changed her skin colour back to it’s original, tone by tone. The change had been so slow no one would notice it, but it also meant Aislyn would not have to suddenly drop her illusion to allow the body paint to show through. With any luck, the artist would merely dismiss her change as a trick of the light. She didn't take her guard down all the way, however. Her gnosis mark was still covered well, along with the faint scars that lined her body. It gave her a headache remembering all the imperfections she had to cover, but she knew it was worth it.

Even after Aislyn stood in nothing but undergarments, the arist stared at her expectantly. Looking down at herself, Aislyn realized the woman wanted her to take off her undergarments as well. She quickly shook her head at that idea- Surely the woman could paint over her clothes? Aislyn would much rather her white underclothes forever stained than her dignity forever scarred.
Luckily, after several ticks, the artist gave in, beginning her paint job with swift brushstrokes of blue paint, weaving beautifully across Aislyn’s body.

In a way, the process was beautiful, delicate, but strong. She had to admit, the artist was skilled in her work, and as the chimes went by, the woman began creating the most beautiful pattern Aislyn had ever seen, taking shape all across her body. White wisps curving into gloves of various blue colours, painted on her hands from the elbows down. The woman hadn't even reached Aislyn's neck yet- Her chest remained unpainted- Yet even with only the arms done and a few lines on her stomach, Aislyn felt the masterpiece begin taking shape.
Perhaps the night wouldn’t turn out so horribly after all.

oocEdited to make the font more readable. 11/15/16

Body Paint :

Expenses :

by **Summer Dole** on September 16th, 2014, 12:04 am

There was always something to do in Alvadas. The people did not waste a day. Summer had enjoyed trying many things but this, this would not be one of them. If she thought back to how she landed herself in the Surf and Turf she couldn’t say.

Summer had started the day wandering. Actually, she had been searching for something to quell the munchies. As per the cities usual it had taken her every which way except the way she desired to go. It had not been uninteresting. Somehow or other she had been urged inside the Surf and Turf. She’d been told of entertainment. Summers mistake had been in assuming that food followed entertainment.

Rather than food the half-Zith found herself having paid to stare blankly at a bunch of nude women. The initial shock wore off and Summer was given a true sight. The women were a sea of color. Quiet chatter filled her ears, the strong smell of paint assaulted her nose. It was with little trepidation that she was informed she had just agreed to become another of the women. What was the worse that could happen? They couldn’t possibly make her look worse.

Her mind made up Summer had followed the painter to stand beside a young woman in her undergarments. Summer thought she should note this, but curious as to the painters words, pushed it to the side.

“That is my cousin. See what she is doing?” Summer nodded. Clearly unfinished yet resembling the ocean so strongly Summer could smell the salt. Or perhaps it was her memories from days on end on the boat. “We’re having a competition with some others to see who can make a realistic element.”

Abruptly there was silence as the painter assessed Summer. Summer stared right back, her back rigid until the painter spoke, “Fire for you, I’m sure. Are you ready?”

Summer nodded. There was silence while Summer stiffened more. After a minute she disrobed everything, even her undergarments, excluding her shirt. The painter laughed. She reached to help take off the shirt. Summer pulled back with a snarl.

“No!” Her voice came out softer than intended but the painter froze. She looked to the pale woman being painted beside her. “She's in clothes. I need my shirt.”

The painter sighed, “How about a wrap? I have some you can tie around, will that work? I can’t paint in that shirt.”

“Alright.” Summer acquiesced immediately. Again the painter tried to help, this time with the wrap. Again Summer pulled back.

“I’ll do it myself.” It took a few minutes to wrap herself with the shirt. Summer was careful to criss-cross it over her shoulders entirely. When she stripped her shirt, there was no hesitation. It brought a curious look from the painter but she said nothing. Summer watched intently when the painter knelt at her feet. It seemed intimate as the first splash of red colored her leg. But the painter ignored her, as if she were truly a piece of parchment to paint on. In the silence that followed there was only small murmurs and taps to adjust her for each stroke of the brush. Summer wondered if the painter would be disanointed when she finished with her. The thought annoyed her.

Summer turned sharply to face the woman being painted blue. She looked younger than Summer first thought. Closer to her age. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her body either. “Why didn’t you strip?”

“Stand still.”

Summer obeyed. Her gaze still firmly on blues. “Well?” She pressured with a tilt of her head. From below Summer heard a little sigh. The half-Zith paid it no heed, her eyes looking for a reaction of some sort.

Ledger-5GM for entry.

by **Aislyn Leavold** on September 17th, 2014, 12:36 am

It was actually quite peaceful having one's body painted, the smooth, extended brushstrokes leaving trails of ink over one's body. It was almost melodic. Soothing.
That is, when people aren't screaming two feet away.
"No!"

A few meters away from Aislyn, a woman just a bit older than Aislyn herself stood, the artist working to paint her skin kneeling at her feet and brushing them bright shades of red. The painted seemed exhausted with the woman's attitude, and upon closer examination of the scene, Aislyn could see why. The woman had all but stripped down nude, but now that the artist wanted to work on her chest, refused to take off her shirt.
"She's in clothes! I need my shirt!"
Immediately Aislyn began looking around, wondering who the strange woman was talking about, until she realized that the woman was pointing at her. Aislyn still had her undergarments on, along with a wrap of a shirt that was quickly becoming blue from the paint surrounding it.

The woman was drawing attention to herself by making a scene, and had just thrown all that attention right onto Aislyn's head. Several pairs of eyes came to rest on Aislyn and her artist, who was still laying intricate swirls of colour over her stomach. The artist paid no heed to the increased attention, but Aislyn wished she could dissolve into a puddle of white and blue paint on the floor.
Eventually, the woman's painter allowed the woman to keep a shread of cloth covering her chest, but as she switched out her shirt for the wrap, Aislyn noticed something perculiar. The woman didn't appear to be hiding her chest, but rather, her back. Something about the way the cloth fell on her back nagged at Aislyn, but she chose not to investigate closer for now. After all, the woman- along with the rest of the room- appeared to have forgotten about Aislyn for now.

"Why didn't you strip?"

Or maybe they hadn't.
Aislyn heard the grumbles of the woman's artist almost before she processed what the woman had said. Why didn't she strip? What kind of question was that?
Aislyn had to admit, the woman said what was on her mind whenever it came to mind. She was incredibly, almost painfully, blunt.
"I just didn't. I'm just... Not fond of the idea of being nude in front of strangers. Especially this many..."

As Aislyn's spoke, her eyes kept drifting to the woman's shoulders, wondering what she was so protective of keeping secret. With the way she was facing, however, slightly angled so her back was out of view, Aislyn couldn't tell. What she could tell, however, was that her answer hadn't satisfied the woman. With a tilt of the head, she silently inquired more. Shaking her head (which gained a grunt of annoyance from her artist) Aislyn turned the question towards the mystery woman.
"I could ask the same of you. Why did you only.. ah... Go halfway?"

Midway through her sentence, Aislyn suddenly regained the mindset that she was standing in a room full of naked woman asking one of such woman why they didn't strip. She didn't know how said specific woman did it, being so blunt. Rude, almost, but with the way she said it, it didn't seem so. No, not rude, just brutally honest.

By now, Aislyn was practically grasping at straws, trying to keep the attention off of herself. Curiosity fueled most of her questions, but the desire to keep the woman preoccupied helped her words along.
"What's your name, anyways?"

by **Summer Dole** on September 18th, 2014, 6:57 pm

“They won’t remember because you’re covered in paint. And you’re pretty.” Summer pointed out. There was an element of jealousy mixed that Summer refused to acknowledge. It wasn’t as if knowing that would make the statement less true. The blue woman pointed it out, almost in retaliation, that Summer was the same. Even as it was said she had been uncomfortably aware of her coverings. Covering meant there were things to hide. It made it obvious. As was pointed out by the constant straying of her eyes to Summers shoulders. Summer wondered which of the lesser two evils she could explain but neither was likely to garner any sympathy. The half-Zith resolved that it was no ones business.

“Because. So stop looking.” Summer snapped with finality. She was mindful of the hypocrisy in the conversation and so stayed silent after. It was a good an answer as any. The not answer had dropped the conversation and thus drew her eyes down. From the waist down she was entirely red. Swirls of it sneaked up her legs, exploded from her stomach outwards and rested just beneath her breasts. It made her highly aware that her back was next. At least, she thought it was but the painter arrived in front of her. The cool tip of the brush swept up her half-clothed breast and neck. “Face front, and for the love of Ionu, keep still! If you move your face—”

“Dole.” Summer answered belatedly. “My name is Dole. What’s yours?”

The painter cursed something fowl and brushed a strip up Summers arm. “I’ll do your arms first.”

Summer managed a twitch of her lips at the painter who rolled her eyes. The half-Zith was pleased it would take longer before any questions started. She wiggled her fingers just because. She was rewarded with a sharp pinch on her arm that stilled her. Her attention moved to the rest of the room. More than just colors now there were creatures, landscapes, entirely new people that stood in the room. As her body was closed to being done Summer wondered what was next. Would they wash off? That would be a waste after all the work. She had the inkling she had forgotten to ask something again. Summer was going to ask the painter but the painter was behind her now.

She tensed, a little growl escaped. There was a soft sound beside her right ear. Summer had been a second from leaving but the painter adjusted the wrap and wisely said nothing. Summer was unable to move. She would not be afraid of what the painter thought. Who cared what she thought? If she knew what Summer was she'd think she was some beast.

"What do we do when the paint is finished?" Summer addressed the blue-woman. She couldn't handle addressing the painter until she moved. As it was Summer thought it was the stillest she had been throughout the process. Her head even faced the front much to her annoyance at not being able to properly face someone to speak.

by **Aislyn Leavold** on September 20th, 2014, 10:52 pm

Pretty?
The thought had never crossed her mind. Aislyn, pretty? There was no way. Her features were too angular, her hair too thick, her skin too rough. Pretty was not the word to describe it.
But then again, Aislyn wasn’t who the woman was describing.

That explained it. The woman hadn’t complemented Aislyn, no, but complemented her illusion. Maya. Maya was pretty. Light hair, soft face, perfect skin and blue eyes. That was pretty. Monsters weren’t pretty. Aislyn wasn’t pretty.
She thanked the woman, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face as her painter worked on her feet. Her voice came out much quieter than expected, and had a tone of sadness to it.

The woman continued on anyways. She seemed quite conscious of her back, answering Aislyn’s questions about it with sharp, clipped words. She didn’t appear to appreciate Aislyn staring, either. In a room full of nude woman, this one was mad at her for staring at the one part of her body that was covered. It was almost comical.

After several ticks of silence and several hisses from the woman’s artist, Aislyn heard the woman answer her earlier question. Dole. What a strange name. Then again, Aislyn didn’t have the right to talk- What kind of name was Lyn, anyways? She had never asked her mother about why she was named the way she was, nor had she ever wondered. Your name was not something you often thought about, it was just something that was constant, a fact. It did not change.

Silence fell on the two woman as their artists both brushed stroke after stroke of paint onto their bodies. Aislyn’s legs, arms and chest were now partially covered in swirls of blue, while the painter who created the scene put dabs of white onto her feet. Her shoulders were covered in the same shade. The canvas that Aislyn had become was quickly becoming a painting, though she didn’t yet know of what. A lake, perhaps? Or the ocean? Whatever it was, it was most definitely blue.

As the woman drew her brush up Aislyn’s side, she felt the brush paint over the invisible scars that decorated her side. It entertained her, knowing that the imperfections were there, despite no one being able to see it. Not only because it was disguised by her illusion, but also because it was now covered in paint. Just that tiny illusion felt like a puzzle piece, slipping into place. It was those little satisfactions with her appearance that drove Aislyn on. Even the tiny ones- Her hair falling perfectly in place, even when, in reality, her hair wasn’t there air all. The illusions that helped perfect her persona, they made each day, each lie, just a little bit sweeter.

Lying always came naturally to her. Be it by chance or from practice, she never had trouble looking someone in the eye and telling anything but the truth. She hadn’t met a person she couldn’t lie to. Not yet at least.
”My names’ Maya.” The words came so smoothly, naturally. Once upon a time, Aislyn would catch herself at the last moment speaking the wrong name with the wrong face on, but not anymore. Now, it was easy.

Turning her attention back to Dole, Aislyn pondered her name. Dole didn’t sound like a woman’s name, though she supposed anything could be a name, really. If a parent were mean enough, their child could have the name of anything in the world. Still, it made her wonder. But it would be strange asking someone where their name came from, right out of the blue. So, for now, Aislyn satisfied her curiosity with smaller questions.
Home was always a good place to start, right?

”So… Where do you live? Not location or anything, just… Do you live in the city?”

by **Summer Dole** on September 23rd, 2014, 8:05 pm

Her question breezed over but Summer didn’t mind. It was a conversation that wasn’t cursing her. Better than nothing, she supposed. No one seemed worried about where they were going, so Summer would ignore it. For now.

She felt her other arm being lifted and goosebumps rose with the chilled paint. Summer wondered what would happen if the sun hit it. Would it melt off like water? Drip off like candlewax? The half-Zith stared hard at her red hand with no desire to stay red forever. Although…it would be a good cover. Summer drew her mind away from her stray thoughts, her eyes returned to search for Mayas’.

“Maya? I probably won’t remember it.” Summer noted out loud to herself. She was startled by the questions. Her back stiffened again. Why would someone want to know if she lived there?

Summer searched Mayas’ face. She didn’t know her…did she? The half-Zith leaned forward, heard the faint curse as she tugged her arm and looked more carefully. There was something. Perhaps it was the way she stood or that she looked like someone Summer knew or Summer thought she looked like someone else. It was probably that. After all, she wasn’t the only person on the trip to Alvadas from Syliras. Slowly, very slowly, Summer straightened herself again and finally answered. “I don’t live anywhere.”

It came out more petulant than she intended, laced with all her frustration at each disappointment. Laced with the knowledge that this city, however well it hid its dislike, would reject her as well. A sigh slipped through her lips and Summer switched the conversation back to a more comfortable topic. Maya.

“Why did you want to know?” Summer asked. She had continued to stare at Maya but her mind was elsewhere. Suspicion had wormed its way into her mind. What if Maya was from Syliras? If she had followed Summer there…not that there was a reason too. Then she had to be from Sunberth. It was another improbability, in Sunberth fewer people had known her and she wouldn’t stare so at Summers shoulders if she was from that city. “And do you live here?”

In the brief silence after her sharp questions Summer let her head be turned. The painters hands were cool and clean for someone who was playing with paint. There was a look of exasperation but contentment on her face. It was then Summer realized that they were almost finished. Her eyes flew down to her red body. It was impossible for Summer to truly appreciate the work. While gorgeous from her angle the only picture visible were the shades of red that layered her skin.

“For the love Ionu, do not move.”

The half-Zith took that moment to move her head. A soft pop resounded when she did. It hadn’t hurt but both paint and Summer looked surprised. The sound set off the feeling of soreness from standing so still (well, as still as Summer could be) and the painter relented. “At least don’t talk too much and keep your eyes shut!”

Summer gave her a soft yes then addressed Maya, curiosity lacing her words as a bit of her early suspicion was waylaid. “Why are you being painted?”

by **Aislyn Leavold** on October 18th, 2014, 6:05 pm

The woman’s answer puzzled Aislyn.
Really, everything about the woman puzzled Aislyn.
Anything from her strange body expressions to her confusing way of answering questions. And something about those eyes. A familiarity Aislyn just couldn’t place.

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, Aislyn took a few seconds to think before answering Dole’s questions. It seemed that each of the women were equally suspicious of each other.
”Hey, you started this conversation…” Aislyn paused in her answer to lift her chin up for her artist to paint. ”...I just continued it.”

She knew her answers wouldn’t satisfy the woman, but Aislyn left the topic at that. It was a sort of answer, really. She had just been making smalltalk- Lyn couldn’t really care less where Dole lived- but her plan seemed to have worked. There was definitely a conversation now.
”Yes, I live around here. Alvadas… Born and raised.”
Technically it was true. Aislyn really didn’t know whether or not she was born in Alvadas. She was relying entirely on what her mother had told her as a child, and for all Lyn knew, they were just stories. Meant to make her feel better.

Aislyn made an effort to keep her face blank, eyes facing the ceiling as wet paint was brushed across her neck, but with a thousand thoughts running across her mind, the task was quite difficult. Thoughts about her mother, about Dole, about the painting she was becoming. About how in the hai she was going to wash all of the paint off.
Taking a wistful look over at the slumped pile that her clothes lay in, Aislyn was met with an angry sigh from her artist. The sound alone almost forced her to snap her head back into position, despite her desperate want to look around.

Right before her chin was pushed back up into its original position by her artist, Aislyn caught a glimpse of a shiny blue stone, poking out from underneath some of the cloth of her shirt on the floor. Her locket was meant to be hidden under the clothes, but someone must have nudged it, as it now lay in full view of the room.
On top of her clothes, Aislyn had left her necklace, an old, rusted locket on a string of azure beads. She hadn't wanted to risk getting paint on the artifact, but her neck felt so empty without the decoration. Maybe she would be able to put it back on when the paint dried. The locket was half-hidden by Aislyn's shirt, but the woman could see that the clasp had popped open, the picture of her mother half visible. Surprisingly, the sight didn't bring as much panic as it usually did. Reason outweighed her fear, for the first time in a while.

Absorbed in her thoughts, Aislyn barely registered the sound of her artist’s voice, who, it seemed, had repeated something several times in frustration. Something about eyes. For a few ticks, the woman merely blinked in confusion, before finally registering what the artist had said. Close your eyes. She wanted to paint Aislyn’s eyelids, or at very least the area surrounding it.
After several moments of uneasy hesitation, she complied, willingly blinding herself as her artist drew brushstroke after brushstroke onto her face. She stayed as still as possible, while still carrying on her conversation with Dole.
”So… How did you end up here? And do you know what’ll happen after the painting is finished?”

by **Yisanareysin** on November 16th, 2016, 5:53 am

The ssssssnake hassss your gradesssss...

Aislyn

Skills

Lores

Comments
It is pretty weird to see the change in characterization over the years.

Summer, if you ever come back just PM me for your grade.

Don't forget to delete your post in the grading queue, and if you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me about your grade!

PM to join [The Surf and Turf] Canvas of Another Kind (Summer)