A Picture Worth a Thousand Words

[Anouk]

33 Sumer 515AV,
Fountain of Cascading Harmony

Apparently, Anouk had competition. A rival artist was rumored to be sketching portraits of people at the Fountain of Cascading Harmony, which was a favourite haunt of Anouk's when she was struggling for inspiration. Intrigued by this piece of artistic gossip, the Konti hurried down as quickly as possible.

She didn't immediately spot the artist in question. The fountain was as busy as ever, with slow walking couples and reflective-looking individual all pottering about the impressive structure. But then she spotted a pair of giggling women standing before a man with a plain, if slightly stubbley, appearance. One of the women clutched a piece of parchment, holding it up next to her companion to compare the likeness between them.

Anouk marched over, arriving to the artist just as the two women were leaving. "Hello," she blustered, extending a hand towards the male and giving a breathy smile, "my name is Anouk." When he gave her no name, but did return her smile and shake her hand, she added, "I'm an artist, too." The Konti grimaced, suddenly feeling all awkward and self-conscious. Her comment about also being an artist had come across like a desperate child trying too hard to make friends. Attempting to make amends, she added, "I heard you're sketching portraits."

"Would you like one?" The artist gestured to the papers and charcoals that lay to one side. "They're three golds."

"Oh." For reason, she had expected more conversation to stem from their mutual skill and passion. Perhaps he was shy, but the kind smile on the male's lips made Anouk think that he did not necessarily lack confidence. Plus, shy artists did not place themselves in such a popular area and offer portraits. "Yes, yes of course."

He gestured for Anouk to sit on a chair, and once she did, he sat on one opposite. After shifting about his paper and charcoal, he began to sketch.

It was a strange sensation for her to be on this side of the canvas, so to speak. Other than being painted by her sisters, wherein there was obviously no awkwardness, Anouk had never been a model before. She suddenly wanted to move and switch her position. What did she normally do with her hands? She folded them neatly on her lap, then thought no, that's unnatural and let them hang to her side.

"I can tell you're an artist. You look uncomfortable as a model. All artists do."

She had not expected him to speak again, not since the briefest of all greetings he had given her. Anouk was somewhat taken aback, but tried to conceal this fact for the benefit of the unnamed artist. Nobody wanted to sketch a constant moving model. "No, I haven't. Is it that obvious?" She allowed herself the tiniest smile.

[Anouk]

"I'm the same, don't worry."

She allowed his comment to end their brief conversation. Anouk got the feeling that this artist was not the talkative type, until her. The Konti enjoyed socializing with her client, learning more about them. She felt it benefitted her as an artist, as she could integrate her clients' personality into their portraits.

His gestures were smooth and sweeping, suggesting to Anouk that he was a skilled artist. She hadn't seen him in the city before, though the male had such a plain face that Anouk expected he would just blend into a regular crowd. Still, she liked to think that she was familiar enough with Zeltiva's artistic scene to know most of her fellow artists.

"Have you lived in the city for long?"

"No, no. I arrived last season from Mura." Anouk replied, careful to keep her face as still as possible as she explained. "And you?"

He smiled briefly before giving yet another simple and non-committal answer, "no, not long."

Like getting blood out of a stone, Anouk thought with a secretive smile. Maybe he was going for that 'tortured artist' stereotype that some went for. Anouk wrinkled her nose at the thought. She painted because she loved art, not because she wanted to be mysterious or reflective or popular.

"What do you think of the city?"

All of his conversational topics were bland, consisting of nothing more than fluff speak that one saves for the most awkward of situations. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Anouk replied, "It's nice. I like it." She shrugged, not hugely sure of what else to say. She wouldn't have chosen to move to Zeltiva if she hadn't been sure she would like living there.

"And... You said you’re an artist?"

She nodded, "Yes. I sometimes paint near this fountain. I'm surprised I haven't seen you before."

His smile suggested to Anouk that there was a specific reason she hadn’t seen him before, but the Konti didn't push for an explanation. If he wanted to maintain an air of mystery, so be it. She was not one to break another person's reputation.

[Anouk]

There was no further conversation. After ten more chimes, the young man stopped sketching and revealed his drawing to Anouk. It was incredibly beautiful, and the artist had captured a reflective sadness in Anouk's face that she hadn't even known to be there.

Do I always look so... philosophical?

"It's beautiful, it really is." She gushed, clutching the sketch close to her face to inspect the smooth lines of charcoal that outlined her face, hair, and lips. "You're very talented."

"Thank you." He dipped his head in a tiny gesture of gratitude, then smiled and watched Anouk without saying a word.

Distracted, the Konti fished in her bag for three coins. After paying the artist, she noticed that something was missing from his sketch, "you haven't signed or dated it."

"No, I haven't." He slipped the coins into a pocket and once again smiled to Anouk, but did not share more details about this peculiar habit. She got the distinct idea that he was not the sort of artist that signed any of his pictures.

"Oh. Well, thank you very much."

She departed from the fountain and began to head back home. On her way, Anouk spotted the two women who had had their portraits sketched by the same artist before Anouk. They were sitting on a bench, one of the women staring down at her portait whilst her companion was--

Anouk frowned. It looked like the woman was trying to set her portrait on fire by holding it over a candle. The Konti came to a stop and watched, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Why would someone ever burn art? It was practically blasphemous! Even if someone hadn't appreciated his or her artistic likeness, it never condoned purposefully ruining someone else's creation.

The parchment caught alight and the woman dropped it onto the cobbled pavement. Within ticks, the entire page had been reduced to sad ashes.

She was unable to stop herself. Anouk marched over, coming to a stop beside the smoking pile of ash. "Can I ask why you burnt that young man's beautiful sketch?" She demanded, one hand on her hip and another waving her own portrait.

The two women stared up at her, but their eyes slowly moved in unison from the Konti's frown to the piece of parchment in her hand. They stared at it with wide, fearful eyes.

"You got one too?" One asked.

"You need to burn it, burn it with us!"

"Why would I ever do such a thing?" Anouk was appalled and she didn't make an effort to hide this opinion. "I'm an artist as well and it would break my heart if--"

"You don't understand. The sketches, they move!"

"They truly do! We didn't notice at first, but then this fellow who'd had one drawn earlier--" The women's voices tumbled over each other, filling Anouk's head with flashes of yellow and maroon. She struggled to keep up with their story.

"--he said that his picture moved--"

"and of course we didn't believe him at first--"

"But then my picture had suddenly changed."

"I was smiling in my drawing at first, but when I looked again, I was frowning--"

"...pouting my lips out. But then we looked again, for at least five chimes--"

"--ten chimes, but nothing happened."

"So then went to put them away, and suddenly they moved again!"

"It was terrifying! So we're burning them--"

"And you should too!"

She was at a loss. Anouk had never heard such silliness before from two grown women. She stared at them incredulous, her mouth opening and closing as she considered whether or not to even address their ridiculous hypothesis. No doubt the man who told them that his sketch had moved was just some prankster pulling the arms of two silly women.

Nobody could believe such a ridiculous story.

Shaking her head, Anouk turned on her heel and walked away. Quietly, she muttered to herself, "art does not move."

In her hand, the sketch of her likeness nodded in response.

ooc-3GM for 1 portrait