A True Work of Art. (Open)

[Rafaelle]

30th Day of Summer, 511 AV

It was a fine noon and a perfect day to seek new opportunities. The market was still bustling with all kinds of colourful crowd of every race that Rafaelle had ever read about as well as creatures that he had never heard of before at all. Having ensconced himself against the wall, the rogue watched them all pass with genuine interest, avoiding eye contact just in case. He was new here, and did not know the customs of every race... not even his own. But eye contact was a sign of threat and challenge among most animals out in the wilds. Better be safe than sorry in this particular zoo.

The man strove to look best for it was a grand day, indeed. Not too long ago, he came to this city in search of fortune and he had already started working on it. He sported the same haircut as always, with bangs sticking out in the front and the rest tamed with a ponytail on his back. But today, he actually combed himself. On his chin and cheeks, there was not a sign of a stubble. Actually, he could barely grow it due to an accident, and the growth only sprawled densely on one side of his face which he shaved as soon as it began to show which could take up to weeks.

He leaned against the wall for hours though, and it began to turn dull. Nobody seemed to approach. He looked next to him where his masterpiece lied. It was a painting put on display on a three-legged wooden easel.

The description below read: "Assassin Clans Battling in the Dark" and that is exactly what the picture portrayed. Only Gods know the immense effort and detail Rafaelle put into this piece of art. But unfortunately, staying true to realism, it had to be veiled with shadow for the human eye could not perceive in utter darkness.

In a nutshell, it was just a piece of canvas painted completely black.


Rafaelle was well aware that authorities seldom tolerated his 'business' because he never truly bothered to acquire their sanction. It was a senseless waste of time and investments. But this city was different. Even if the authorities, if there even were any in this place, requested Rafaelle's arrest or cease and desist, he could surely escape without much effort. That was the beauty of Alvadas. With bad luck he could be easily caught as well, but the rogue divested himself of the unpleasant thought.

Gradually becoming lethargic of boredom, his eyes traveled down to meet eye to eye with his own image in a fresh puddle.

"Who's the handsome devil? You-" The water was splattered with a heavy boot of a man who hastily stormed past. The mirror image was, of course, distorted with reverberating ripples upon the glinting surface. Silently vowing the downfall of the simpleton, Rafaelle swirled his back with squinted eyes.

[Seidaku]

On the way back from the Bizarre with a small satchel of food stuffs tucked under his arm, Seidaku was pretty sure that Alvadas had taken him on a wrong turn. He could not be sure, because the streets had been different every time, but he was fairly confident that this was the third time he had passed this particular series of buildings arranged in a row.

This time however, there was something different. It had been difficult to put his finger on it, but he realized that the one new fixture that differentiated this pass from the previous two was a rather dapper looking fellow lounging against the wall beside a matte black canvas.

Even in a city such as Alvadas, that bore a second look.

Stopped now, only a few feet away from what he realized now was a painting, Seidaku clutched his satchel tight to his side and not to obstruct the flow of traffic, light as it was here. A quick glance at the small placard at the bottom of the painting brought the quirk of a smile to his lips.

"Your use of black is, umm, excellent," he finally said to the man behind the painting, the artist he assumed, "Pardon my asking, but does it, ah, do anything?"

[Rafaelle]

Rafaelle's gaze had finally caught Seidaku's approach. Ah, a customer! he thought. Or at least someone to converse with to relieve the tedium before he smashes a window with the said painting and goes on a robbing spree. And then leave the painting there as a signature. That would certainly make him famous one day. Roses, gloves and initial letters on a piece of parchment were just too cliche.

The 'artist' pushed himself off the comfortable position and greeted the potential buyer with an benevolent smile. "Good day, Sir. As you can see..." The rogue gestured to the painting with a sweep of his hand and a dart of his gray eyes. "Nothing can be perceived upon the canvas at this very moment. This is because But I will let you on a secret..." He beckoned Seidaku closer with a finger, making sure nobody was eavesdropping in their immidiate vicinity.

The rogue lowered his voice dramatically, only audible to the other. "When you look at it in complete darkness, all the detail will unravel before your very eyes. You just have to stare long enough and have patience. It is such a shame so few value patience these days, don't you think? And art is a passion that requires this virtuous trait.."

That was Rafaelle's disingenuous answer. Of course, even if he spoke the truth and the painting did indeed reveal all of its splendor, one wouldn't be able to discern the said detail in complete darkness anyway.

Rafaelle tracked a few other bypassers in the backround for the briefest of moments and then devoted his attention to Seidaku again.

[Seidaku]

Seidaku cocked his head to the side and scrutinized the painting as he listened to the artist's - he looked to the placard for a name and was disappointed - description of his work. With a wide grin, he leaned in and listened to the man tell of the painting's more unique characteristics.

Taking special care not to give even the insinuation of touching the painting, Seidaku pressed his satchel to his side with his elbow and cupped his hands around his eyes, leaning toward the painting in the hope of making out some detail of what the artist had offered. Shifting position slightly to block more of the sun's light, he thought that, if he squinted just right, he could make out... No, it was just a trick of the lighting.

With a disappointed sigh, he stood back upright and asked, "Wouldn't it, umm, make a more, umm, impressive showing if it were, ah, indoors? Or possibly ensconsed within a draping? It sound like an, ah, an amazing piece."

[Rafaelle]

The painter squinted his eyes, pretending its the bright light rather than the numb pain. His back felt stiff still. Many details escaped him of why it was so. In fact, so many details that all he could remember after finally having arrived at the city of splendors is that he fell asleep on the street and consequently the muscles of his back got nearly cramped from the cold stone floor.

"Of course, my lord. That would have been the most satisfactory arrangement, to have my work published in a rich gallery. Alas, I have but arrived here and my name is not yet known amongst the many fleeting streets of Alvadas. I do not own a house to accommodate my pieces of art nor have I managed to locate one. By circumstance, I feel behoved to show the people of this here fine city that I am indeed a master of what I do. Perhaps the picture that you perceive here is not the best to be put on display as a showcase of my skill but it is only now that I realise that few can truly comprehend the true essence of art."

He feigned a wistful sigh, and carried on. "The simple people require something more... tangible, I understand that. Something they can touch or see in all clarity, unobstructed by ambiguous motives of the artist. They are not ready for something as deep and thought-provoking as this. And I am hoping to convince them at a later date. Slowly prepare and expand their ripe minds for true art. Alas, I have little support left to continue my work. Canvas and paint does not come cheap, as you may well know..." The artist shrugged, and flicked a longing glance towards his masterpiece.

[Seidaku]

"Oh, umm, I'm, ah, sorry," Seidaku said, ducking his head in embarassment as he realized that he had drawn attention to the fact that this artist was, figuratively and quite possibly literally, starving, "Of course."

"You might be, ah, surprised, though," he said with a smile, "The people of Alvadas are very, umm, artistic minded. You, umm, you have to be, to last long. I think creativity helps to, ah, cope with the way the city changes."

"Even if it did nothing else," he gestured in the direction of the painting, "The use of black is, umm, very good. The, ah, brush strokes that you, uh, can see hint at shadow instead of, umm, paint. Have you begun looking for a, ah, a patron, yet?"

[Rafaelle]

This man actually liked the picture? Rafaelle flicked a subtle suspicious stare at Seidaku and then at his own work. Ah, but the strokes of his graceful brush were indeed magnificent! They were so deceptively well delineated that they left the impression of a completely arbitrary and careless painting instead. It was a pinnacle of mastery.

"Why, thank you, sir. Those words mean much to me. And what kind of a person is a patron, exactly? Like a sponsor of sorts?" The artist scrutinized the slightly shorter male, wondering how such a humble creature managed to survive within the walls of Alvadas. Perhaps behind that coy facade lied something much more... sinister. And that is something Rafaelle wanted to find out.

"So, tell me. What is it that you do, my good man? It is hard to tell by mere looks of yours. Quite inconspicuous if I may say so..." The gray gaze roved over Seidaku once more and stopped to look the other in the eye again.

[Seidaku]

"Oh, umm, yes. That is exactly it. Someone to support you in your, ah, artistic endeavors," Seidaku said. He felt a moment of confusion that the artist would not know the term, but immediately passed it off as a cultural difference. The man had said that he was new to the city, and it made perfect sense that, where ever he had originally hailed from, they might have slightly different names for the same concepts. After all, language was a product of cultural identity, and separated as the cities of Mizahar were, the people of those foreign lands would have foreign concepts and identities.

He felt the artist's appraising gaze keenly. In comparison to the dapper artist, he felt even more threadbare and run down. "I am a, ah, a scholar and a student," he said, and the second was more an exaggeration than an outright lie. He was a student with no formal teacher, learning what he could in fits and starts. Academic scraps, for all intents and purposes.

Seidaku narrowed his eyes in confusion. Inconspicuous? It was certainly an interesting way of stating flat out that his appearance was bland and uninteresting. He forced a polite smile despite the apparent rudeness, though, "Not all of us can, umm, carry the tools of our trade with us, Master...?"

[Caedeserus]

Ghosts need nothing like those who are living, a boon to them if there ever was one. But here today the Caedeserus found himself on his way to the Bizarre where everyone buys and sells their goods. Its not to say the ghost wanted anything, it was just fun to see the things there. They range from the magnificent to the normal, or the strange to the truly Bizarre. But he didn't even need to reach his destination until he found something of the latter displayed in the streets.

The form of a man in ragged and tattered went up to the painting to inspect it. Pointing at the words in display he repeated as he read aloud "Ass-as-sin Cl-ans Bat-tling in the Dark?" Smashing his fist into his hand in realization of what the black canvas meant, the ghost laughed a little eerily. This was one of the few jokes he found amusing during his whole afterlife. A really long time in any of the living creatures of Mizahar's standards.

There was an odd pair talking at the canvas. One of them had to be the painter of this "masterpiece" so Caedeserus would just talk to the both of them to see which one would admit it. "Did you see this vasat? You got the blackness right, no Daeq for me to see. Assassins, they leave no witnesses. Why do you live?"

[Rafaelle]

"Rafaelle is my name. It is an honour to meet you. Did not expect somebody of your backround to approach me. And you are... ?" The rogue smiled with no ulterior intent evident. It was a friendly smile, and he extended his calloused hand to Seidaku for a vigorous shake.

"About the patron. Unfortunately, I have yet to find a person whom I could trust in Alvadas with such delicate business, you see. Now that you mention it I should start looking for one however..." The young man's voice seemed to trail away, sounding more and more distracted as he finished with an almost whispering note.

The old man that approached the painting in his poor clothing appeared curious of whether Rafaelle was actually there? The way it spoke puzzled the artist but that is what he figured it said. Not letting the moment of bewilderment create an awkward silence, he came up with the answer.

"Have I actually painted this from my own memories? Perhaps. You see, I cannot delve you into further details... lest I risk exposing myself to the assassins. These resourceful men you see here on each side are very cruel in their ways should they find out I was watching them this whole time." Rafaelle indicated at two spots on the painting with his hand as though he saw something other than just black paint.