Closed [The Quill's Rest] Charcoal and Paint

[Lenalia Sabriel]

33rd Day of Winter, 512 AV Even on a cold wintry day such as this, the Quill's Rest was warm and comfortable, flames crackling merrily in the hearth. Lena sat in one of the cafe's many quiet nooks, her sketchbook open in front of her and a piece of charcoal in her hand. She worked with calm, precise motions, drawing smooth black lines on the page before her. A cup of steamed kelp tea sat beside her, steam rising up from the water's surface. The taste was odd, different from the teas she had grown up with, but it was popular among university students, and over the months, it had begun to grow on her. The girl was dressed in black this time, a simple black dress with a high collar. She wore her white silk scarf around her neck, her blond hair pulled back in a slightly messy bun. The image that took shape beneath her fingers was one that had been oft talked about in Zeltiva in the past few days. Maria Satterthwaite, the Lord of Council, walking down the length of the Cerulean Pier arm in arm with a sailor. She had drawn the Lord, the pier and the sailor, and was now busy drawing the waves, tossed in the wind and crashing against the pier. As she drew, her feet idly tapped against the wooden floor, her heels occasionally knocking back against the seat behind her. The girl glanced up occasionally, scanning the room for a hint of red before returning to her drawing. She was supposed to meet someone here. Lena exhaled slowly, going back to drawing the sea. She tried not to make her restlessness obvious, and mostly succeeded. Outwardly, she was the picture of the dreamy artist, absorbed in her work. Inwardly, the drawing was simply an excuse to do something with her hands, and to occupy her mind. It had started a few days ago, when Lena had begun planning her final art project. She had wanted to do a painting, something that symbolized Zeltiva in the best way she knew how. Unfortunately, her painting skills weren't coming along as quickly as she would have liked, the use of colors in her work still being something that eluded her. And so she had written a painter. And gotten a response, leading into a conversation that had ended in the setting of a location, date, and time. Lena finished one of the last details of her piece, a dove from Priskil's Spire in the corner of the page, then continued to detail the ocean and finish the shading, waiting.

[Valo]

Even within the kindest of hearts there is resentment, greed, the nature of human condition that prevails over what a person thinks him self to be - and what the person truly is. Valo thought him self many things; charming, romantic and eloquent, charismatic and intelligent - but he never thought him self an acrimonious man. Until of course he met her. And drip by drip, ever since the moment he had met her, greed and jealously seeped into his soul; but never once would he admit those brief moments when he was truly resentful. This gentlemanly nature hinged upon his ability of careful composure and with that he could banish the majority of an malevolent feeling. But the very seed would always linger within his heart for that was human nature. She, a mere child had, all he ever dreamed of. The single greatest wish of his childhood. The wish for which he travelled five years, all the way from Wind Reach. A wish for which he sacrificed his life, his family and yet it slipped though his fingers at the euphoria of finally grasping it. Euphoria makes men blind. His mother was never a rich woman, despite being an Avora and the money which was destined to pay for his tuition fees, had been worked for relentlessly by his entire family. And where had it gone? Only death could ever relieve him from the eternal shame he had brought his loved ones, that's for sure. A torment which would never fall from his heart; whilst she had it all handed to her on a sliver platter. Or so he supposed, for judging by her clothing she was not from a poor family. And this very though was the seed of his resentment. However upon receiving a letter from her Valo's heart softened; or rather returned to it's natural emollient quality. Who was he to resent her for having something he wanted more than anything? it wasn't her fault that fate smiled on her. Then again his own childish foolishness was not her fault either. How hard it is sometimes to come to terms that one is a master of his destiny and cannot place blame on the gods for his own foolish deeds. Something the artist had not yet come to terms with. And so several days later they have agreed to meet in Quil's Rest for something vaguely resembling an art lesson. He had something to offer her, for perhaps one day she would return the favour. Valo slid silently into the bar, shutting the door behind him quickly as to not allow the frosty chill to disrupt the ambience of the interior. And soft swirls of warmth caressed his frost bitten cheeks. Those green eyes of his scanned the environment, quickly catching sight of the blonde girl, much younger than him. A perfect portrait of tranquillity. An artist, hunched over her work in blissful concentration, feet gently tapping the chair leg. She'd been drawing something again with a stick of charcoal, a material Valo was never quite fond of, but she seemed quite skilful with it. And so, with a polite smile, he strolled over to her current position and took his seat directly opposite, placing the bag of belongings by the leg of the chair. "Good afternoon miss Lenalia. Ah, I see you're working with your charcoal again. May I see?" spoke Valo merrily. His voice seemed to be almost completely void of his Nari accent now. Though perhaps the accentuation within the honey smooth quality of his voice seemed to wax and wane with the tides.