Flashback Adult Talk (Luciana)

[Lucillus Nitrozian]

33rd of Spring, 511 AV

"And what do you think of this one?" His father asked, barely audible behind his besmirched handkerchief. "The colours are very... stark, yes? The red is very indicative of... of Rhysol, yes, and blood. And the blacker parts resemble a lake, so you could say that this is Rhysol's glory falling down upon Lake Ravok. Don't you see it? Oooh, Pietri's work is sublime. Subtle, yes... very subtle. Many people don't understand his art, but you can find a few of his pieces in Yae's studio. Don't you remember me pointing them out to you in Yae's studio? I thought you remembered. They were right up near the front, beside the Valterrian piece that I remember you gawking at." The doddering fool might have continued to babble, had a sudden urge to cough not come over him and wrack his body with pain. Silvas doubled over onto his knees, face growing red and purple alternatively, hacking out his guts unpleasantly into the previously white and unstained handkerchief. When he was finally done, the man could barely breathe, but he still glanced up at his son and asked, "Well? What do you think?"

Luc glanced over to the piece. "It looks like he smeared his shyke all over the canvas."

"Shh!" Silvas hissed, glancing back and forth conspiratorially. "You don't insult Pietri's work when you're in his petching gallery!" The teen rolled his eyes, earning a smack across the brow from his trembling father. "Mind your manners and shut your mouth!" Though the outburst from his father was stern, Luc paid it no mind - he had heard the talk a dozen times before. And, really, it was unnecessary. There was little chance of Pietri - the "famed" artist that Silvas now sought a commissioned piece from - overhearing their conversation, separated as he was from the pair by at least two floors of wood and stone. When they had first arrived at the studio, Pietri had been quick to assure them that they could do business... after he had attended to another client first. To pass the time comfortably, the artist had invited them to inspect his gallery on the top floor of his home, an offer that Silvas had jumped at. "It'll just make me more excited about the result!" He had exclaimed, practically savouring at the thought of getting such an accomplished artisan in his pay.

The younger Nitrozian thought the gesture an insult. If Sitanos were here, asking about a possible commission, Pietri would have dropped any clients he had and scurried over like a dog. Does he think that he's in a position to just turn us away, as if we were just another nameless face in the crowd that was waving gold in his face? We are Nitrozians. We make Ravok the great city that it is. Luc knew exactly why his father, and by extension himself, weren't treated with the same respect that the other nobles in his family would have been offered. It's because we're in the laughingstock of the family. My father can't blurt one sentence out without falling onto his hands and knees and shaking like a leaf in the wind. Even before he came down with this stupid sickness, he was still considered the fool of the family... making me the son of a fool, and a mouse at that. Petching typical. One day, I'm going to come back here, and I'm going to make Pietri wait on me. See how long this precious studio survives when I try and take it from him.

To be honest, Luc didn't understand why his father had settled on Dumann Pietri as his artist of choice. It wasn't as if they were strapped for options; Silvas was still plenty wealthy, and Pietri wasn't even that cheap to obtain a commission from. Looking at the man's artwork, Luc couldn't make sense of most of it. It all looked like random lines to him, blurring together to create a confusing mess of a portrait. He didn't much care for art, seeing it as nothing more than a fancy ornament to hang on the wall and then promptly forget about. The most enjoyment I get from this kind of stuff is when I'm in another, chemical world and losing myself in the brush strokes. What I wouldn't give for a shot at the good shyke right now. Certainly, Luc didn't understand why, all of a sudden, Silvas had become so dead set on commissioning a portrait of his mother to hang outside their family quarters in the estate. "It will bring honour back to my wife," he had foolishly trumpeted, "and respect back to our names! They will think twice about laughing at me when they see my wife's beauty reflected in its purest form!" Idiot. The best thing for us to do is to distance ourselves, as far away as we possibly can, from your little mishap. Bad enough that I have to live in her embarrassing shadow.

Finally, Silvas seemed to tire of waiting. "I'll go and see if Pietri has time for us yet," he announced through a cough, waddling over to the staircase and heading down to the ground floor. This, blessedly, left Lucillus alone in the art gallery. Taking a deep breath, the teen found a sturdy, empty counter and leaned against it, reaching into his pocket for his pipe and a pinch of Cyphrian tobacco. The gallery was a long rectangular room with only a single window set at the far end of it, casting a thin sliver of light onto the assembled canvases and easels that sat in the darkness, waiting for a buyer. Lighting up the tobacco and taking a long puff from the end of his gifted pipe, Luc breathed out a stream of smoke that lingered lazily in the air before being whisked out the open window. Sighing, the teen reached up and scratched his brow, and briefly fantasized about taking a hammer and smashing this entire room into bloody bits. That would definitely send a message to Pietri, now wouldn't it? Give the Nitrozians priority, or else all of your work will be turned to ruin. Damn it, my father should be embracing that kind of mindset, not turning away from it like a snivelling coward.

I can't wait for this petching sickness to knock him flat into the dirt. It will save me a great, great deal of trouble.

[Luciana Avgerinos]

.
There was a fraction of a difference, a tiny seemingly insignificant nuance that separated perfection from overwork. All it took was one single brushstroke and a masterpiece became mundane. It was a line Luciana was overly familiar with, what with her uncanny ability to find just where it sat one unfortunate tick and flourish too late. It was never something the patrons would notice, not even something other artists would immediately see, but she would know it was there, and more importantly he would know as well.

Oh sure, she could blame it on the distractions today, on needy clients and their whinging, on the wealthy who laughably believed themselves nobility... But blame could hardly be placed towards the same source that was offering the needed distraction that allowed for the offense against art to be slipped behind some other in-progress works to avoid detection. There it would lurk, waiting for her to rediscover it and eye it with all the hatred she could muster before Pietri saw fit to sell it off. That! That was the true crime of it. Something so flawed should be covered up with a wash and done over, not pawned off on the unsuspecting dupe who saw a bargain in a piece that the old man would quote as "Not one of mine, obviously but I trained the girl. Taught her everything she knows. It's as if you are having my work translated through another medium and the cost reflects as such. It still comes from my studio, after all." Fools. There was nothing wrong with making some mizas off of idiots but by Rhysol, let it be something purposely created to be comprehended by their dull minds, not a failure at trying to create something spectacular!

"Girl!" Dumann's voice broke through the inner ranting and caused the teenager's head to snap up from where it had been trying to bore a hole through the discarded painting, hidden though it was. Luciana had the sudden sinking sensation she'd missed one or two previous attempts to get her attention. It was the way his eyes practically bore into hers that gave it away. "Go upstairs and fetch me the Moonlit Temple Serenade." He paused for unnecessary dramatic effect before adding the barked "Now."

"Of course, Master Pietri." The reply and quick bob of her head were expected, just as much for show as the nauseating displays in the gallery.

It was maddening when clients were in the house. Pietri was by no means a kind tutor, he wasn't warm and describing him as strict really only could be attributed to his better days. What little courtesies he did possess always seemed to vanish when potential patrons were present. Not to them, of course. But whatever strength it took to smooth over negotiations meant there was no room left for niceties towards his apprentice. Still... Fetch? What was she now? His petching dog?

Luciana skirted past the man who had been shuffled off to the gallery earlier as he reached the ground floor, once more noticing that it looked as if he would be taken out by a gentle breeze. The stairs certainly hadn't done him any favors. She also couldn't help but notice the distinct lack of the other individual who had been with him. It was the one thing Pietri did that Luciana always questioned, letting someone wander about your house - studio or not - unsupervised was simply asking for trouble.

Good. The old bastard would deserve it.

Not that Luciana would get the satisfaction of a well timed I told you so. Still, it was enough to bring a wry smile to her as she reached the top of the flight and entered the gallery in search of the Dark with Some White Blotches and a Streak of Purple That Granted Bragging Rights If You Could Make Out the Vague Impression of the Temple That Never Really Was Meant to Look Like It in the First Place.

The painting would have to wait as there was something else that needed to be addressed firstly. "You know," she started as arms crossed over her chest and she took to leaning against the side of the entryway. "You really shouldn't be doing that in here."

The expression Luciana wore as she eyed the boy was one of only minor amusement, like if you watched someone almost stumble into one of the canals but they righted themselves before it ever really became interesting. A hand raised to wave slightly at the pipe in his hand. "Or at the very least you could have used something that would be more likely to have a stray ember or two escape. Some light singeing may actually do wonders for a few of these."

.

[Lucillus Nitrozian]

"You really shouldn't be doing that in here."

Is that a girl's voice? Luc thought as he turned his head over to the entryway, a grin already lighting his features. A girl's voice? And young, too? What did I do to deserve this luck? When he had heard the footsteps coming up the staircase - and sounding frustrated, too! - the Nitrozian had thought that it was his father coming back with a sour deal on his lips, or, even more volatile, Pietri himself. It struck the young man as likely that the older artist would have smelt the smoke by now and come rushing with a wave of fury already pouring out from him, the words "Get out of my home!" forming in Dumann's pathetic defense. He's probably just keeping quiet in order to avoid offending us. Typical... too cowardly to risk pissing us off, but not respectful enough to give us the light of day. In truth, Luc would have preferred that Pietri come and kick the nobles out of his gallery rather than tolerate their presence begrudgingly, for Luc would rather be humiliated one final time than suffer through another two bells of utter tedium. He was so utterly, completely, totally bored, that smoking had just become another cry of excitement on his part. So when those footsteps had started to resound through the gallery, he prepared himself for a blessedly quick exit from the home...

but the girl that was leaning now in the doorway made him reconsider leaving in such a hurry. Pretty, Luc's first thought went, followed shortly by, Is that intelligence I spy in that expression? She doesn't look dumbfounded by my choice of activity, and she definitely doesn't seem outraged... could be it be that she's actually amused by me? As a rule, the young man had a definite fondness for anybody that thought him amusing, and so his eyes were already lighting up with interest at the sight of this new, unknown girl. Unless Pietri has a daughter that I haven't heard of, or gods forbid introduced to, then this must be his apprentice. Interesting... I wonder if she puts up with his groping fingers, or if he instead prefers the company of boys like myself? Before he could make his mind up about what to think about this new arrival on his own, her next words - "Or at the very least you could have used something that would be more likely to have a stray ember or two escape. Some light singeing may actually do wonders for a few of these." - cemented his approval in stone. Funny and bold. It's impossible to not like her.

"Light singeing, huh?" Luc whispered lowly, pushing himself off the counter and standing to his full height. He ran a hand through his stylized hair, nodding softly and giving her a bemused look. "You know what, I'm inclined to agree with you on that point." Instead of approaching her, he took a few steps off to the side, coming to a stop before an unfinished piece of artwork. The colors - dry green and vibrant blue - were all confined to one corner of the canvas, the rest dominated by barely visible sketching. Judging by how much it resembles a spider's web, I'm guessing that this is Pietri's work. He has his fondness for scattering shyke all over the page. Clucking his tongue, the young man cocked his head to the side and glanced over mischievously to the girl. "A work in progress, I'm guessing? I'm not too impressed by the direction he's intending to take this. Looks uninspired to me. Perhaps the problem is in his method - paint is such an antiquated way to create art, these days. Myself, I prefer destruction," he murmured, extending out the pipe in his hand and tipping it over onto its side. Looking back now to the apprentice, Luc fixated challenging eyes on hers as he inched the pipe closer and closer to the canvas, threatening to knock a spark onto the art with every motion.

"You know, I'm wondering if you're going to stop me," the young man whispered, his voice soft and delightedly suggestive, "but the more I look at you, the more I'm assured that you're on my side. You don't want to keep this crap safe from harm, make Pietri's gallery all secure and undisturbed. You may not admit it to yourself - and I think you do - but all you want is to watch this place burn." While Luc was projecting an aura of total, exuberant confidence, he was mentally struggling to pay attention to the conversation and keep his pipe's sparks from reaching the canvas at the same time. Petch, if just one ember escapes and lights the piece up... this whole gallery will be ruined before I can blink. I have to keep the pipe level... yes, and move it back if there's a problem... Raising an eyebrow to her, the young Nitrozian finally stopped his pipe just inches away from the canvas, ready to ignite the artwork with just a tip of his hand. Don't tip the hand, don't tip the hand, don't tip the hand - "I don't even think it's malice that makes you want to burn this gallery to ash. If you really hated Pietri that much, you wouldn't have stayed here for too long. My guess is that you're just bored... that you'll do anything to feel some excitement for once.." Every word was delivered with seductive intent, as if he meant to lull her into a trance with his charming speech.

Then, in one tick, the moment was over. Luc was pulling back from the canvas and tucking the pipe back into his lips, winking at the girl as if he had never threatened to destroy Pietri's art. "How'd I do?" He asked, pipe waggling in his mouth. "Was I right at any point, or are you mystifying even me?" Chuckling, he walked over to join her on the far side of the doorway, folding his arms and giving her a customary, keen once-over. "I'm Lucillus Nitrozian. My father is Silvas, the idiot running around downstairs. And your name is?" Before she could even answer this question, he followed up by taking out his pipe and proffering it to her. "Want a smoke? I'm trying Cyphrian tobacco. It's not the worst pipeweed I've had, but the taste makes your mouth dry up like you've been left in the desert sun for a day."

[Luciana Avgerinos]

.
Luciana had been grateful for the support of the doorway throughout the display if for nothing else that it allowed her to keep a relaxed posture rather than showing the sudden tension that had wound its way up through her back and shoulders as the painting had been threatened. And yet the comment of "all you want is to watch this place burn." rang true, though she would have far preferred it to be metaphorical than actual. Well, mostly at least.

She had never been entirely sure what sort of deal her parents had made with Pietri to take her on, but she suspected it must have been a decent amount is mizas - or maybe just a healthy dose of blackmail, it was hard to say. Either way, Luciana still had a handful of years to endure before she would be considered competent enough to strike out on her own, to find her own patrons, to have her name be among those that were sought out by those with coin to spare. Pietri's premature downfall would cast a rather large and unplanned shadow across her plans. Still - it was a thought worth entertaining. There were all sorts who would buy into the tragic story of a master artist and all his works going up in flame and all that was left of his legacy was the girl he taught.

Not that she was really considering such things. Really it all came down to another item that the boy seemed to hone in on with alarming precision. "My guess is that you're just bored... that you'll do anything to feel some excitement for once." She'd allowed a small impish smile to form; anything more would have been giving him far too much credit. No need to let him know exactly how much the whole thing really had brightened up a rather dull day.

There was no denying the wave of relief that washed over her when he finally pulled away from the unfinished work, though it did come with some sensation of disappointment. That was followed quickly by a bit of irksome guilt that Luciana couldn't quite place a cause for. Thankfully the necessary distraction was given as he situated himself nearby and she could let the feeling slip away before it became too troublesome.

A gentle shake of her head was given before a shrug took over. "Afraid I'll have to decline. I'm trying to keep to only having one thing in my life that makes me feel like I need to drink all the wine in the region to cope." The girl's eyes shifted away from Luc towards the staircase, hinting at the guilty party, though she doubted it really needed to be done.

"And you weren't completely wrong." The words rolled off her tongue, teasing more on the subject before she looked back to him and left the bit of a mystery in place. "Lucillus, hmm? That's a rather interesting name all things considered."

She could feel the knowing smirk tug at the corner of her lips before a stop could be put to it. Not that she was entirely certain she wanted to stop it. "I'm Luciana, though I can't say my family name is as illustrious as yours so it's hardly worth mentioning. I suppose I could continue on with saying that friends call me Luci, however..." The word was drawn out as she pondered her next words for far shorter than she let on. "I'm not entirely sure what to make of you yet, Mr. Nitrozian."

A laugh, barely more than a single quick exhale left her before she pushed herself from the entryway of the room, letting her gaze linger on him just long enough to hopefully catch a hint at whether the way she had addressed him was irksome or not.

"So, hopefully now is when you tell me your father didn't leave you up here to pick out one of these." Her hand waved aimlessly at the gallery as the last word was spoken with barely veiled contempt. "And that whatever he actually wants will take long enough that maybe there will be enough time I can try and figure you out."

.

[Lucillus Nitrozian]

Lucillus Nitrozian

"Lucillus, hmm? That's a rather interesting name all things considered."

Interesting...? What could that mean, I wonder?

... It's not that strange a name.

I know at least another Lucillus.

I think.

Amused by her comment, though confused as to what exactly she meant by it, Luc took this time to re-evaluate his swiftly growing opinion of this girl. Pretty, smart, annoyed with Pietri but not overly bitter about the situation. Able to laugh and cause laughs in turn. Bored with her situation and delights in meeting new, exciting people that are willing to take chances. And was that a sore look I saw in her eyes, when I pulled back from that painting? Did she actually want me to set it ablaze? Overall, Luc felt that he could grow to like this painter girl, although she did seem a bit too stable for his own tastes. Setting the pipe back into his lips, the Nitrozian took another long puff, leaned his head back against the doorframe, and blew a long stream of smoke upwards that curled around the rafters before slipping out the nearby window. "And you weren't completely wrong," echoed in his head, making him grow giddy with success.

"I suppose I could continue on with saying that friends call me Luci, however..." the girl then said, prompting a grin from Luc. "Would you believe me if I said that my friends called me the same thing?" He joked, whilst wishing that he actually was joking. Luci is one of the more popular nicknames around the estate... followed shortly by Rattail, Zithbait, and weedsucker. Luciana... the name was pretty on her tongue, and was even prettier as it bounced back and forth within the hollow space of his mind. But it was her next statement that truly interested him, prompting a lift of his brow and a smirk to take hold at the corner of his mouth. "I'm not entirely sure what to make of you yet, Mr. Nitrozian." The idea that Luciana was unsure of him, that she didn't know yet where to place him in her mind... excited him a great deal. Entertaining the idea of being that aloof, unknown character that drew awe from everyone around filled him with a great deal of pleasure, and he immediately set about changing his posture to better accommodate that image. His pose slackened and became a good deal more comfortable, his gaze dropped its intensity, and his words took on a lazy drawl. And did she call me Mr. Nitrozian? I'm... I like that, but... He couldn't help but wish that he had been called something else by Luciana, for anything would be preferable to "Mr. Nitrozian". I'd rather be known as an idiot and a fool in my own right, than still addressed under the shadow of my family. Mr. Nitrozian just sounds soulless.

But he said nothing to correct her use of the title, only gave her a smile and a wink as she laughed. The laugh was a pretty sound, light and quick, that sent a little tingle down his arms and into his legs. Luc stayed within the doorway and continued to lean against the frame, pipe hanging limp from his grasp and his eyes following Luciana quietly, though he made sure to appear less intent and more at ease while doing so. No need for her to actually think that she's warranted my interest. Let her believe me uncaring... that'll frustrate her to no end. Her next words - "So, hopefully now is when you tell me your father didn't leave you up here to pick out one of these." - prompted a quiet shake of his head and a laugh of his own. "Rhysol's balls, no. He's doing something much worse... he's paying for a commission." He rolled his eyes and tapped the pipe against his leg, glancing down the stairway and wondering if he could catch a few words of the conversation his father and Pietri shared. "The doe-eyed bastard has got it in his head that Pietri's the man to visit when you want revolutionary art in Ravok. Nevermind the fact that our estate has dozens of paintings littering the halls that look exactly like this," he said, gesturing towards the long gallery. "My father means well, but he's overly sentimental when it comes to money. At least this will give us some time to... get to know each other."

"Although, to be honest, you're giving me too much credit." Smiling softly to himself, Luc moved away from the doorway and head deeper into the hall, his pipe trailing from his outstretched fingers, in danger of falling to the ground. He walked beside her, quietly and casually, making sure to avoid matching her pace lest it seem like he was attempting to do just that. "I'm not that hard to figure out. I'm a pretty simple man. I like tobacco, for one. I like smoking it - it makes me feel dangerous and sophisticated, even if all it really does is leave a bad taste in my mouth. I like art, but not this type of art. A few years ago, I saw a man creating a mural on the side of a canal wall that showed a public execution by the Stryfe. All the colors were really bright and vibrant, and he made the Stryfe look like Zith that came shrieking out of the night... it was beautiful. This stuff, on the other hand, is just boring." He waved casually towards the artwork they passed, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Then, his expression relaxing, "I like breaking the rules. I never put much stock in them, and I'd rather create a mess than prevent one from ever occurring. It's more interesting that way." His gaze flicked over to Luciana, and his head cocked to one side before immediately righting itself. "I like girls, but I'm pretty sure that I may like boys as well. I don't know. I'll have to check out the House of Immortal Pleasures soon and see what I'm more attracted to. I think I like you, but that may change given time."

Suddenly he stopped, and turned to face her. "And what about you, Luci? What is it about you that I need to figure out? Remember, of the two of us here, you're the one that's far more unknown. You said it yourself; your family name is unknown, you're an aspiring painter, and you have a whole city that could start to lust after your work. What exactly are you?"

[Luciana Avgerinos]

.
Luciana listened far more intently than her carefree attitude let on. It was a technique she'd been perfecting, feigning disinterest while absorbing information. Normally it took the form of sitting quietly while overhearing Pietri's clients discuss personal affairs they believed were safe to air while the artists were otherwise occupied. Listening to Lucillus, though? He was freely giving information, the truth at that as best she could tell - there was no need for the farce. And yet she continued on out of habit more than maliciousness, casting nothing more than a side glance at him as he finished his rather elaborate self profile.

She came to a stop finally in front of the painting she had originally been sent upstairs for. "And what about you, Luci?" It was the inevitable conclusion of the conversation, of course, though it still managed to catch her off guard. People didn't ask about her, even at the few social engagements Pietri had forced her to attend where such things were typical.

"What exactly are you?" The ever present half-smile widened as her eyes fell away, letting the question mull over in her thoughts.

"What am I?" The question was repeated, placing emphasis on the phrasing more than a misunderstanding.

Luciana raised her head slowly and reached out towards the painting in front of her. A soft "hmm" left her as she drew a fingertip along the upper edge of the canvas. There were all sorts of ways to answer the question, mostly with unnecessarily vague and metaphoric terms that would play into the way she was handling herself. When faced with the somewhat vulgar honesty that Lucillus presented, however, to carry on in such a way seemed entirely childish.

"I suppose I am an observer." A subtle nod helped to stamp the idea in her mind. It wasn't the best term, but it would have to do. "I watch people, I like watching people. Not because they're fascinating, at least not the majority. It's more because they're just so very mundane. Sometimes I record them when they do something worth noting in the form of..." She gestured to the painting in front of her. "And sometimes I record what they say when that too is worth noting but not on paper. Though mostly I just wait for people to stop being so boring."

She turned and looked away from the painting, back to Lucillus. "It's a rather long waiting game."

Another small laugh escaped, cut short with the uncertainty of if she was actually joking or not. A deep breath was taken before she spoke again, far more lighthearted and quickly. "I also like wine a bit too much, or so I've been told. I don't like parties, but I do like small affairs with a handful of friends. I like girls, but it's more objective in the way they're pleasing to the eye. I like boys a lot more and for entirely different reasons. I don't go out of my way to break the rules but given the right set of circumstances and a good alibi I'm sure I wouldn't be opposed to it."

"I think that about covers everything." She looked up and away as if running through the list mentally before snapping her attention back to Lucillus. "Ah yes, and I'm pretty sure I'm beginning to like you as well but I'm not quite sure in what capacity." Her lips pulled into a tight smirk as she shrugged a shoulder once more, giving him a look that fell just short of being flirtatious.

A beat was given before she turned away and removed the painting in front of her from where it hung on the wall. "Though for now, I should probably get this back to His Grumpiness before he starts shouting. I should be free to go for the day then, if you're interested in a change of scenery that isn't so occupied by self importance and paint fumes. Especially if your father is commissioning him for a piece, that discussion alone could take bells. Of course, you're also free to stay here, though I rather not get called back here to have to remove your corpse once you collapse of boredom."

.

[Lucillus Nitrozian]

Lucillus Nitrozian

"I suppose I am an observer." Luci began, and immediately Luc gave a quick nod and a bright smile. He had wondered if perhaps there was anything kindred between them, besides a distaste for Pietri's art and the two blithering adults in their life, and he was glad to see that they shared something when it came to their inquisitiveness. I wonder... for all the attention I'm paying her, is she giving me as much back, if not more? Realizing this, Luc's smile grew wider and evermore intent. This isn't just some idle conversation to her. This is a game, to test and understand me, to prod at my mind and see what comes gushing out. I think she may very well be a worthy opponent. All of his mind's focus placed upon this young woman, and the singular question of who she was, Luc tried to envision what kind of person she would grow into being. A painter, obviously... the best kind of painter, that catches reality for what it is and doesn't disguise it to match what the audience expects to see, or wants to see. But what else might she become?

Certainly, she would not grow into becoming a law-abiding, well-to-do citizen of Ravok. That would never appease her, for he knew that it would never appease him. Analyzing people, discovering their strengths and weaknesses, figuring out how best to coax something interesting out of them... that could never be done from the inside looking in. Sure, a wolf could dress themselves up in the skin of a lamb and walk happily among the herd, but they would snap eventually and crave excitement, crave the feeling of fresh meat being torn apart under their raking claws. Luci would live by her own rules, he was sure, and define her world in her own terms. She would dress as she wanted, work where she thought it best, and paint whatever the hell she desired to paint, with no damn given to the consequences. But... ah, the artist's quarrel! For if she refused to paint according to the whims of others, she would never find herself becoming a favorite of the noble houses, and that meant she would soon be deprived of work. She will find a way to make her fat patrons happy, he figured, nodding slowly, and, at the same time, work to subvert them with her art, lashing tongue, and wit. For a brilliant mind can never stay shackled long to the whims of the inferior.

Distracted as he was by his own imaginings, Luc only caught her words as she was preparing to leave the gallery. "I should be free to go for the day then, if you're interested in a change of scenery that isn't so occupied by self importance and paint fumes." She offered, exciting the young man a great deal. Finally! To get her out of a setting where the gloom of Pietri hangs over our heads, and my father's coughing is never too far out of earshot... He gave her a quick nod in the affirmative, already walking beside her towards the door. "That sounds excellent to me, although you now have me at a loss. I don't know whether to treat you as a friend, or an opponent." Then, suddenly halting in his step, Luc reached over and grabbed Luci firmly by the arm, turning her so that she had no choice but to stare into his eyes. His other hand reached out and braced the frame of the painting she was carrying, for it prove very unfortunate if he accidentally wound up getting her into more trouble than he bargained for. His gaze intently fixated on hers, Luc leaned over, until his nose was just an inch away from hers, and whispered, "I'll make you a bet. You like watching people, and I like watching people. More than that, though, I like getting people to do what I want. So we're going to play a little game that'll involve that. I'll fill you in on the details once we're out of the shop."

And just like that he was gone, bustling down the stairs before her, hurrying down to the first floor and throwing himself out the door at the first chance he got. His earlier attempts to dismiss Luci, to pretend as if he wasn't interested in their engagements, were completely ignored now, his whole spirit consumed with a bright sense of excitement. I've found someone that may be able to go toe to toe with me, he kept thinking to himself, and now I need a way to test that theory. Outside the shop, the bright afternoon sun was slowly slipping away into darkness, signalling the beginning of the evening. Pietri's home was only a little ways away from the nearest canal, which Luc bound to and immediately waved down the nearest empty ravasola. The ravasolaman that answered his call was short, squat, with broad shoulders and a squashed up face, but he looked innocent enough when he smiled. "I'm going to need your services for the evening," Luc announced, tossing the man a few gold coins from his coinpurse. It was far more than any ravasolaman had a right to earn, but the Nitrozian was feeling generous at the moment. "Absolute obedience, discretion, all of that wonderful loyalty your people are known for, understood?"

This bit of business completed, Lucillus sat himself in the ravasola and waited for Luci to emerge from the home. As soon as he saw her push through Pietri's door, he wasted no time in whistling her over and bidding that she join him in the ravasola. "Yae Yarone's," he would then say to the ravasolaman, bidding him start the trip with a dismissive wave of the hand. Then, leaning forward and setting his arms onto his knees, Luc explained with bated breath the game he had in mind. "Don't know if you've ever been to Yarone's studio before, but that's where you should be aiming for if you ever want your art to take off. But we're not going for the decor; we're going for the debutantes. Lots of young, wealthy men and women visit the studio, some out of a desire to meet others and engage in courtship, others because it's an easy place to pick up impressionable, easily swayed nobles." Tapping his fingers together, Luc offered Luci an easy-going smile, as if to instill confidence in her. "We're going to enter the studio together and pick out two 'marks' that look single - they can be of either gender, or race. The studio offers a service that's basically a romantic tour through Ravok, it costs twenty-five gold mizas for a bell's trip. You have to try and coerce your mark into paying for this trip." His eyes lit up with an inner fire, he looked over at the buildings that flanked the softly-gliding ravasola. "We'll have a bell to try and work our marks over and see which one relents first. Winner gets a prize of their choosing."

[Luciana Avgerinos]

.
It all seemed to happen in a whirlwind, one minute she was playing the coy game of get-to-know and the next: "I'll make you a bet..." There had been genuine surprise when Luc had grabbed her arm, an instinctual response had been suppressed with the aid of the painting in her hand. It wasn't that Luciana felt he had crossed a line; No, if anything the rather bold act only opened floodgates of curiosity. She wasn't entirely sure what, if any of that, he was becoming aware of as for that brief moment their eyes were locked. "I'll fill you in on the details once we're out of the shop." And then he was gone, no doubt making good on setting the stage for the production they would be taking place in.

She watched as he bounded down the stairs and practically flung himself into the outside world, shaking her head slightly before casting her gaze upward. Luc was proving to be the perfect mix of chaos and reason that left her wondering if perhaps their meeting was less coincidence and more divine in nature. After all, everyone knew that nothing happened in Ravok without Rhysol's approval. "I suppose I deserve this for complaining about nothing interesting ever happening."

The promise of the afternoon's excitement hurried her steps as she returned to where Pietri was discussing the finer points of composition with the man she assumed was Luc's father. The slight coughing fit he had as she placed the paining carefully against the wall solidified the fact. Part of her wished she could remain, find out exactly what the elder Nitrozian was commissioning, see if he was the type to try and include hidden meaning in his requests that revealed far more than he would expect anyone to pick up on. Durman'd scowl as he finally noticed her was enough to rid the desire entirely from her. Nothing Silvas could say would be worth enduring that gaze a moment longer.

No sooner than she made her escape than the whistle caught her attention and she quickly joined Luc in the ravasola. So, they were to go to the gallery. She'd been there once when Pietri had some work displayed there. It had been a strange event for her, far too young at the time to be considered an adult yet had been primped up as if she were being shown off as one just the same. It had been before she had begun to know the value of being involved in such things and she had spent most of the time trying to will herself invisible. If only she could go back in time and quite literally slap some sense into her younger self, the opportunities alone...

Luciana let the thought drift off as Luc set about stating the terms of their wager. It seemed a fair enough game, mostly. It was hard to decide which of the two of them actually gained an upper hand with Luc's actual place among the wealthy. He seemed charming enough to her, but how exactly did his so-called peers see him? There was only one way to find out.

"A full bell?" She raised an eyebrow and let her head cant to the side just slightly as the words danced from her lips. "Seems a bit excessive but I suppose we could just consider this a warm up."

The ravasola came to a stop at their promised destination, just in time to cut short any sort of follow up either might have made to her comment. As the two disembarked, Luciana felt only the tiniest tugs of doubt pull at her as she eyed the Studio of Yae Varone. It was swiftly shoved down as the girl squared her shoulders and looked over at her opponent for the moment. "Shall we, then?"

.