All the Colors of the Wind (Anouk)

[Talya]

Timestamp: Summer 15, 515 AV

The University was near. Talya could sense it, in far more than the shadow that loomed over the lawns. Casting the grass in a deepening silhouette; enveloping it in shades of grey that crawled neatly between the blades, blending easily with the darker tones of the night; the hints of white light of the moon. It was upon the grass that the Ethaefal sat, not entirely distant from the building's steps. Her eyes locked upon the skies above, her hands resting on earth behind her back; spine arched so that she was tilted upward; inviting the night to fill her as she held her legs before her. A smile spread across her lips as she listened to the lazy caws of the late gulls, the chirping of crickets upon nearby reeds as she adjusted the skirt of her dress; pulling the black cotton fabric farther down the length of her leg, so that it wouldn't ride so dastardly close to her belly, and expose far more than she ever intended. Her deep indigo irises scanning the heavens, in search of celestial bodies that perhaps, she had not seen before, or at least, not of late as the season continued to shift and change; the world rotating and rolling as it was wont to do.

Talya found the north star first. It was the brightest of the stars; the one that sailors employed in order to discover their directions when a compass could not be found. The guiding star that led them home. It was the easiest to find, Talya had always felt, as it made itself stand out in a way similar to the sun during daylight hours. Or the moon, whenever it failed. The sky being an endless blanket for these things, over which the occasional cloud floated past. Its fluffy shape outlined in black; deep shades of brown and blue. The Ethaefal scarcely noticed these however, as they moved on by, slowly cycling alongside the rest of Mizahar as her eyes trailed upward from the north star, in search of constellations, or other bodies that she would be able to identify. It wasn't long, she felt, before she found something toward the northeast. A grouping of seven stars, which formed a constellation known as ssalg, which was the depiction of a butterfly.

Although the outline could be colored in with nothing more than a profound, midnight blue, Talya thought she remembered that the truye ssalg, if you could call it that, was a butterfly with four lobed wings, (the upper two being slightly larger than the lower two), that were rather vibrant in their nature. They were said to be ringed in black, with three speckles to the side of this, while the flesh of the wings came in a number of warmer hues- orange, yellow, red. It was said to be a butterfly that would burn you to the touch, and as such, it would go across the world in search of nectar to drink from each of the flowers that its little heart desired. However, the flowers weren't any more impervious to the insect's power than was man, and each time it settled upon a petal or a leaf to take a sip of nectar, the plant would go up in flame. It would flee the smoke; knowing it dangerous, although strangely, its body remained unaffected. For years it searched, hungry, for something that it would not destroy, and as though by the way of a curse, it would not die, no matter how famished it became.

Until one day, it saw another butterfly. It was the same size as it; the same shape. It had the same dark outline on its wings, the same three specks, the same black abdomen and antenae. However, this butterfly's wings had cool tones to fill it in- greens, blues, a few hints of purple. Instantly, ssalg became infatuated with this particular butterfly, and chased it around the world, as the other had no interest in it. After awhile, the cool toned insect grew tired of the chase, and approached ssalg to let him know as much. It was then their antenae touched one another, and their powers were revealed and released. One burning the other; making the air scorch, the other causing ssalg to freeze as much as the air cooled around them. And then finally, they evaporated into a pool of mist, as though they canceled each other out. Their bodies rising into the sky; becoming stuck to one another, although only ssalg took to the stars, becoming a constellation. One Tal saw now, as she recalled his story, feeling almost sad for the creature, although she felt as though it were impossible for him to have ever existed within all of Mizahar.

Talya sighed. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and let her eyes wander; wondering if she could find something else she recognized, (or thought she recognized), and a story she could tell to herself about it. (Especially if she didn't know the true origin story, as that just seemed to make everything all the more fun).

[Anouk]

Painting in poor lighting was never advised. It not only made it a challenge to actually see what one was painting, but also made it more difficult to correctly mix the colours. So Anouk had started with watered down paints; some might say she was cheating, but the Konti preferred to describe this decision as wise. This way, at least, it would be far easier for her to correct any mistakes she made due to the poor lighting.

She stood directly outside a window of the Quill's Rest, where the low murmuring of her fellow artists filled Anouk's mind with dull flashes of silver and blue. Nighttime colours for a nighttime painting session. She sighed quietly and tilted her head left and right, squinting at the small canvas that stood before her on an easel. The Quill's Rest was probably the only café in Zeltiva that would accommodate an artist foolish enough to take on the challenge of painting in near darkness. Maybe she was being stupid, selfish even. Anouk winced at the mere thought being accused of such vulgarity.

But then again, she enjoyed challenging herself -- how else was she meant to learn? The thin light from the candles in café window, that were Anouk's only source of light, flooded the immediate area in a soft golden glow. But the nighttime darkness soon swallowed up the buildings and plants that Anouk could see. It was a rather beautiful scene, and one that Anouk knew she would want to rememeber as an ancient old woman.

Anouk sighed yet again, stepping back up to her easel and touching paintbrush to canvas. With a sweep of her brush, she painted a thin vertical line that was meant to be reminiscent of the buildings that surrounded her. She began to add more detail in the form of wavering lines on the face of the buildings that mimicked the stones and bricks that made them. After cleaning her brush in a small vial of water, Anouk dipped the tip of the bristles into her grey pain and swept the brush over the front of the buildings, covering them in a thin layer of the paint.

She still needed to add shading, but so far, so good.

[Talya]

Talya searched the sky again. She saw nothing at first, save for the little dipper. The larger one didn't seem to be out that night, any more than did the plethora of the constellations she knew, and yet, she noticed a few groupings of the stars that seemed familiar, although she wasn't quite sure why. Whether or not it was another constellation she had been learning, or because it resembled another constellation she did know. Whatever the case, the stars managed to make her smile, although she shifted uneasily in her seat, as she supposed she should have known more. Thus, she kept on looking, just in case she could actually find something that would make her feel as though she knew more than she actually did. But alas, it did not appear as though it were meant to be so, as several lights came on in the building behind her; drowning out some of the shadows that had shrouded her mere moments before, while deepening the contoured lines that some of the others had drawn across the lawns and the floors. "Night classes," Talya grumbled, (the thought that there were perhaps people cleaning the building at this hour never so much as crossing her mind), must be lighting hundreds of darned candles, or those weird lantern things I've heard they have. She looked back up at the sky, it was nearly impossible to discern much of anything now, even when she squinted and did her best to concentrate on what she once knew, with a great level of certainty, was there.

With a heavy, dissatisfied sigh, Talya brought herself to her feet, and began heading back into the other portions of the city. Headed in the direction that seemed to have less people up, as there were fewer amounts of lights seeping out through the windows, and the little cracks and spaces between the doors and the wall next to it. She walked silently, her hands held at her sides, as she wondered if it were simply better for her to turn in, as there would be nothing further to be seen as of now, seeing as there was simply to much illumination. But it was to early. At least in her book, she wasn't tired. She didn't want to toss and turn in a bed all night, just trying to catch a wink of sleep. And in that thought, it became decided. She would stay out until the morning, or whenever it was that she first began to feel tired and decided it was time to try and go to bed. But what would she do? Certainly, there were many things she could do, but which would be the most interesting amongst them, to do now? Talya wasn't quite sure, and as such, shrugged, deciding that she would spend some time simply wandering aimlessly through the city until an idea struck her, and she changed course accordingly.

Talya's steps sounded softly upon the streets; the narrow strips of dock that she followed. They shuffled at times, displacing a mixture of dust and loose stone the size of pebbles. But she could think of nothing as she kept her head down, even though her mind churned. This continued for several minutes, until she passed a building that still bore the weight of light. It was a building she thought she recognized, but she couldn't be quite certain unless she found some sort of sign to indicate that she was, (which she conveniently did not). Outside of it stood a woman with blonde hair, who was huddled over what looked to be canvas, or perhaps a thick stack of paper; painting. Talya could see the brush in her hands; the deft strokes she took to place color down where it had not been mere moments before. A smile crossed her lips. Studying this woman was something she could do. Thus, she let her eyes trail over her, so that she took in every inch; every detail, from her short stature, to the milky glow of her skin, and the scales that lined them. The delicacy of her fingers; the level of concentration held within her eyes, the slender smile upon her lips. The simplicity of her overall dress.

Soon, Talya found, her eyes had developed a far off look and she had entered a trance as she slipped into the shadows, and simply watched the Konti at work. Within another few heartbeats, the woman's aura had appeared before her. It was a pale blue; a color close to the tone of the daytime sky. It wound around her like a lazed eddy. When she sniffed the air, she caught a number of scents associated with it. There were berries, she recognized, and then something else. Something woody; something earthen, and she wondered if it had something to do with the base for her paints and her apparent love for art, or if it were some sort of allusion to how she liked perfume, or even, being surrounded by nature, in more wooded places. The aura bore a sound as well- it was a sort of faint scratching at something. Kind of like quill on parchment, although again, Talya didn't feel entirety certain in this deduction. The aura didn't taste like anything, and as her pupils dilated, and her heart began to beat a little faster, Talya decided she would have to make her conclusions off of whatever she had already gleaned. First off, Talya surmised that the Konti was within a calm, tranquil state, and that she had a more serene soul by her nature. Second, she assumed the smells had entirely to do with her hobbies, although now that she thought of it, she supposed it could have had something to do with cooking as well, or perhaps even, more simply, a love for good food. Although the scratching sound led her back to her previous notions on art- maybe this woman liked drawing and painting. But again, she couldn't be entirely certain unless she asked.

Talya let her concentration break. The aura fall; it faded away. As soon as it had, Talya crept forward out of the shadows. If the woman hadn't sensed or even noticed her presence before, Anouk was likely to do so now. For her steps had sound, and her body cast a shadow. All that remained, was to add the element known as speech. "What are you painting there?" she inquired. She found often, that when startled, people had an easier time talking about themselves. In fact, most people seemed to prefer talking about themselves, as opposed to anything else.

[Anouk]

Painting in dim lighting was more challenging than Anouk had first expected. She had been uncharacteristically cocky in her first assumption; swept away by a stroke of inspiration like a ship lost at sea. Such was the curse of the artist, the Konti mused: one could never predict where inspiration would strike, or what idea it would be transplant into her head like a lover's whisper.

Though her artwork was progressing well, as far as the eye could see in the semi-darkness, Anouk was gripped by paranoia. The painting might appear accurate and well presented in this poor lighting, but what if it appeared completely different in daylight? What if the shadows she had created were purple, not black? What if the leaves, that should be dark green, were actually orange? She considered what people might say when they saw the painting: well, I'd suspect this artist painted with his eyes closed!

How humilitating.

But then again, wasn't art all about challenging oneself and all previous conceptions? Just a few days ago Anouk had shared a latenight chat with a poet who swore his verbs contained no rhymes, no reflection of his life. In fact, the young man had claimed rather proudly that someone could read his poems without understanding what a single line was about.

To Anouk, this had seemed like madness. She painted to capture moments in her life, moments that she wanted to share with others. It would make no sense to her to paint something that wasn't definitely a thing, or a person. Even if her audience did not recognise the face, she hoped they would surmise that whoever the model had been was important to her as an artist. But this poet, as cringe-worthingly philosophical as he was trying to be, had simply rolled his eyes and called Anouk's approach to art as pedantic and childish.

So maybe her art would not push boundaries, but that didn't mean it could not be impressive. The Konti felt a strain upon her shoulders whenever she united paintbrush and canvas together. Ever since she was a child, she had felt the need to represent her life as skilfully as possible on canvas, disappointing herself should a piece of art not turn out close to perfect.

It perhaps explained why Anouk felt such pressure to perform well at that moment. This was a challenge, and the nighttime view before her was indeed splendid enough to be captured. But it would be all too easy for her to mess up, to smudge the paint or mix the colours wrong.

With a hefty sigh, she continued painting. The night sky took the up the first inch or so of the canvas, and had yet to be created. Mixing what she thought was blue, black and a touch of grey, Anouk began to sweep her paintbrush left and right, her gestures extended and with a slight pressure. When the bristles of her paintbrush spanned out on the canvas, it ingrained faint lines into the sky, resulting in a rough-textured look that was common in oil painting. When she had filled the entire portion in dark blue, Anouk added faint wisps of grey-blue across the sky, in an attempt to capture the few clouds that dotted the sky.

She gazing up at the stars, trying her best to differentiate one from another, when the Konti suddenly felt on edge. Someone was approaching, though not fast enough to be identified as a threat. She turned her head in the direction of the faint footsteps, paintbrush suspended horizontally in the air, pointing up to the sky like a hopeful beacon. Another woman emerged, with marble-like skin that challenged even Anouk's for pearlescent paleness. Anouk instantly smiled: such was her typical approach to strangers, especially ones that enquired about her artwork. "This nighttime scene." She said, her free hand gesturing to the cobbled pathway lined with trees in front of her. Aquamarine eyes slid from the woman's face to canvas, and back again. "Though in this lighting, I doubt you could tell." She sighed with mild frustration, but quickly moved on. Anouk was not one to wallow in self-pity, especially in the company of strangers. "I am Anouk, by the way." The paintbrush in the Konti's right hand jerked upwards, "enjoying the night's view?"

[Talya]

Talya glanced up at the sky again, and smiled. "Well it is a rather beautiful one with all of the stars," she said, as her smile widened, and her gaze returned to the earth; to the Konti. "Would you mind if I had a look at your painting Anouk?" Talya asked as she approached the woman, stopping when she came to a place near her left shoulder, so that she was hovering over her a little, (as the Konti was much shorter). "I've always appreciated art, perhaps, all the Ethaefal do," she said, before falling silent a moment and surveying the work if it was offered, or trying to steal a look over the woman's shoulder if she was too embarrassed to show her outright. She'd study the contours of each line- the way they sloped, or simply ran along the canvas. The darker outlines framing what was meant to be held within; what was meant to create the truth within the picture. The layers of the paint- which didn't appear to be much; as watercolors didn't bear that same texture, or power that the oils did. At least, not in the same way, as the water forced the paint itself to spread, so that it bled, oftentimes, outside of the lines, or into other sectors of the canvas, making tiny creases of darker color if only you looked closely enough, at what had been painted.

"Talya," she finally whispered, as she breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling evenly. "It is a beautiful rendering, Anouk," she said, while pointing at a few of the lines she had drawn, "with how the color flows- it works better with the sky I think, as it might with the sea." She pointed upward, "if you look, if you squint, doesn't it seem as though the colors billow outward? Like nothing is depicted neatly, with even strokes? Simply whirls, and eccentric wavers of the painter's hand?" her eyes glimmered as the studied the stars, looking for something, but she knew not what. Perhaps, a constellation. "Or rather, something that causes the color to bleed and to flow like the paints you used, as none of the darker tones seem uniform... you can see them shift ever so slightly if you simply look, don't you think?" she paused. "Kind of like... with an aura," she whispered under her breath as a sort of afterthought, as she squinted, until the stars widened, and became hazy silver streaks; the sky itself, a blanket of blurred deep blue tones. She thought that even now she could find something- the north star, the little dipper, something easy, but all she saw were the smaller pieces of the equation, and not the whole.

For awhile, as the Ethaefal's pupils continued to dilate, her gaze became all the more distant. The wind sweeping through the area, rustling her clothes as it swept her hair off her shoulders, and then set it back down as it died again, and her gaze finally returned to the Konti, as though finally remembering that she were there, no matter if she had spoken at all during her study or not. "Have you ever seen it that way Anouk?" she would ask, "or is art, as you experience it, something that must always be drawn within the lines? A confine defined by your own perception, of where you think an image is, or where, it more than likely, should be?" she finished with a sigh, as her breath left her lips, and then a moment later, she drew another in, forcing herself to count it as her first, as she let it out, felt the fall of her chest as she drew the next in, and then counted to ten slowly, in this manner, so that she could calm herself. For although she felt no true physical exertion, her mind had begun to ache. Why was it, that she always had to ask these sorts of questions?

Questions, that didn't have a single answer, or perhaps even a true one? Questions that only confused, questions that only hurt?