22nd Summer, 515AV
"Your arm isn't tiring, is it?"
"No, Majorie, don't worry."
"Please, my dear. It's Ms. Denoux, or madam."
Anouk released a sigh. Her one and only client, Majorie Denoux, was a spoilt, rich old woman who was as vain as the day was long. Her question about Anouk's arm was not out of concern for the artist's wellbeing, but worry that a tired limb might not paint her likeness as the glorious woman she believed herself to be. The room that the pair was in - Anouk standing at the easel and Majorie sitting on a throne-like chair - was lavish and dark with velvet curtains. Several other portraits of Majorie throughout the years hung on the walls, documenting the woman's childhood, adolescent, and early adulthood. It was a shrine to the woman, as was the rest of the house judging by the few other rooms Anouk had seen.
Maorie's latest portrait was half finished. Anouk had painted the first layer of Majorie's skin and regal red dress, but she would need to paint over them again with a thinner paintbrush to add more detail, highlights and shadows. It was slow work, mainly because Majorie refused to allow Anouk to paint when Syna hung highest in the sky. "I don't want you to mess this portrait up because the light has changed." She declared after three or four bells of painting, raising from her seat and leaving the room without bidding Anouk good day.
"I'd like to paint your choker necklace today, Majorie," Anouk said, setting down her paintbrush and stretching out her arms. "So would you mind wearing it for the rest of today's session?"
The old woman gave a gruff sigh, as if being requesting to wear a lavish necklace was the most challenging thing one could be asked to do. "Well, I suppose so." She muttered, lips pouting like a moody child. The woman did not move though. Instead, she shifted in her seat and faced towards one of the many doors that lead out of the extravagant room. "Timothy! Timothy! Oh, where has he gotten to?"
The door creaked open and a staggeringly old butler shuffled into the room. His skin was thin and creased like an ancient old piece of paper. Had she not known any better, Anouk would have guessed that Timothy was at least seventy years old. But she knew, from brief conversations with the miserable old man, that he was actually younger than Majorie. That's the benefits of wealth, Anouk thought primly as she compared Timothy's creased skin to Majorie's relatively smooth complexion. The woman had obsessed with her own longevity ever since she found that first horrifying grey hair over thirty years ago. She had bought all the creams, lotions and potions that claimed to take one back to one's prime. Timothy, by comparison, had had no choice other than to age naturally in life of servitude.
"Ah, about time. Fetch me my chocker please."
"The one with the emeralds, or the one with the rubies, ma'am?"
Majorie tutted, rolled her eyes and snapped, "obviously the one with the rubies man!"
Timothy dipped his head in apology and acceptance of this order. "Very good, ma'am." Then he turned and lumbered out the room, his back hunched down and his neck stooped so much that he faced the floor.
Anouk sipped at her water, knowing full well that it would take the best part of fifteen chimes for Timothy to return with the chocker. The house was massive, and the butler very old and very slow. She tried not to pity the man, aware that her sympathy would not be appreciated.
With the time she had left, the Konti focused back to her painting. As well as Majorie's likeness, she also had the room to paint and the view of the garden outside the window in the background. It was a big task, and the largest canvas that the Konti had worked with. She cleaned her brush thoroughly before once again picking up her artist's palette. With the summer sun bearing down outside, today was as good an opportunity as any to start painting the garden.
She mixed blue and green paint to create green, and delicately began to spot the tip of her paintbrush onto the canvas, using the sketched outlines she had drawn previously as a guide. From the painting lessons of her youth, Anouk had learnt that the best way to create a realistic likeness of leaves and grass was not to sweep the paintbrush like one would do for the sky, but to dot the paintbrush many times over the desires area. This built up a sense of depth that was otherwise hard to achieve.
Once Anouk had filled the entire space that she had previously outlined for the leaves of one of the garden trees, she mixed more paint. This time, she included more yellow to create a paler green. This, when painted on top of the darker colour, would add to the depth of the tree and make it easier for Anouk to recreate the lushness of the leaves.
"No, Majorie, don't worry."
"Please, my dear. It's Ms. Denoux, or madam."
Anouk released a sigh. Her one and only client, Majorie Denoux, was a spoilt, rich old woman who was as vain as the day was long. Her question about Anouk's arm was not out of concern for the artist's wellbeing, but worry that a tired limb might not paint her likeness as the glorious woman she believed herself to be. The room that the pair was in - Anouk standing at the easel and Majorie sitting on a throne-like chair - was lavish and dark with velvet curtains. Several other portraits of Majorie throughout the years hung on the walls, documenting the woman's childhood, adolescent, and early adulthood. It was a shrine to the woman, as was the rest of the house judging by the few other rooms Anouk had seen.
Maorie's latest portrait was half finished. Anouk had painted the first layer of Majorie's skin and regal red dress, but she would need to paint over them again with a thinner paintbrush to add more detail, highlights and shadows. It was slow work, mainly because Majorie refused to allow Anouk to paint when Syna hung highest in the sky. "I don't want you to mess this portrait up because the light has changed." She declared after three or four bells of painting, raising from her seat and leaving the room without bidding Anouk good day.
"I'd like to paint your choker necklace today, Majorie," Anouk said, setting down her paintbrush and stretching out her arms. "So would you mind wearing it for the rest of today's session?"
The old woman gave a gruff sigh, as if being requesting to wear a lavish necklace was the most challenging thing one could be asked to do. "Well, I suppose so." She muttered, lips pouting like a moody child. The woman did not move though. Instead, she shifted in her seat and faced towards one of the many doors that lead out of the extravagant room. "Timothy! Timothy! Oh, where has he gotten to?"
The door creaked open and a staggeringly old butler shuffled into the room. His skin was thin and creased like an ancient old piece of paper. Had she not known any better, Anouk would have guessed that Timothy was at least seventy years old. But she knew, from brief conversations with the miserable old man, that he was actually younger than Majorie. That's the benefits of wealth, Anouk thought primly as she compared Timothy's creased skin to Majorie's relatively smooth complexion. The woman had obsessed with her own longevity ever since she found that first horrifying grey hair over thirty years ago. She had bought all the creams, lotions and potions that claimed to take one back to one's prime. Timothy, by comparison, had had no choice other than to age naturally in life of servitude.
"Ah, about time. Fetch me my chocker please."
"The one with the emeralds, or the one with the rubies, ma'am?"
Majorie tutted, rolled her eyes and snapped, "obviously the one with the rubies man!"
Timothy dipped his head in apology and acceptance of this order. "Very good, ma'am." Then he turned and lumbered out the room, his back hunched down and his neck stooped so much that he faced the floor.
Anouk sipped at her water, knowing full well that it would take the best part of fifteen chimes for Timothy to return with the chocker. The house was massive, and the butler very old and very slow. She tried not to pity the man, aware that her sympathy would not be appreciated.
With the time she had left, the Konti focused back to her painting. As well as Majorie's likeness, she also had the room to paint and the view of the garden outside the window in the background. It was a big task, and the largest canvas that the Konti had worked with. She cleaned her brush thoroughly before once again picking up her artist's palette. With the summer sun bearing down outside, today was as good an opportunity as any to start painting the garden.
She mixed blue and green paint to create green, and delicately began to spot the tip of her paintbrush onto the canvas, using the sketched outlines she had drawn previously as a guide. From the painting lessons of her youth, Anouk had learnt that the best way to create a realistic likeness of leaves and grass was not to sweep the paintbrush like one would do for the sky, but to dot the paintbrush many times over the desires area. This built up a sense of depth that was otherwise hard to achieve.
Once Anouk had filled the entire space that she had previously outlined for the leaves of one of the garden trees, she mixed more paint. This time, she included more yellow to create a paler green. This, when painted on top of the darker colour, would add to the depth of the tree and make it easier for Anouk to recreate the lushness of the leaves.
