Evarista's initial course was towards the bookstore. A second visit. Now that she found an unexpected application for her artistic itch, she thought of getting more materials. Some dyed inks, brushes of different calibers, or maybe even a palette to mix colors on. Although, this ink was meant for parchment and not for skin. It would be better to get proper body paint, but Evarista wasn't aware of any specialist store in the city that sold any such thing. Colorful clowns weren't exactly a common sight the somewhat somber tradition of Ravokian theatre. And, frankly, she didn't appreciate the aesthetic that much.
Her footsteps slowed as her thoughts wandered away from the bookstore. No, forget it. Black ink and one brush was all she needed. Intuition told her that it was not only sufficient – it was much better. Evarista liked simple things.
With a sharp turn, the girl changed direction, almost crashing into the boy walking beside her. She set her sights on home, which was close by.
"Archibald. Hmm."
Mumbling in reply to Hwyn's suggestion, she glanced at him sideways as she walked, immediately imagining all sorts of ways the spider could come into play. That, of course, meant placing it on various parts of human anatomy and appreciating the aesthetics of it. While appealing in theory, she had enough common sense to understand that Hwyn wouldn't be able to stay still enough for a picture while there was a poisonous menace crawling all over him, so that idea had to be discarded. Well, until sometime when he was asleep. Filing that mental note into her shallow memory, the wannabe painter smirked contently, not even noticing Victor's salute as she walked past him through the front entrance.
Without ceremony, Evarista headed upstairs, striding over two stair steps at a time. The caffeine from that coffee had already kicked in. Wondrous how that little cup of drink could jolt her so awake, and not only her body, but her imagination as well. What little she had, anyway.
Storming into her room, she eagerly reached for the sole volume occupying her bookcase. It's been a while since she last touched it, so the sudden disturbance send a cloud of dust up into her face. Sneezing impatiently, the girl motioned her blonde companion to stand near the chair at the window, herself taking a seat there. Keeping the heavy book on her lap, she flipped open the impressed cover and peered over a random page. Her eyes skipped most of the Common text, as that's not what she was interested in. What she was looking for was the ancient tongue transcription in a column on the side of the page.
She could read most of the letters, while not fully understanding the whole passage. Something about traveling across the vast oceans towards the unknown. It didn't matter. Her gaze traced the angles and curves of the ancient script. It was just as she remembered it.
Satisfied with her finding, she reached for the brush and ink. Holding the brush by the base of the handle for maximum precision, she pulled Hwyn closer to her and examined one of his arms closely. The medium-sleeved tunic revealed his lower arms. Enough skin to draw on. She held his wrist close to her eyes and brought the wet tip of the brush against it.
One after another, letters took form, winding up his arm unevenly. Evarista wasn't much of a writer, and even less of a calligrapher, though the simplicity of her symbols lent the painting an air of ancient primitivity. Glancing down at the page occasionally to confirm the shapes, she set down letter after letter thinly. Hwyn's arm was soon adorned by a poetic sentence of... unclear meaning, but as the painter saw it, that was part of the charm.
"Put your heel on the windowsill."
It was more of a warning than a direction. Her free hand was already raising one of his feet to a challenging angle. She wouldn't be able to raise her own leg that high, but she had much higher expectations of him than of herself. Besides, he's been bragging about his flexibility, and it was time to put it to the test. With or without difficulties, his leg was eventually outstretched in front of her like a perfect canvas.
Pulling his stocking partway down to reveal the skin, she stroked it appreciatively. This really was superior to any paper. The brush set down more eager strokes, tickling his calf as it danced across it. Another mysterious passage adorned his skin, traveling in a slight curve around his leg. The wet ink glimmered proudly in the sunlight steaming in from the window. Satisfied, the girl leaned back in the chair and allowed her model to have his leg back.
"You can pull up the stocking once the ink dries."
Turning Hwyn into a portable library of secret knowledge was beginning to show its appeal. Now, if she only had any actual secret knowledge to enshrine on him. But that was a technicality.
She wanted to vandalize him some more, but her wrist was about to cramp up, so she put down the brush and sighed in resignation.
"Well... then. Massage my wrist for me."
The coffee had done its job in helping her to keep concentration, but the energy surge was starting to wear off. Trying to relax from her tense posture, she stuck out her sore hand at him.
Thanks for the great read.
