Portrait of a Lady

[Madeira Dusk]

12th of Spring, 521

Emma was, as always, equal parts Madeira's map and guide-dog as they found their way to Tain's Studio. Even several years out of Alvadas, and after overcoming her brief lapse into reality-induced schizophrenia, this was the one part of life outside the city of illusions she could not get past. She had a blind spot to predictability and spacial awareness that made it impossible to find anything in this city on her own. Even attempting to wrap her mind around the concept of a city permanently rooted to the ground, unchanging outside her field of view, could cause flickers of that old Avalad madness. So she didn't.

So her youngest ghost was bobbed along ahead of her, from the manor, out past the Plaza, and into the farthest corner of Zintia Peak. Emma hummed as she walked, completely confident in her navigation of this world her master was blind to, and content in her roll as guide dog. She kept an easy pace that Madeira could match, even as the woman struggled with a large garment box in her arms. When the beautiful two story studio came into view, perched like some great bird on the edge of a cliff that oversaw the bay, the ghost pointed triumphantly.

"There it is!"

"Thanks, kitten", Madeira ruffled the girl's bouncy, semi translucent hair and found resistance under her soulmist imbued hand. "Did you want to stay and watch or go explore?"

The girl thought for a moment, weighing her options. The sores at the corners of her ruined lips broke and leaked bloody fluid as she frowned in concentration.

"Can I help with the picture?"

"What if I give you your own paper so you can draw something yourself?"

More intense concentration as the ghost weighed her options, her eyebrows slowly migrating to meet in the middle of her wrinkled brow.

"Can I draw with your hands?"

"Not this time, kitten."

"'Kay, I'm gonna go explore."

Thus decided, the ghost left her Spiritist at the door and bounced away, approaching the cliff as if to peak over the edge. Madeira shook her head, rolling her eyes at her own impulse to tell the long-dead child to be careful, and pushed her way inside the studio.

The interior smelt of paint and wet clay. Half finished works were propped on easels and on shelves, and a handful of artists sat in quiet contemplation or creative fervor. The whole back of the building was skyglass, and sunlight poured in through the uninterrupted view. Madeira breathed in the atmosphere and sighed wistfully, regretting she that was never raised to be artistic.

"Madeira Craven, welcome back."

Tarin, who was hovering over the artists closest to the door, looked up from his musings as his concentration was broken by the strange woman. And it was no wonder. Wearing an elaborate silk dress in an eye watering shade of yellow, complete with sparkling lace gloves, cheap rings, and more than a few diamonds, Madeira immediately stood out from typical Lhavitian fare.

"Tarin, it's good to see you", she smiled, shifting the garment box to her hip in order to offer her hand to shake. "Did you have an artist ready for me?"

"You'll be looking for Miss Nix", Tain nodded. "She's around here somewhere. Let me bring her out and you can introduce yourselves." As the owner and namesake of the studio, he had listened to Madeira's commission when she'd come by a few days prior and immediately suggested the artist to her. A young an rising talent, he had told her, selling her service with pride.

Tain disappeared into the studio, leaving Madeira to wait and wonder who her artist could be.

x

[Lyra Nix]

The 12th of Spring 521

Crumpled and folded upon the floor, Lyra leaned against the glass behind her, the freely shining sun warming her back. Her notebook lay sprawled across her haphazard lap, cradled by one hand while the other loosely clutched her charcoal. She’d arrived at the Studio only some moments ago at Tain’s behest for a portrait commission. Today’s commission was different though and the artist was actually nervous, though she’d never intentionally let it be known. It was a strange and unbecoming feeling for her to be nervous about painting.

Lyra normally did not get nervous with her art, even for portrait work although the pressure was indeed heavier with portraits than with landscapes. Painting was her passion. The subject matter made no difference to her so long as she got to practice that which she loved. However, a typical day at the Studio meant arriving to a note describing the commission she was to work on and then going about her business to get it done. Instead, Tain had personally spoken to her about painting this portrait. It had taken Lyra by surprise and she had yet to fully shake the resulting nerves.

The artist’s drawing hand moved across the notebook absentmindedly while she thought to herself, as if it had a mind of its own or was possessed by the need to create. While her mind was buried in recollection, replaying the conversation with Tain over in her mind, Lyra hadn’t even noticed she’d also been sketching. Glancing down at her lap, abstract shapes and lines adorned the page, complete with random smudges from her hand sliding across as it moved along. Smiling to herself, she supposed in reality she wasn’t all that surprised. Not truly.

Creating had always been an extension of herself, guided by what sometimes felt like someone else dwelling inside her. There were times she felt the thoughts and ideas form in her mind and when she planned out their execution and put it into action herself. Where she could replay the entire ordeal step by step in her mind with certainty. And then there were times when she felt only the need to create and it all just happened seemingly on its own. Where she couldn’t pinpoint the formation of the subject matter or any plans at all on putting it to canvas, but there indeed it was. In addition to those processes, sketching had always been a way for Lyra to calm herself down when she was nervous or upset or overwhelmed. It was only fitting that while she worked through insecurities in her head, her hand glided across the page working out its own issues in preparation for the upcoming portrait.

As if on cue, Tain rounded a corner and approached where she still sat on the floor. Returning to the present, Lyra looked up from her notebook, closing it and standing as he greeted her. “It’s time Lyra. She’s here for you in the front room.” Nodding and thanking him, Lyra took a deep breath and headed to the entrance, composing herself the best she could along the way. Finding her client turned out to be an instantaneous undertaking, as Lyra laid her eyes upon someone she’d never seen before, or seen anyone like before. The woman was around her height, with pale blonde hair and light eyes the color of the sky. That much was nothing unusual, but the woman’s garb is what set her apart.

The dress she wore was an almost blinding shade of yellow, like Syna herself adorned the woman’s body. It was accompanied by lace gloves the likes of which Lyra had never seen, glittering in the light as she moved. If that weren’t enough, the woman was dripping in jewelry, all sparkling wildly alongside her gloves. It was almost painful to behold the woman yet Lyra couldn’t tear her eyes away from her as she approached. She hoped her facial expression was polite and professional, but she struggled to conceal her awe as she thrust a hand towards her.

“Hello, I’m Lyra Nix. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you. Tain tells me you’re looking to have your portrait painted?” Gesturing for the woman to follow her, Lyra made her way over to her station to take a seat. “Tell me what you had in mind? I will do everything in my power to accommodate your vision. Your satisfaction is my top priority.”


Word Count: 737

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira found herself staring out of the skyglass walls as she waited. Whatever her thoughts were on Lhavit, she couldn't deny that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. This high on the central peak, all of the glittering city was laid bare below them, cradled by majestic mountains and lording over the sea that disappeared into the horizon. Of all the places she could have stranded herself, she supposed this was not the worst.

Her musings were cut short as a brunette approached from her peripherals. It was a woman, of a similar height and age to her, she noticed, but the similarities stopped abruptly there. Madeira turned to face her, automatically shifting to take the offered hand to shake.

"Lyra? You're as lovely as the instrument you're named after", she flashed a smile. "The pleasure is mine. I'm Madeira Craven."

If the woman hadn't introduced herself, Madeira wasn't sure she would have recognized her as an artist. The girl radiated health and a salt-of-the-earth quality that she had thought was extremely rare in the artsy types. And she was possessed of a kind of glowing beauty that only ever seemed to be born into loving families. It was only as she glanced down at their clasped hands, and noticed the smudge of black charcoal that completely covered the side of the woman's hand, that she found physical proof that this woman was indeed an artist.

Lyra led her to a small workstation, the surface pockmarked and stained by the many hands and many mediums that had used it. Madeira took the offered seat across from the artist and settled the garment box on her lap.

"You heard correct, I'd like my portrait done", Madeira began, tapping her finger thoughtfully against her painted lip. "I'm getting married in a few weeks, and I'd like a portrait of myself in my wedding dress to give to my wife. Something to remember the day, you know? The thing is, I know there are more experienced artists here, but I'm not looking for anything hyper realistic. My culture is a little... looser on such concepts, so I asked for someone with perhaps less technical skill but a lot more passion. Tain said you fit the bill perfectly", the spiritist smiled, already certain this woman was exactly what Tain had promised. "What do you think? Can you do that?"

Craning her neck, Madeira looked around the studio. She had never had her portrait painted, and she wasn't sure of the process. "Is there somewhere I can change? And a place where models are supposed to stand for their portraits? I'll have to leave the posing and scenery to you. My artistic eye is pathetically underdeveloped, I'm afraid."

x

[Lyra Nix]

Smiling to herself with a bright flush in her cheeks, Lyra settled in easily across from the woman, reveling momentarily in the lady’s high praise. She wasn’t often complimented, and definitely not so openly, so the exchange took her entirely by surprise and filled her with a warm but mildly uncomfortable feeling as they began their conversation. Retrieving her notebook and charcoal again, Lyra looked upon the woman attentively while she relayed her vision to the artist and took notes as to what she desired for her piece. Making sure to include, or disregard, every element her client wished for in the finished product was extremely important to Lyra. Successful commission work almost completely depended on it.

At the mention of her upcoming wedding, Lyra’s whole demeanor lifted and brightened like the shining sun appearing after a rainy day. The artist was herself a sap, and loved anything and everything related to love. The idea in its entirety was a concept so utterly beautiful and pure, it was an artist’s dream to capture on canvas. The topic was so widespread with such a vast number of possibilities that it was something Lyra found she could never tire of. She’d be sure to congratulate the woman when it was her turn to speak.

Until then, she listened carefully while Madeira explained her wishes. She did indeed want her portrait painted, but she wasn’t looking for an exact likeness. This was surprising to Lyra, to the effect of realizing she’d never received such a commission before, and it was all she could do to keep the revelation and corresponding confusion from splattering across her face. Normally when someone wanted a portrait, they wanted a true likeness. To hear of a culture with views laxer than that was very different for Lyra and she even struggled a little bit to wrap her mind fully around the concept. All in all though, what she was hearing from Madeira was that she wanted her portrait to gift another, but Lyra had much more creative freedom than usual to grant such a request. It was almost as if errors in technique would be desirable in this piece, rather than viewed as mistakes. Carefully placed “mistakes” could lend their hand to the overall product. The ideas were definitely flowing.

“Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials! What an exciting time,” Lyra said, beaming. “I can absolutely do that for you ma’am. I already have some ideas in mind.” Momentarily laying down her notebook and charcoal, Lyra pointed towards the back of the studio, past Tain’s work area. “There’s a room back there you can get changed in. I will begin putting ideas to paper to go over with you when you return.” As the woman headed off to get dressed, Lyra picked up her utensils again and flipped to a clean page in her notebook. Turning it longways in her lap so that it was portrait oriented, Lyra began formulating a vision in her mind of this commission.

Going over in her head what she knew just from observation, Lyra concluded that Madeira was clearly part of the wealthy class of citizen, so her pose and not just her outfit should also reflect her status and be elegant to see. Thus, Lyra thought she should be standing and not seated. Having her sit would take away her elegance and diminish her observed demeanor. Lyra’d realized the moment she laid eyes on her that Madeira was someone who’s presence demanded attention, even without speaking. Her presence was fierce in its own manner, and it remained that way beneath her polished mannerisms. Forcing her affect to be small by having her sit would be insulting. However, Lyra knew she couldn’t entirely depict her pose without seeing her outfit. The exact placement of her limbs and head would have to work hand in hand with the garb draping those features. Resigned to wait for her return, Lyra let her mind start drifting to backgrounds for the intriguing woman while she waited.


Word Count: 669

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira did not miss how Lyra's expression brightened at the mention of the wedding, or how her posture shifted eagerly. It seemed she had a bit of a romantic on her hands. That was good. She smiled at the eagerness, hoping that romantic idealism would bleed into the portrait as well.

Given instructions to change in the backroom, Madeira stood with her box.

"Thank you very much. Will you come to the wedding? It will be in the Surya Plaza, during the Hearts Festival. It's open to everyone and we will be serving all sorts of drinks and food. I would love for you to see your art in motion", she framed her face with her hands and laughed. "If you have a partner, you should bring them too. There's nothing more romantic than a wedding in the midst of a festival."

She smiled over her shoulder as she made her way to the backroom, past Tain's cluttered workstation. It looked to be a mix of model changing room and costume closet. Inside along the back wall was a rack of all manner of fantastical dresses and leather armor, and under it were boxes bristling with plaster scepters and resin crowns. Hollow swords and axes leaned drunkenly in the corners. Someone had hung a petrified flower crown over a double-headed ax. It looked so much like the back rooms of the Crooked Playhouse from Alvadas that the nostalgia bubbled up into a delighted laugh before Madeira could stop it herself.

Stepping out of her yellow dress she hung it on one of the racks, where she was both proud and miffed that it fit in so well with the elaborate costumes. Then setting her garment box down on a teetering stool she lifting the top and pulled out a shocking amount of purple taffeta and a silver crown. She felt strangely small once she had removed her jewels and placed them in the box, like their weight was the only thing keeping her from floating away. Shaking off the feeling, she wiped off her bright lipstick, revealing a bare pink lip, and affixed a delicate silver crown to her head. Last was the dress.

"Behave yourself", she whispered threateningly to the pile of taffeta as she stepped into it. The nature of the magical Party Dress was such that it changed itself completely to match the whims of the person wearing it. And the nature people was such that whims rarely repeated themselves. It took a lot of concentration to guarantee her wedding dress came out exactly as she expected it.

Somewhere between the time she stepped into the dress and pulled it up to her shoulders, it had changed completely. Suddenly it was as crisp and white as mountain snow, reaching from her wrists to the floor and sitting off the shoulder just low enough to display an eventual Cheva mark. The tight bodice flared out into a wide skirt, held in perfect form with hidden tulle. It was beautiful, classic in its simplicity, and Madeira hated it.

The worst of the Spiritist's eccentricities had been culled when it came to her choice of dress. Her fiancé had taken her aside to make sure of it. The Day of Discord was still in the hearts and minds of Lhavit, she had explained, and introducing a new Dusk in an extravagant, cumulus nightmare of a dress would not go over well. Keep the drama and the decadence to a minimum, Chiona had advised. As a member of the Towers and a public figure, it was important she followed the styles and traditions of the city she was marrying into.

"And for the love of gods, wear white."

"What kind of bride wears white to her own wedding?" Madeira had exclaimed, appalled.

The Spiritist had relented eventually. This party was as much about her acceptance into the Dusk family as it was about her adoption into the city itself as one of its people. She wasn't an Avalad anymore, she belonged to Lhavit, and it was important that she looked the part. And if that meant going to her own wedding looking like the virgin acolyte of the world's most boring god, so be it.

But not everything of the Spiritist's particular personality had escaped the Party Dress, it seemed. As she stepped out of the backroom she was surprised to see it light up like the second coming of Syna. Every beam of sunlight refracted off the dress and shattered in great kaleidoscopes of color off the studio walls and directly into the watering eyes of the artists just trying to get their work done. Reexamining the dress, Madeira realized it was studded with enough glittering glass beads and silver thread to possibly be seen from neighboring peaks.

Delighted by this development and unwilling to give up this selfish little bit of identity, Madeira met Lyra back at her station.

"How do I look?" she asked cheekily, unsubtly fishing for a compliment as she transitioning into a slow and graceful spin. What she really wanted to know was 'do I look like I belong here?'.

x