• Closed • Works of Art

[Elyna]

78th Ashan 716

Elyna gripped the green skirts tight enough to make the wrinkle, and she stomped, in her boots, all the way up through low-town and most of the way through the midtown during the 9th break of the day. Her hair, loose trailed down her back in unruly waves having been washed the trial before and dried in her sleep overnight. She’d almost forgotten the demand her mother had made on her time, almost, but no quite. Caelan had commissioned a sculpture. The thought of it made Ely want to vomit, but it wasn’t in her power to decline. If her mother wanted a sculpture, her mother wanted a sculpture. Given her parent’s recent ire and frustration, the noblewoman had made an effort with her appearance. Well, she’d washed and she was wearing a dress. She was confident that there wasn’t any straw in her hair at least.

So she climbed up to the Burhan house at the very edge of midtown- bordering the crown. It was a tall, narrow building and she was ushered in by a woman her own age, a slave. Her dark hair was pulled back with a neatness that Elyna could only envy, her name was Inam and she had a handsome face with a peaked nose. Most of all, she was efficient and shooed Elyna into a room at the back of the house, a bright solar that looked out in the garden, with the morning light spilling in. The hallways they walked through had wooden floors that gleamed with varnish, and the skyrider was painfully conscious of the dirt that her boots left smeared in her wake, and the squeak of her soles on the floor. The house was deathly quiet, with only the distance sounds of plates and cutlery being collected. That was a relief. It meant Pavoo was at the Crown and her Mother was no in residence, nor were her grandparents. Her father would avoid her whenever he could, it was a sentiment that was shared.

Elyna sat down on the offered chair with a sigh. The artist hadn’t arrived yet. Maybe she had had time for breakfast. Her stomach rumbled and was met with a disproving look. Before Elyna could protest the glance though, she turned to look out at the garden, boarded by trees and high hedges for privacy. She propped her chin in her hand and rested her elbow on the side of the chair, thinking wistfully of the breaks she would waste, here, instead of in training. Her heart ached, how had something so wonderful soured so fast? It had been a similar time in the morning that she’d visited Malcolms house the day before and he’d fallen to his knees at her feet. He was devastated, his heart had been broken. He hadn’t intended to hurt her… but his pain had stung. Her thoughts, drifted inevitably back to Krom and the night Simon had died. Her lips parted in memory before she bit down hard on her cheek. No. What was done was done. The door was closed. She’d shut it.

[Tristan Venora]

Tristan almost hadn’t accepted the commission. He hadn’t liked the sound of the letter that had arrived at his place a few trials before at all. Lady Burhan wanted to have a sculpture of her daughter made, and she had not failed to mention how beautiful the woman was. Elyna Burhan was twenty-five, just a little older than him and still unmarried, just like him. He had absolutely no interest in a wife, damn Lady Burhan and Elyna Burhan - and his mother as well!

He had only decided to meet Elyna after all because he really needed to pay the rent. His parents had decided that he should live on his own, experience the life of a commoner for a while and so on which meant that if he didn’t earn any money, he would starve. They had made it very clear that they would not help him if he ever ran out of money. But of course they still insisted on telling him how he should live his life and always looked at him like that when the newest rumors about him reached their ears.

And then there was of course also the fact that refusing a fellow noble house was always a little problematic. He felt quite trapped and desperate as he made his way through the streets of Andaris to the address that had been given in the letter. He hoped, against all odds, that the meeting would be short and painless and that he would be able to go back to his questionable friends and his even more questionable lovers soon. He really missed the company of a certain somebody.


Despite the fact that he was not particularly eager about the job, Tristan had taken great care of appearance, because he was simply too vain to do anything else and let himself go like his cousin Andráska, even if it might have worked in his favor in that case. He wore the same fine black suit he had worn to the family gathering, with a silk shirt underneath and boots that had been polished until they shone. He had even tied his somewhat unruly hair back and shaved. If he was going down, he would at least go down in style!

He stopped in front of the house for a moment and looked at it, deciding that it was quite nice as far as houses went, before he went in and asked where Lady Elyna was. A servant pointed him in the direction of the solar at the back of the house. He hesitated in front of the door for a moment to check if he had all the tools he needed with him before he knocked, one, twice, three times. If Elyna answered, he would enter, bow elegantly and introduce himself, because he would never behave badly, no matter how reluctant he was.

“Lady Elyna Burhan? I’m Tristan Venora, the sculptor your mother hired to make a sculpture of you.” He smiled at her, a most charming smile, and his eyes shimmered brightly. Tristan was quite proud of his acting skills. Maybe he should consider a change of jobs sometimes in the near future!

[Elyna]

78th Ashan 716

Elyna watched the light falling through the dappled trees and her attention drifted along with the morning. She even managed to forget why she’d bene so distastefully summoned to the house of her heritage. It was the final knock on the door that saw her leaping to her feet and sprinting across the room, rudely returned to the present. She opened the door with more force than was strictly ladylike and stood, blinking for a moment as the young man bowed.

A full bit passed before she blinked once more and sank into a dutiful curtsy, even remembering to bow her head. She silently congratulated herself that she didn’t stumble of simply fall flat on her face as she straightened, “good morning,” she offered a smile that failed to reach her eyes. A polite gesture as she eyed the young man with an expression approaching suspicion, it was then that she remembered his name and tagged it quickly into the end of her words, “Tristan,” she cleared her throat, “good morning my Lord Tristan,” she tried again and stepped back, gesturing for him to enter the sun-lit solar. As she stepped to the side the lump of grey stone, set upon a sturdy pedestal.

She edged back, pushing her fingers through her hair, loosening it against her scalp “I…assume you received a summons from the Baroness?” The skyrider asked, she wasn’t working and so her tone was quieter. Why was trying to be polite so darned difficult? The young woman was quick to size him up as an opponent. A bad habit she knew, but one she was yet to break. It was still the easiest way she’d found to judge new people. See them as a potential aggressor. Could she take him out? Probably. Some of the tension eased from her shoulders and she tilted her head to one side. His face was clean, flushed with youth. He reminded her of her older brother, of how he’d looked when they’d been younger. Barely more than children, a faint smile pulled at her features, distant.

[Tristan Venora]

“Good morning”, Tristan also said, somewhat belatedly as he approached Elyna. He moved with a slight spring in his step, as if he was incredibly happy to be there, as if he didn’t care about the ever present threat of an arranged marriage at all. Elyna Burhan was quite appealing, he observed, but she didn’t seem to be as refined and obsessed with etiquette as his cousin Zvezdana which he quite liked, since he had never cared about those stuck up noble ladies. Maybe, he thought hopefully, this here would be tolerable, to some extent at least.

“I received a summons from the Baroness, yes”, he said and pulled his gaze away from Elyna to inspect the stone, letting a slender, long fingered hand run across it as he did so. It was exactly what he had asked for. They had at least listened to him. “I was surprised since I only graduated from the University of Rynmere very recently, although my professors praised my talent of course.” He looked up again and sat his bag down on a nearby table, smirking slightly as he did so. Humility had never been his forte. Since he had been a small child he had been told what a talented artist he was and was thus unable to consider himself anything but perfect. “Did she mention to you why she hired me, of all the sculptors in Andaris?”

“Did you ever sit for somebody before, Lady Elyna?” he wanted to know as he opened his pack and arranged a number of chisels and hammers that were all shaped slightly differently in front of him, followed by pitching and tracing tools. “And who will the sculpture be for, if you don’t mind the question? Will it be a gift?” He had finished unpacking, closed his bag again and put it under the table. Now he was simply looking at her questioningly. By the Seven, he had thought that he had a lot of experience when it came to such situations and that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that would make him uncomfortable, but right now he felt a little like a fish out of water!

[Elyna]

Elyna scratched the back of her neck, forcing a smile. The Baroness was a hard woman to refuse, Elyna knew; she’d tried and succeeded at least once in her 25 arcs so far. She was surprised by his confidence, he didn’t act like a man so recently graduated, or perhaps he really that good an artist. She’d always assumed artist were slightly…weak. Caught up in their own various neurosis, perhaps he was just pretending to be brave. The final thought softened her features further and she relaxed a mote more.

Bravado seemed more likely, “I’m sure you came very highly recommended,” the smile she offered was genuine and she climbed onto the stool set out for her in the center of the tiled floor. It was tall enough that the tips of her feet brushed the bottom so she lifted her knees and curled her toes around the bar, balanced. Kindness didn’t have to come at a cost to dignity. Where had she learnt that from? Had someone said that to her once? She wasn’t sure, but wasn’t confident to claim the thought as all her own.

So many questions. She pressed the top of her tongue against her front teeth, almost biting it as she considered her answers. Finally she lifted both shoulders and shrugged, “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“I also received a summons...and here I am. I have, however, a horrible suspicion that my gracious Mother intends for your artwork to be displayed at Burhan, if not in the entrance way here – not that it would be horrible for your work to be displayed-” she hastened to add, “I’m sure it’ll be very good, I just…” she lifted her shoulders again, hands outstretched with palms up.

The Skyrider just couldn’t think of anything worse that having to walk past her own face whenever she came to the house, or went back to Burhan. Not that she had any intention of doing either with any regularity. But you never knew what the future held.

[Tristan Venora]

„Oh“, Tristan made as Elyna voiced her suspicion that her mother intended for his statue to be displayed at Burhan. His mother didn’t have any statues of him standing around at the family residence, but on the other hand he was pretty sure that Aunt Willow kept statues of her children somewhere, especially of Alistair and Zvezdana (he still didn’t know how his aunt had come up with that name!) who were perfect in her opinion.

“You are a beautiful woman of course, but why would your mother want to keep a statue of you around? Is she forgetful and needs a reminder of what you look like? Or does she want to brag about her daughter in front of visitors?”

“Anyway, we’d better get started”, he remarked and shook his head, trying in vain to dispel all those strange and vaguely unpleasant thoughts that were going through his head right now. Maybe, he thought, none of his suspicions would come true if he only concentrated on his work hard enough and tried to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Blushing slightly, the young man turned to inspect the chisels that he had laid out on the table and picked one a long and rather hefty one that had a point on one end and a broad striking surface on the other hand. “Could you please sit still while I’m working?” he asked as he pulled a pair of leather gloves out of his left pocket and put them on. They would at least offer some protection against accidental cuts. “You may of course talk. In fact I wouldn’t mind at all as it would make my work a little less monotonous.”

Having that said, he picked a hammer and positioned the chisel at about a fourty-five degree angle, compared to the stone before he started to knock off rather generous portions here and there, occasionally looking up at Elyna as he did so. Soon dust and smaller and larger pieces of stone were flying in all directions. “I need to determine the general shape of the statue first”, he explained in case she was interested in his work and struck the end of the chisel with the hammer again. “This is the easiest and fastest part. It will only get complicated once I have to start working on your face.”

“Faces are tricky”, he said, looked at Elyna and smirked, wondering how he would best go about capturing her personality. He didn’t want to make another cold and expressionless statue. “Although you do have an interesting face of course, Lady Elyna.”

[Elyna]

Elyna opened her mouth to answer, before closing it again. She was fairly sure it was the later. That her mother wanted to brag, or rather have something in order to prompt a conversation and display. A beautiful daughter, a daughter without a husband. The skyrider settled on the seat and fidgeted, trying to get comfortable. It was a strange sensation, to be under such scrutiny as the chisel started to block out parts of the sculpture. She twisted her fingers in her lap, attention drifting.
The compliments paid caused small, polite smiles in response and she fussed with her skirts, unable to remain still for very long, “why stone?” She asked after a pause, she lent to one side to watch him. If she was going to be sat here, she hated to be idle.

“Hang on,” she hopped off the stool and collected her small bag, pulling out a lucette and a thin skein of embroidery thread. Returning to the seat she settled once more, spinning the smooth carved wood in her fingers to warm it. It was then she looked down, concentrating for a few moments on looping the thread over one hook, twisting it in a figure of eight around the second prong and back and forth, tying knots until the thread was started. She straightened then and set her shoulders back, she could talk, and sit up and even smile, with her hands busy working back and forth on the lucette.

“So why stone,” she prompted again, “why not wooden sculptures? Wouldn’t they have more warmth and life?” She’d always thought of stone as a cold substance, but his tools moved quickly sending up a small cloud of dust. A small grin pulled at her mouth as she noticed it settling on his arms and boots, no longer an immaculate appearance.

Her hands paused in her work, “you don’t mind if I do this?” she lifted the wooden peg after a moment, realising she probably should have taken permission first, “I just…I’ve never been much good at sitting still.

[Tristan Venora]

„Because …“ Tristan started to answer, but then Elyna just jumped off her stool which left him without a model. He didn’t really mind though. If he had been in her place, he wouldn’t have been able to sit still for more than a few bits either. While she retrieved her bag, Tristan brushed the dust off his clothes and removed a piece of stone that had gotten stuck in his hair. He looked at it with amusement for a moment before he tossed it into a corner and grabbed his chisel and his hammer again. Stone, he decided, did not make for a good hair ornament.

“Because wood is less durable than stone”, he answered Elyna’s question. “Besides, your mother ordered a stone sculpture. She probably thinks it’s more appropriate for a noble household and more elegant. I could have argued with her, of course, but …” He shrugged his shoulder and smiled apologetically. “… I’m not sure if it would have helped. Your mother seems to be a very strong-willed woman, just like aunt Willow. Duchess Venora”, he explained before he turned back to his work as he wasn’t being paid for talking, but for sculpting which was unfortunate, since he quite enjoyed talking.

“No, I don’t mind”, he said while he worked on what would be the sculpture’s head. Elyna could see that it was beginning to look round now, although it was of course still lacking eyes, a nose, a mouth and other such things. “What are you making?” He briefly looked up, at that thing in her hands. He didn’t know what it was called, but he remembered seeing his mother use something quite similar once. She absolutely loved embroidery, knitting and such and insisted on filling the whole house with her creations.

He watched Elyna for a few moments, secretly thinking that he could never do that – it looked really complicated - and then he took a different chisel that was more wedge-shaped and had a broad, flat edge. For quite some time the only sounds that could be heard were those of the hammer and the chisel, loud and somewhat monotonous. The sculpture began to look more and more like a human being, with a torso, arms and legs.

After what seemed like an eternity Tristan abruptly put his tools aside, took his gloves off and tossed them onto the table. He stood straight, stretched his back and shook his arms that had begun to hurt just a little bit. For a few moments the sound of the hammer still echoed inside his head, but fortunately it passed soon. By the time he was done, he thought, he’d probably have a headache. That was one thing he disliked about his job. It was noisy.

“How does it look?” he wanted to know and gestured towards his masterpiece in progress. From the look on his face – very self-confident and with a wide smile – he expected some sort of compliment. “If you want to stretch your legs or get something to eat or drink, now would be the best time to do so. It’s about to get complicated.” Tristan himself retrieved a bottle from his bag, opened it and sat down on the table rather than on a chair like a proper, well-mannered nobleman, taking a swig as he did so.

“You know what I’ll do now?” he asked after he had had his much needed break and was a little less thirsty. “I’ll make a clay model of your upper body, just some sort of bust. I’ve finished the groundwork, and I have a good idea of what I want to do, but I still need to add the details, and I think I’ll be doing the both of us a favor if I don’t force you to sit here for a couple of trials and get bored. It’ll be almost as good as having the real Lady Elyna here. I’ll even give you the clay model as a gift if you want to.”

He grinned and produced a box that contained – surprise! – a lump of clay. “This clay here has been mixed with oil so that it won’t dry out”, he explained as he put the lump of clay in question onto the table and started molding it into a round shape. “Would you please look directly at me now? I promise it will be over soon and then you can go back to whatever it is that you do when you are not forced to sit still so that a man you have never met before can make a statue of you for your esteemed mother. What exactly is it that you do anyway?”

[Elyna]

Elyna held back her smile, arguing with her mother was like arguing with a mountain; pointless. But it would be rude for her to say something so openly. Instead she lifted up the fork of wood, “it’s just a braid,” she explained, “usually used to make a fasten for shirts, or dresses…anything really that needs something stronger than thread to hold it together. But you wouldn’t want rope or string holding your shirt together,” she demonstrated the twisted strand of colour, turning the soft skein over between her thumb and forefinger.

The young woman settled, staring at the middle distance behind his head as her thoughts took her far away. Hands still busy with her braid they flew back and forth winding the thread in a figure of eight and then pulling over the loops to tighten the tiny knot. The braid she created slowly edged out. Her rogue thoughts, as always returned to the man she now knew to be a Mortalborn; Malcolm. It wasn’t comfortable to think about him, because what did she know really? His father was an immortal, which one? How could he do such amazing things? He’d healed her bruises and wounds completely, but it had hurt him. Inevitably her thoughts skipped to much later in the night, when they’d both been consumed by passion. It had been a bad idea; but she still couldn’t regret it. Even now, when things were so tangled between them…

She blinked, realising that Tristan had stopped in his work and set her own work aside. Surprised at the length of braid she’d managed to work between her fingers. She tied it in a knot and pulled it free of the contraption. The Skyrider stretched out, reaching her arms above her head before shaking her shoulders to loosen the muscles that had stiffened down her spine, “thank you,” she grinned and took the chance to leave the room, returning with a platter of fruits which she offered to the young man, a glass of water caught in her grip. She sipped it as she studied the sculpture, head tilted to one side as she did, trying to imagine the shape it would end in.

“It is very good,” she murmured and reached out, brushing a fingertip over a rough surface, “I think I like it like this,” she grinned, “all raw and not really looking like me,” she laughed, “though I’m sure that is not what the Baroness intends.”

A clay model? Elyna returned to her stool, taking another slow sip of water before holding the glass with both hands, resting it against her lap, “I’m a Skyrider,” she explained with a glance at the heavens through the window, “the dresses and the hair…” she lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “but for the purpose that they want this sculpture, I didn’t fancy the fallout from turning up with straw in my hair, or covered in sand from the training ground,” she offered another grin, “I think, really that this is going to be an advertisement…and honestly, what nobleman would want a warrior for a wife? Though…if you wanted to add some disfiguring scars or broken bones, I’d be grateful…” she ran her fingertips down the bridge of her nose. Every day she was amazed it wasn’t broken – yet.

Her mother would want his head though, if he accepted her playful request.

[Tristan Venora]

„Thank you“, Tristan said as Elyna offered him a platter of fruits. His hand hovered over the platter for a moment as he wondered what he should pick before he finally decided on an apple that looked particularly appealing. “That’s most appreciated. I forgot to pack something to eat.” He took a few big bites out of the delicious, juicy fruit. As he noticed that Elyna inspected his work of art, he tilted his head a little to the side and regarded her with an amused expression on his face. “I could leave it like that if you want to, although your dear mother probably wouldn’t be pleased”, he offered.

“A Skyrider?” he repeated, unable to conceal his surprise. He had expected her to be a lot of things, but definitely not that. “I thought you would be doing some sort of cliché job such as - I don’t know - something with fashion or politics. If I absolutely had to get married, I’d rather marry a warrior than some sort of stuck up noble lady that is afraid of breaking a finger nail.” He shuddered. “I’m sure there are some men in Andaris that would agree with me.”

It was just then that he remembered again why he had been so worried about meeting Elyna. But no, it was unlikely that she would be his future wife. His parents wouldn’t pick a woman like that for him, no matter what kind of family she came from which was actually somewhat unfortunate. Somebody like Elyna would be preferable to a stupid woman that wasn’t capable of anything besides looking pretty and giving birth to child after child.

Of course he’d much rather not get married at all …

“I could also add a few disfigurements”, he remarked and continued to work on the lump of clay. His touched the nose he had just shaped as if he wanted to break it – or tear it right off. “But I don’t think your mother would pay me if I did, and I need the money as much as I hate to admit that. If you were to give me a few nels though, I could be persuaded to do something that would make your mother seethe with rage.” He waited for her answer before he continued his work, occasionally looking up and grinning at her as if he were waiting for her to tell him to do some mischief. Before too long a clay face was looking at Elyna. Unlike the statue it actually resembled her, as far as Tristan was concerned, as much as a lump of clay could resemble a living person.

“I think I’m done for today”, he remarked as he put the finishing touches on the model and smoothed a few edges here and there and adjusted its cheeks somewhat because they had looked a little too puffy. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his hands that had gotten a little dirty. “I can do the rest of the work without you, although you are of course always welcome to check on my progress, if you want to.”