pocketful of glow-lights. [kev/isha]

[kevna]

Vanisha - Candidate

The dark eyed man looked away from her as she spoke, and seemed to lose himself in thought again, as if considering her words. He seemed so… weighed down. She wished she could lift the weight, or at least lessen it, but she had yet to even make him laugh. Young men were usually so much easier to please, but her success with him was limited to small smiles. Still… He remained. He could have chosen to leave but hadn’t. Either he was beyond polite, or in some small way he was enjoying her company as she was his. The silence had drawn out slightly, and respectfully she had waited, starting to think it had been an inappropriate question to ask of him. Was he regretting staying after all?

His halting words didn’t give her any comfort, and she felt a pit in her stomach. It was a shameful thing she had done, digging in such a manipulative way. She had thought herself *so* clever, when she had only been thinking of her own curiosity. In the end, her question hadn’t really gotten her anywhere either, so it had all been for naught. “I see.” She stated softly, even as she caught him appraising her again. Maybe there was more appreciation than she had thought before in his gaze. She dropped her own eyes, avoiding meeting his scrutiny with her blue eyes, and she carefully nodded her head elegantly. “A few times over the turns, portraits for my parents. Nothing too frequent, the freckles,” she brushed her hand gently over her cheek, “I was told made the portraits more difficult.” She tried to hide her embarrassment over her blotchy skin with a smile, ducking her head and allowing her hair to hide her skin better, as she took a sip of her klah. She knew it was uncomely, unladylike, but no matter how she had stayed out of the sun, they never seemed to dissipate, clinging to her skin. It was difficult to forget the dismay she had seen in the last artist’s eyes when he had seen who was to be his subject of focus, his comment about her freckles she was sure hadn’t meant to be rude, but it had still been painful.

Speaking of her horse and her mother was easier, less painful, or more painful but in a different way. This pain was a reminder of how she was slowly freeing herself, as best she could, a welcome pain in a way. This was the beginning of a transformation, if she was successful in impressing to a small dragonet.

Vanisha’s indulgent smile reserved for her mother flittered away, and she nodded, her normal smile back in place. “She is, thank you.” Here would have been the polite time to ask after his own mother, but the fact that he hadn’t brought her up when he had plenty of opportunity, and the way had quickly dismissed his hometown, made her pause. It was so difficult, wanting to get to know the man, but also wishing to keep him at ease. If there was some pain linked to home, she’d prefer not to poke at old wounds. She hated to see people in pain.

He seemed to accept her reasoning for leaving Morninglight behind, and she felt relieved. She didn’t like lying, but if he had continued to push for her to bring the mare, she was sure she would have given him some comment about doing her best to see it done. This was easier all the way around. Not having to bother her parents, not putting the poor mare in any distress with such a journey.

“Hmmm,” she mused softly, a twinkle in her eye, “Honestly, I’m unable to as well, as it still feels unreal to me.” She splayed her hands out and looked around briefly. It did all feel like a dream, and she was afraid she would wake up to disappointment. “I keep wondering if I will wake up and realize this has all been a dream.” Her eyes came back to him, and her soft grin was more genuine again, though just as short-lived as they segued into talk of possible riding lessons.

If he had pushed any further, she would have given in, helpless against her nature. As it was she felt guilty when he dismissed needing to ride. It brought her such pleasure, and in refusing to teach him, she was denying him that pleasure. She was tempted to disagree, to argue the necessity, though on an island he was quite correct, wasn’t he? And arguing would be unseemly. The walk was the least she could do for him, though she doubted it would absolve her of the guilt. “Of course, I would enjoy that, Parlhion.” And because an open-ended meet was looked down on, she braved ahead, denying the thoughts of strolling alone along the pens with a young man. He had been nothing but a gentleman so far. And she was a dragonrider candidate! She needed to focus on that. “Do you enjoy mornings or afternoons more? I have a rest day in a couple of days, and we can enjoy the sunshine before the snows start.” There was a risk of sounding too forward, but her guilt drove her.

[tovaana]

Parlhion;

His hands tightened on his mug when she spoke about her freckles and brushed at them lightly, as if she were conscious of them, or maybe the desire to wipe them away. His grip had tightened to hold back a strange desire to touch them too, though the ridiculousness of the desire was swept away – touch… he had hardly touched a soul in the past year or so. It just felt… right, to distance himself emotionally and physically. Before physical touch had come to him more naturally or casually, but now it felt too intimate, as if with a single touch someone would know his inner thoughts. With a duck of her head and a wave of red hiding more of her face, it seemed clear that there had been wherry-brained artists at her home that had made her feel that her freckles were an inconvenience, rather than something that marked her as unique and beautiful – in fact, he felt any artist should be honored with such a challenge.

His grip lightened, but his jaw was still tight with the burst of irritation at the thought of incapable artists. “If you were told that, then I’m afraid you never had a true artist do your portrait.” He said, his voice lighter than the tension in his jaw. “To be frank, it’s… been a while since I’ve done art and I’m trying to get back into practice… I’d be honored if you’d let me do full portrait, at no cost to you.”

Parlhion watched her curiously, she seemed to have more ‘life’ to her, so to speak, when she spoke about being a candidate. It must make her happy, even if he felt if it was a naïve happiness. Her last words had him glance down into the darkness of his klah. Or a nightmare. He added mentally, but didn’t want to weigh her down his with his own demons.

“Either works, copying texts for the harpers isn’t a very pressing matter, it makes my schedule flexible.” She mentioned snow, and it was the thought of doing her portrait surrounded in snow that distracted him that his schedule before had been that of a dragonrider. Fighting Thread, practicing fighting Thread, and squeezing in art between it all.

[kevna]

Vanisha - Candidate

Her eyebrows fractionally at the remark, her head following so she could see the speaker. She noted the tightness of his jaw and for some reason her heartrate picked up.

“To be frank, it’s… been a while since I’ve done art and I’m trying to get back into practice… I’d be honored if you’d let me do full portrait, at no cost to you.”

It had been a while? But he was an artist, she thought… Why would he need to get back into practice? She blinked, realizing he had asked to do her portrait. He wanted to paint her. She felt her cheeks heat, confused that he would want to, and feeling… Flattered. She didn’t often feel flattered, often she found herself just a spectacle; but his gaze was a different appreciation then she was used to. She imagined his dark eyes studying her for a long period of time, and her blush deepened. She could hardly refuse such a polite request. What could she say?

“I appreciate your frankness and I can hardly refuse such a generous offer… Thank you Parlhion.” She smiled softly at him, taking another sip of her klah before lacing her fingers before her to keep them from picking at her dress with nerves. It truly was a generous offer… She would revisit the matter of payment at a later date. At least payment for the materials seemed to be a fair trade.

She blinked, the only sign of her surprise. He was going to allow her to choose? But… Which did he prefer? Usually a man would just choose. She contemplated for a moment, then nodded. “Then, if it would please you, let’s walk in the afternoon. We can hope it will be warmer then.” She hoped he would take that well enough; he had left it up to her. The conversation continued, and all the while she watched this man who had let her choose when they would meet up, wondering all the while why.