Bare Your Insecurities [Z'kar]

[madb]

Liesol smiled as she thumbed absentmindedly through the pages of Z'kar's sketchbook. She was leaning against the wall of their weyr, months past the feeling of anxiety she'd felt when she'd arrived at Mavros. Unsure if she could offer anything to a dragon while she was a candidate. Unsure if she would be able to fit in with the other possible riders. Now here she was, with a lovely green friend who was always with her and always would be, and a not-dragon friend that had as much passion for art as she did.

Even if it... had taken them a while to act like friends? And they hadn't used the word yet, but even shy Liesol knew that at this point, they pretty much were. You could only have so many late night art talks with a person - particularly if you were both werylings and exhausted from all the work that entailed - and be ignorant to the fact that, yes, this was a very odd friendship but it was theirs, and it worked for them.

She traced the line of a figure he'd drawn, weighing it slightly against her own art out of bad habit, before correcting her mind into comparing it with real people. He had a very traditional sort of style, she wished to tell him that he should loosen up and let the movement and emotion take him instead of worrying overmuch about capturing it realistically - but Liesol wasn't sure how to bring that up without sounding as though she was attacking his style.

Instead, she turned the page. Her eyes went blank and her mouth dropped open.

She squeaked and threw the sketchbook near across the room, bringing her hands up to cover her suddenly red face.

Mine?! Somewhere, a young green awoke with a start. Are you unharmed? What has happened!

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to see it --" Liesol curled up closer into herself, as though becoming smaller would erase her embarrassment, "Not that I think its wrong! You can draw what inspires you! Oh, dear..." Her cheeks were burning up so badly, she thought she might be on fire!

Z'kar had nudes in his sketch book! if a thought could be a scandalized whisper, so this one sent to Hawedith would be.

Hawedith, of course, did not understand what 'nude' meant. Dragons, Lie supposed, always were nude. Which would explain when she attempted to communicate why this made her squeak, Hawey still seemed nonplussed. Of course dragons could not see the impropriety of it.

Liesol couldn't curl further into herself, but she wished she could, because surely Z'kar knew! And he knew that she had saw, and, oh, there was no way out of this...

[Zen]

Z'kar :: Blue Laverauth

Z’kar had been secretly rather pleased when the weyr assignments had been announced and he and Liesol had been assigned the same weyr. It would make sharing their passion for art all that much easier, and it indeed had so far. There was no more need for sneaking around when her cot was simply on the other side of the weyr, with no one but their dragons between them. Of course, he had been rather looking forward to getting a more private living area, rather than sharing it with someone, but if he had to share it, he supposed Liesol was an ideal choice.

They had a little down time and he had given her one of his sketchbooks to browse through. It was one that had been completely filled, but wasn’t too old as to be too outdated when it came to his style and ability. It was as he flipped through another of his sketchbooks and didn’t come across a certain number of drawing he was expecting to find that he felt the rather unfamiliar and very unwanted rise of panic. He turned around quickly, “Liesol-”

And then she was making high pitched noises and throwing his sketchbook away from her and he realized he was too late. He felt his face burning and found he couldn’t make his body work as he wished it to. His feet wouldn’t move toward the sketchbook lying on the floor between them, they wouldn’t move at all. And though he opened his mouth he could force out no sound for what seemed like turns as he watched the girl recoil in some mixture of horror and shame, or maybe those were only his feelings. It was hard to tell at the moment.

It was not often that Z’kar had ever been at a loss for words, he could count the number of times in his entire life on one hand, and it was not at all a pleasant experience. “L-Liesol… it’s not…,” he finally managed to force words from his mouth, though he as of yet could not seem to string them together into anything entirely comprehensible, “I don’t… I don’t just….” He waved his hand frantically and managed to take a step forward, and then another, until he was quickly gathering up the offending sketchbook that was at the very center of this awful, awkward situation.

“It’s not something I normally do!” he finally managed, perhaps a lot louder than he had originally intended, as if shouting it would make it more believable, “I-I swear! On Laverauth!” He clutched the sketchbook against him as if he could hide what had already been seen, still burning with embarrassment. Upon hearing his name, Laverauth lifted his head from where he lay on his stone couch, Whatever is all the commotion about, Z’kar? You’re disturbing my nap.

He mentally waved off his dragon, Just… don’t worry about it; go back to sleep. He felt his dragon’s affront at being so quickly dismissed, which he knew he would have to deal with later, but right now he was rather more concerned with the fact that Liesol had just found the drawings, or one at least, of one of the girls he had… had relations with. It hadn’t been a drawing anyone else was supposed to see, that was for sure. None of them were. All in all, if he remembered correctly, there were six or seven of them in that sketchbook, interspersed between other… more appropriate drawings. “They’re just…,” he trailed off; she had probably only seen the one, and now he’d insinuated there were more. Maybe she hadn’t caught it… she was clearly as flustered as he was.

“I mean… it’s…,” there was really no way to phrase it without making it sound… just… wrong. Not to mention how very personal it was. He had slept with those girls… and he really didn’t have any desire to discuss that fact with Liesol or anyone else. “She… she was… someone I… I was… we…. Shard it all,” he groaned, “She was beautiful, all right! Everything about her, just… I felt… compelled….” Yeah that didn’t sound completely creepy at all. “It’s like a sunset!” He latched onto the metaphor as soon as it occurred to him, desperately, “A once in a lifetime, beautiful sunset! The colors are more vibrant than anything you’ve ever seen and it’s almost surreal, you’re not sure if you’re awake or in a dream, and you know, you just know you’ll never see a sunset like it ever again, and you just have to capture it….”

He realized how pathetic he must look, he could feel the plea in his eyes as he stared over at her for her to understand and pleaseforFaranth’ssake move on and pretend this had never happened. But his metaphor had made sense, a lot, actually, to him anyway. And with something to explain why he had drawn something so… lewd… to explain it without making him sound like some sort of dirty lecher, he felt his panic beginning to subside, and some of his embarrassment, though his face still felt hot. His voice had returned to normal speaking levels as well, “Her shape, the smoothness of her skin, the way her hair fell and how the light hit it just right, and the expression in her eyes….”

He looked away, feeling awkward explaining how he felt when he drew one of the girls he had been with. There had been a couple that had refused him, when he’d asked if he might draw them in such a manner, which he had been prepared for, but the ones who had allowed it… they had always seemed so in awe of their own beauty when he had finished, for he drew them how he saw them, and they never seemed to see themselves in the same way that he did. His voice grew quieter, though the passion that was always there when he spoke of art was very apparent, “When something is beautiful beyond compare… I just can’t help but want to immortalize it, somehow….”

[madb]

Faintly, Liesol became aware of the fact that Z'kar was speaking. Peeking over her knees and through the shield she'd made of her arms, Lie watched with some level of horrified amusement - some part of her mind must have broken in shock and embarrassment, she simply wasn't one to find other people's struggles amusing! - as the young man stumbled over his words, stumbled over his feet, grabbed his sketchbook. 'The hysterics' mother had called them; the times when Liesol was so shocked or bewildered, that there seemed nothing left to do but to laugh.

Oh, he looked just as weirded out as Lie felt. And that was saying something, as Liesol was sure she was the color of redfruit. He was clutching his sketchbook with about as much white-knuckled passion as she was her knees.

Suddenly, disturbingly, Liesol became very, very aware that not only had she discovered drawings of. Of. People! In various intimate situations! But that - well, it was very likely that people who would allow themselves to be painted like that? Were possibly a bit. Intimate in nature in many ways. Liesol hadn't thought that she could feel any more ashamed, but now her stomach twisted itself into knots, and she was quite sure that if she was not curled around herself in a ball and resting against the wall of their shared weyr she would've plumb fainted!

Dizzy, Liesol tried to find the words to apologize. Her mouth moved to form the words but nothing but a thin breath escaped. She shut her mouth, shook her head, and buried her head into her lap as though hiding from view would make her invisible.

Oh, please. Please oh please. Let me disappear right here, let me sink into the ground, I've never asked for anything but this. In my life!

Though when she got this way, sometimes her head began to buzz and it was difficult to hear things, eventually what Z'kar was saying began to bleed through. Lie's eyes widened as he spoke of the woman in the sketchbook. A sunset? The poetry and romance in how he was describing this feeling which had lead him to sketching the - the, um, the lady - why, Liesol couldn't begrudge him any of this. She peeked over her knees again.

It was beautiful, what he was describing. Beautiful, and not unfamiliar - even if Lie had never sketched any nude women, oh no, this blush was not going to vanish anytime soon...

"Oh," she said, very softly.

She stood, almost in a trance, and stared at him. Then, without almost realizing it herself, she walked over to him and pressed her own hands over his where they held the sketchbook. Wide-eyed, she shook her head; "Oh, no, Z'kar that is beautiful! Everything you've said, why, I cannot believe a person could feel such things and not attempt to sketch. It would almost be a crime in itself if you hadn't. I..."

Suddenly she turned bright red again, as if she'd only just realized what she'd done. "I-I threw your sketchbook away, I'm so sorry. I wasn't expecting--"

Here, her voice went up a rather admirable pitch. She whispered "nudes", very very quietly, and then in a rush continued, rather earnestly; "but I think ladies are very lovely if you think of it the smoothness and roundness of a female shape lends itself so well to sensual art, and I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I was shamed by your work, honest, I didn't even get a good enough look to form any opinion!"

That was all in one breath and she was exhausted. She inhaled, eyes bright.

"Let me look again, please?" she said, a quiet kind of stubborn. "If you don't mind handing your sketchbook over to someone who was so rude with it, that is."

[Zen]

Z'kar

Hesitantly, he forced his gaze back to Liesol as she finally moved from her previously very stationary position, as though she had been trying to hide from what she’d seen… which had only made him feel worse about it all. He nearly flinched as she placed her hands over his, but then… it seemed his metaphor had gotten through. He relaxed a little as she spoke, feeling like maybe he wouldn’t come off as a complete pervert after all. Because he wasn’t. She went on in a bit of rush, clearly still as uncomfortable with this as he was, and he shook his head, making to take a step back and shove his sketchbook away somewhere she would never see it again, “It’s fine-….”

He stopped, staring down at her and feeling his face flame with another blush as she insisted upon taking another look. “Ah… you… want to…?” Was she… one of those girls? The kind that liked her own sex? Surely she wasn’t perverted in nature or she wouldn’t have had such a reaction to finding a nude drawing. His grip on his sketchbook tightened slightly and once again he found himself at a loss for words. Why did she want to see them? Was she just trying to make him feel better, somehow? Because she clearly hadn’t wanted to see them before.

“N-no… you don’t… you don’t have to… really,” he looked anywhere but down at her, feeling flustered all over again and not at all sure how to deal with it, “I’ll just… ah… just….” Set them on fire maybe so he’d never have to deal with anything like this again? But something inside him cringed at the thought of destroying those pictures, so no, that wasn’t an option at all. How could he have been so stupid, to hand her his sketchbook with his nude drawings in it? “They weren’t really… no one was suppose to see them… it’s just not… society doesn’t understand… so….” Now he was making himself sound like a creep again. The purpose of art was to be seen and appreciated by others. And yet society at large would not approve of images of nude women being displayed about in public places. And so he simply had his own private collection and thinking about it now there was no way it could be seen as anything but very, very strange.

He thrust the sketchbook hastily back into her hands, as if eager to prove he wasn’t just keeping the images to himself for some perverted reason no matter how uncomfortable it made him to openly share them with someone, “Here! Look then!” He threw his hands up in the air and started pacing in front of her, this situation so far beyond anything he was used to dealing with that he had about given up on salvaging it into something he could be in control of… no it had spiraled out of his control the moment Liesol had seen that image and there was no going back now. So what if she liked girls? Let her look, she could be the pervert then, not him. Or maybe they were both… just…. He found himself with his back pressed to the wall of the cavern and slowly slid down to sit, pressing the palm of his hand against his forehead and trying to wrap his head around just what was happening right now.

[madb]

“They weren’t really… no one was suppose to see them… it’s just not… society doesn’t understand… so….”

If it was possible for Liesol to flush further, she would have done so at this moment. Private! Of course it had been private. Not all art was meant to be shared, after all, and now she had gone and put her foot in her mouth by demanding that he give his private work back to her. To, what? Critique? Drool over? Liesol's stomach twisted in anxious, unhappy guilt.

When Z'kar thrust the sketchbook back at her, she nearly dropped it, and for a heartstopping second, fumbled before she managed to stop it from falling onto the cold stone floor. "Oh, no-no-nno, Z'kar, I'm sorry. I didn't think - I know p-private works are. I shouldn't have asked like that! I just--"

Suddenly, the second part of that sentence struck her, and Liesol frowned. That almost sounded like... like he wanted to share, but felt he couldn't, or rather shouldn't. Her apologies stopped as she adjusted to this idea. Which. Liesol couldn't really debate. She had been so shocked to see it! Lie had been surrounded by crafters all her life, so many artistic people, and many were very progressive. And she never knew any that had shared work this intimate. It wasn't as though she'd ever seen anyone show art that depicted women's bodies, but not without a cleverly placed curtain in the way, something sly and suggestive. Men, occasionally, were depicted from the waist up but never beneath that and, oh dear. To the point, Lie, she told herself, before she was utterly distracted.

"This isn't the same kind of society, Z'kar," She said, quietly. Public bathing, the overt sexuality that exuded whenever there was a Flight, the sheer and reckless openness of dragonriders... It had been so much for her to adjust to, herself, and it suddenly struck her that maybe she wasn't the only one who was having some trouble. "I'm sorry that I reacted like I did. That was very hold bred of me, I think, and we're-we're dragonriders now. Things are different."

She opened the sketchbook back to the page, and traced a considering finger along the soft curves of the woman's body. She could see now how Z'kar had managed to capture this stranger's beauty. The soft, self-content smile as her face was turned to the morning light. The feeling he had captured was painful awe, and a almost tragic yearning - it was, undeniably, a striking portrait that said almost as much about Z'kar's state of mind as it did the beauty of the subject as well. Undeniably gorgeous, and just a sketch.

"Oh, Z'kar, this is truly lovely work." Liesol looked up at him, and tilted her head to the side. She was still trying valiantly not to blush, but her words were genuine, "You s-should make a real painting of her, you've captured the feeling of longing so well. You really have."

"I mean! You don't have to. But it would be a shame to hide her away."

[Zen]

Z'kar

The waiting was nearly unbearable, but he waited, as Liesol cut off her fumbled apology and fell into a thoughtful silence. He waited with his back to the wall, staring pointedly at his knees, feeling his face burning with embarrassment. How could he have given her THAT sketchbook? All of this could have been avoided if he had been more careful, if he had just... double checked before he'd allowed her to go rifling through them.

He peered up at her as she spoke quietly, referencing that they lived in a Weyr now, and things were... very different here. It ruffled him that she seemed to be apologizing for being holdbred. While he hadn't actually been born to craft or hold particularly, he tended to consider himself as such, since he was most certainly not weyrbred. There was nothing wrong with it. Nothing wrong with keeping private things private instead of flaunting it all about for everyone to see.

But, as Liesol had said... they were dragonriders now. And things were different here. He watched her as she opened his sketchbook back to the page which was the reason for all of this mayhem. She seemed to consider it at a deeper level, taking a long moment to really take the image in as more than just a scandalous nude. He scratched the back of his head and looked away, still somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of anyone seeing such private images, but also... uncomfortable with how pleased he was to finally be able to show someone. Someone who could appreciate it for the art that it was, and would not simply gawk at it because it was a nude woman.

“Ah...,” he flushed a bit when Liesol suggested he actually paint her. He'd always longed to make such a work. It would take the beauty he was trying to capture to an entirely new level, to render it full color. But a painting was... a deal harder to conceal from prying eyes that would judge him wrongly, and... well... paint was too precious to waste on something you could not gift or sell or advertise with when it was your only source of income. Though he supposed, he was a dragonrider now. Art was not his only source of income. Perhaps....

He felt his face redden further at the idea. Could he paint her? Could he... display her, in his own private weyr? Well, he shared his weyr with Liesol of course but she... she was the one suggesting it.... And yet, what if someone were to visit them? What if they saw the painting and.... He rubbed both hands over his face. What on Pern... just what was he considering? Hanging nude paintings about his weyr? He let out a long sigh and pushed himself off the floor, moving over to Liesol's side. This conversation was... like no conversation he'd ever had in his life.

He looked down at the sketch, wondering just which one she had stumbled across. He couldn't remember which ones he had drawn and when until he saw them, but he could recall each of their names once he did. Maurina. She was the most recent that agreed to such a portrait, and the one that had seemed the most comfortable with it. It had in turn made him more comfortable drawing her, and he was sure hers was the best one he'd ever done for it. She had been exceptionally beautiful, and he was certain that he had only caught her attention because he was exotic, a traveler with stories to tell from all over the Northern Continent, and he had a rare skill she had wanted to take advantage of. He had not minded that she was only using him, for it had been mutual, and they had both gained something from it, an equivalent exchange.

He frowned slightly as he studied her form, wondering if he would miss it, the traveling. He had been altogether too concerned with caring for Laverauth to think much on it these past months, but he had ties now. He was tied to Mavros. He had never had such a thing before, a stationary place to call home, somewhere that he owed loyalty and had duties to uphold. Perhaps he would paint her. He would paint a great many things and grant Mavros some modicum of culture. The place was so drab and devoid of any sense of style or color, besides the dragons themselves. If he was going to live out his days here, he was going to have to see that change, and quickly.

“After we've graduated, perhaps,” he agreed at last, finding his voice once more, steadier and more confident, more himself. He had not had much time for painting between caring for Laverauth and all their weyrling lessons and chores. He had only been sketching for months now. He missed it, but he was not going to attempt to capture Maurina's beauty in color until he had painted a few other works first, to ensure he was fit to render her properly after going so long without. He raised an eyebrow at her, “You wouldn't mind...? An image like that... here, I mean. In our weyr.” She had said it would be a shame to hide her away. He could only assume she meant for him display her here.

[madb]

Liesol flushed. "I, I don't mind. In an artist way or - or in a. I like girls, too." She dropped her head in her hands, cheeks flaming red. She couldn't remember ever saying that outloud! To anyone! "I like, um, girls and boys. I like them both. So I um -- "

Her sentence ended in an ungraceful stumble.

Ah, and she thought she'd moved past the part of the conversation where she wished the floor would swallow her whole.

Mine? Hawey, bless her, sensed her distress and sent a curl of questioning thought her way. It was comforting even if the dragon couldn't really understand what had thrown Lie further into distress. Oh, she really, really hadn't thought the conversation would take this turn. But maybe it was strange that she was so appreciative of his sketches?

Or maybe she had just wanted to tell a friend, finally. And all this talk about weyr society being different from hold and hall... it had given her a little steel in her spine. Liesol was curled on the floor, knees pressed close to her chest, head in her hands to shield her from whatever Z'kar's reaction was. But- but- she could be brave. She was Hawey's rider, after all. She could face her friend.

Lie opened her mouth, suddenly dry. She felt like her throat was constricted. "I think your art is beautiful, and, I think she must have been a wonderful woman. I think I might be, um, jealous a little. Of your life. Before you came here? Z'kar, I never stepped outside of my mother's shadow and you were-- you--"

She gestured to the sketch, words failing her for a moment. Overwhelmed, she managed to squeak out, "I hope this doesn't change anything because you're my closest friend here and I'd miss you."

That was somehow even more embarrassing. She wasn't even sure if Z'kar had ever used the word 'friend' to describe them, how awkward.

[Zen]

Z'kar

Z'kar hadn't exactly been expecting Liesol to suddenly confess her... romantic preferences to him. He flushed a slight red himself at her admission and held up his hands as if to stop her. And suddenly the girl seemed to just fold up on the floor like she was trying to close herself off from everyone and everything. From him. He was trying to decide just what he should do when more words tumbled out of her mouth, high pitched with anxiety.

She was... jealous? Well he couldn't exactly blame her for feeling that way. He had led a pretty interesting life. He certainly had nothing to complain about, not really. He got to travel and do earn his living doing something he loved. He might miss his mother on occasion, but she had died turns ago and he wasn't one to dwell on the loss at this point in his life. His father might not have entirely approved of his favorite subject to paint, but it had been easy to ignore the man's disdain for dragons. His art took him places, geographically and socially, and he had grown used to having plenty of envious glares thrown his way when pretty local girls clung to his arm, enamored by his skill and the stories he had to tell from his travels. He was someone to be jealous of, and he was quite proud of that fact.

But it did make him realize that he really didn't know a whole lot about Liesol before the two of them had met up on the cliffs of Mavros. Normally he didn't particularly care. He enjoyed talking about himself, of course. He would listen politely when those in power talked about themselves, when he wanted something from someone, but he never cared what they had to say. It was just a formality. He never really stopped to wonder, either. There were few people that seemed as if they had anything truly interesting to say, as far as Z'kar was concerned. So it was curious that he was suddenly wondering about Liesol's past, at her mention of never stepping out of her mother's shadow.

And it was less embarrassing to think about than the fact that she'd just told him that she was attracted to her own sex. So when she rounded the conversation back to her admission, Z'kar's hands fluttered as if trying to it brush away again. “Liesol, I don't care....” He realized that his tone made that seem altogether rude, perhaps even hostile, which wasn't his intention, “No, I ah... I.... It's not that I don't care, but I.... I mean I don't mind.... It doesn't matter....” Growing more and more disgusted with himself for his complete and utter lack of eloquence as he continued to stumble over his words just as badly, if not more so, than Liesol had, he forced himself to stop talking and took a deep breath to calm himself down. This was ridiculous.

“Who you choose for... for a bed partner is no concern of mine. Just... just keep it to yourself like any normal, civilized person,” he said at last, in exasperation. Private matters should stay just that, private. While it made him somewhat uncomfortable to think about those that were attracted to others of their sex, it really, ultimately, didn't matter to him at all so long as no one was trying to rub his nose in it. After all, he didn't go about shoving his own sexual exploits into people's faces, and he expected the same courtesy to be shown to him. And no, sharing appreciation for the beauty of the female form with someone was NOT the same thing, thank you very much.

It struck him all of a sudden that she had called him her closest friend. Here, at least, at Mavros. He studied her for a long moment, rolling that over in mind. Was that what they were, friends? He had really never had any, not as most people would define them, anyway. He moved around far too much to ever develop anything more than the shallow acquaintances he had ever cultivated. Appearances and first impressions had meant so much more to him, because he had so little time to judge others on anything else. It had become all that really mattered to him when he looked for new 'friends' in a new place.

Liesol was... not someone he would have normally approached, or even deigned to interact with at all unless she had expressed interest in his work. Which, he supposed, she had. Up on those cliffs, she had found him painting and had actually made intelligent conversation over it. Something few people seemed to be capable of. Most could barely do more than 'ooh' and 'ahh' and say something about the 'pretty colors'. Ugh. Simpletons. And he had to humor them all too, hoping to earn a few marks off the dull interaction that left him all too unimpressed with his fellow man. Liesol managed to engage him, and actually restored some of his faith in humanity's collective intelligence. And so, he was not entirely averse to calling her 'friend'. He held out his hand to help her up, “Liesol, get off the floor. It's unbecoming.”

[madb]

It helped that Z'kar was very, very clearly as uncomfortable with this as Lie was. She was pretty sure that they were both hoping to move on for this, as quickly as possible. It might strike others at odd, but Liesol wasn't offended by Z'kar's remarks at all. She took comfort that he sounded pretty much like... well, like Z'kar. If he had been more polite, she might have thought that he was pretending he was ok with it - it wouldn't have sounded like him at all. By the time Z'kar asked her to keep it to herself like any normal, civilized person, Lie had managed to relax.

“Oh I definitely agree with that!" Liesol said, relieved. "I don't want to share any of that with you. This - this is as much. This is too much already."

Then, Z'kar went quiet for a moment, and her nerves started itching again. Lie wasn't exactly sure what he was reacting to, though she really did believe him that he wasn't concerned about her private matters. She could guess, then, that it had been to that embarrassing remark about friendship. Lie tried not to crumple, having been so sure that even if they hadn't said as much between them, this was surely a friendship. The strongest one she'd ever really had. But it was possible that he didn't feel that way and - well. Lie hadn't had too many friends, ever, and maybe they weren't that close yet. Not many people wanted to be friends with her. She was too neurotic and anxious and, honestly, kind of a bore sometimes.

You are the best friend. You are my friend, I like you, and I am the best. Which means you are the best!

Aww, Hawey, dear. Liesol wondered what this would have been like before Impressing. Somehow, even just having Hawey made her feel a little better.

Thankfully, she didn't have to worry if she was going to do something silly like cry, because Z'kar just ignored it and offered her a hand to help her stand. Lie beamed up at him, unable to tone it down. She was familiar enough with him to realize that he would have shot it down if he didn't agree. He liked her! Or, at least, tolerated her. Lie knew it all along. "

Thank you," she said, standing up gracefully with his help.

Emboldened by this, and wishing to move past it at the same time, Lie hurriedly moved to a new subject. She opened the infamous sketchbook to a few of the earlier pages, and held it out for him to see.

"Oh, we really should get back to the critique though. Everything else aside, Z'kar, I thought. Well, don't take this the wrong way. But, um, I had thought a few of the sketches in this book were sort of, stiff? And, especially seeing the girl - she seemed so natural - I think maybe I have some ideas? If you are open to it, of course."

She smiled. "Um. I would be pleased if you had any thoughts on my own sketches. As always." She was genuinely in good humor at the thought: Z'kar was one of the few people that she knew, having left the hall, to provide engaging and thoughtful critique.