• Graded • Strange Color Blue

[Yrmellyn Cole]

Strange Color Blue

Trial 25 of Culys Arc 717
Continues from here

It was in the apartment in Andaris where the painter Yrmellyn Cole lived. The apartment was sparsely furnished, not only because the painter was poor, but also because there hadn’t been any need of more furniture. A bed, a table, a couple of chairs, a fireplace, a small set of utensiles...the apartment held the bare essentials of everyday life, and she needed nothing more. The shallow desires of her past had peeled off as art and magic had become her main pursuits.

Today she was going to keep her promise to Saeri LaChasse (and to the immortal Vhalar) and paint the blue knight’s portrait. She hadn’t seen the eídisi after their visit in Water Street, but knowing that Saeri lived in I room in the barracks, the painter had written a message and sent the street child Rudi to deliver it. He had carried an answer back to her and today’s meeting had been arranged.

Yrmellyn's letter

Saeri hadn’t arrived yet, but Yrmellyn wasn’t totally alone in the apartment. Her neighbor the barmaid worked late hours and slept in the days, and her cat Webster had taken to come and mewl outside the painter’s door instead of it’s real home, and she used to let it in, partly in order to make the golden red animal shut up and partly because she liked it.

She could understand that Webster might want to move. The few times Yrmellyn hadn’t been able to avoid visiting the neighbor’s apartment she had seen that it was the miserable mess of a drug junkie. The cat seemed to mostly provide for itself and not get much attention from its real owner, so no wonder it had started to mewl outside a new door. Now when the street child Rudi was often there, the cat seemed even more determined to move in permanently. The two of them were currently on Yrmellyn’s bed. The boy had been allowed to borrow Yrmellyn’s thick book named “The Forgotten Secrets of Alchemy” and he lay on his stomach with the book in front of him, silently watching the illustrations. The cat lay beside him, seemingly asleep.

Yrmellyn’s three legged easel stood on the floor and a canvas mounted on a light frame of wood sat on it ready to be used. The table was full of painting utensiles. When Yrmellyn worked outdoor and with motifs she found ad hoc she often used dry oil color crayons, but for this portrait she would paint with brushes and liquid colors. Small metal boxes no bigger than eggs held the color pigments and she had the oil and turpentine and rags and other necessary things for painting. Exactly where in the room, and how, in which position she was going to paint Saeri LaChasse remained to be seen. The painter would try this out in practice when the eídisi arrived.

A cozy fire kept the apartment warm and nice and helped lighting it up. The darkness of Culys made it impossible to paint outdoors, so Yrmellyn had borrowed a collection of lanterns from people in the house where she lived. It was lanterns of metal, as people here were working class and not into wasting money on fragile lanterns of glass. Why buy something that could so easily break, when you could buy a safe and sturdy lantern of metal? Yrmellyn agreed with them from a practical point of view, but from an artist point of view lanterns made of glass or crystal had an allure the metal couldn’t compete with.

A knock on the door told her the motif had arrived.

She opened it, greeted the eídisi and let her in.

[Yanahalqah]

Yrmellyn Cole had promised her a painting, something which she had insisted on without Yana even really bugging her for one. In fact, Yana wasn’t too sure if she actually wanted a painting, but the painter herself had pretty much decided that, yes, she did. The Yludih would have preferred money, but she was fairly sure that the painter was poor as dirt. Also, Yrmellyn Cole never stopped talking, it seemed, especially so when the subject was art, and had expressed her desire to paint Yana’s portrait more than a few times during their first encounter.

To be honest, the false Eídisi had nearly groaned when the street-rat Rudi came deliver a message from his new art teacher. She found it exhausting to be around the painter, and now they would not be in a tense and potentially dangerous situation that would keep the woman’s mouth shut. No, this time Yana would be out of her element and subjected to the whims of the painter, and she really was not sure if she could handle that.

Nevertheless, she did show up at the agreed time, knocking on the apartment door, taking note of the rather … well… ungracious living conditions. Sure, it wasn’t the worst of the worst, but even when compared to the barracks, Yana thought this was pretty bad. She had a moment to let her mind drift off before the door was opened and the dreaded creature smiled at her excitedly, greeting the Yludih with a sort of genuine friendliness that was just plain odd. Yana entered the humble abode, letting her eye roam the furnishings and occupants.

There was Rudi, of course, but next to him was a cat. It was quite a surprise, really, the painter did not seem wealthy enough to provide for herself, the street rat, and a cat at the same time. Perhaps that was why she needed to live in a place like this. That, or maybe her experimental art and alchemy technique had not been worth the time, money and effort at all, driving her career even further into the ground. She couldn’t be sure, and frankly, she did not really care either.

It seemed the room had been fully prepared for the occasion, something the practical minded Yludih could appreciate. That would hopefully cut the time she had to spend inside this room to a minimum. It was pleasantly warm too, another thing to appreciate; the cold of Cylus wasn’t great for fleshlings and Ylduih alike, and both welcomed the heat of a hearth. She removed both her gloves and warm coat, and handed them to Yrmellyn if the painter would offer to take them, or she would search for a peg instead.

“I must say Ms. Cole, I have no idea what is expected of me, so do give me instructions if you need me to do something specific.” She moved closer to the fire, briefly warming her hands at the warm glow. The Cylus cold had snuck through her gloves, making her fingers feel stiff and rigid. “We are completely out of my area of expertise.” The roles were reversed indeed. Yana just hoped that whatever painting Yrmellyn Cole had in mind, it wasn’t one where she had to pose naked. Though with the hearth burning and the comment the painter had made on her skin, she wouldn’t be too surprised.

[Yrmellyn Cole]

Now when Saeri LaChasse had arrived it was time to get down to work!

Yrmellyn politely took the gloves and the coat of her guest, eager to grab the opportunity to show good manners and live up potential expectations on etiquette the small details. She hanged the coat on a hook beside the door and then she carefully piled up the gloves on top of the same hook, in the hopes that they would stay there. Then she span around to face Saeri. The painter was full of energy, because Saeri was a truly inspiring motif to her. All kinds of possibilities blossomed in her inner vision, all of them blue.

The painting was for Saeri though, so she was going to find out more before she started. This could sometimes be a tedious procedure, to some people who didn’t like to speak about themselves and answer questions. It was important though. She didn’t want people to come out of a portrait sitting with a picture they didn’t like.

"There are a few things I need to ask you about before we start. For a start we need to decide the purpose of the picture. Your portrait can be used for so many ends. It can be an impressive portrait yourself as a professional in job attire, meant to show people the martial side of yourself and convince employers to trust you and pay well. It can be a casual portrait meant for your family and friends to smile at. It can be a very romantic portrait of yourself in a beautiful dress, for example to give as a gift to a lover you want to think of you. It can also be a portrait of you in lighter clothing, very light clothing even, so to speak, if this can be of use for you, for example if you don’t already have a lover but would like to snare one. I can tell you that it can be very effective to..."

As Yrmellyn began to explain the last option, Rudi looked up from the alchemy book and stared expectantly at Saeri. The cat beside him gave a low sound, displeased that the boy had moved slightly.

Yrmellyn ended in the middle of the sentence. She had suddenly realized that it could become more complicated to take on an apprentice than she had imagined. She hadn’t thought of the possibility that he might even be in the way for her work. Then again, as his crafting master to be she could order him to not watch, in case it would become necessary. Or she could send him wait outside the door and hope he wouldn’t try anything.

She glared at Rudi. The boy quickly turned his gaze to the book again.

"My first question is if any of those ideas suits you, or if you had something else in mind. You can take your time and think while I have a look at the colors."

They painter turned her attention to her materials, just glancing briefly at the eídisi once in a while, to stay in touch.

Saeri the military woman. Saeri the dear family member. Saeri the romantic lover. Saeri the sexy. Whichever kind of portrait the eídisi would chose Yrmellyn would continue to new questions related to that specific choice.

[Yanahalqah]

They had only just begun, and it already became clear to Yana that the painter wouldn’t be satisfied with just painting her picture. Just painting her picture was too clear cut, it seemed, and the painter wanted to know what the Yludih had in mind. If she was being honest, she had nothing in mind. Nothing at all. She had expected Yrmellyn Cole to have an idea of what she wanted to do, and execute it as soon as Yana had arrived. This appeared not to be the case.

She gave the false Eídisi a couple options however, though they did serve to give Yana more of an idea what the painter meant, it wasn’t that much help. Yana hadn’t planned to be using the painting in the ways Yrmellyn Cole suggested. As a squire, she really couldn’t brag about her career at all, and having a painting of her in uniform or something might come across as arrogant.

To send a picture of herself to Rathaan… well, she doubted he’d mind at all, but she felt really uncomfortable at the thought. They had gone to the ball together, and she did like him, but they weren’t really there yet. Probably they never would. She was Yludih, he was Eídisi. She’d rather not keep her race a secret from those truly close to her, and that made things really dangerous.

Yana noticed the boy looking up from his book, suddenly interested in the conversation. The painter glared at her apprentice, but Yana wasn’t a prude, really. She could, in theory, pose for a –as the artist put it—painting of her very lightly dressed. However, she’d rather not be recognizable on it, and she wouldn’t send it to anyone she knew personally, nor would she hang it on the wall in her own residence. It’d be too awkward. Besides, if she wanted to see herself naked, she could always look in a mirror.

“That last one… will not be necessary, Ms. Cole,” the Yludih responded coolly. “I think we best opt for the casual portrait.” She could send it to her parents. Whether her father would appreciate it was a mystery, but her mother surely would love the gesture. She hadn’t sent a letter in quite a while too. She could use the painting as an apology, or maybe as an excuse, claiming she hadn’t sent a letter because the painting wasn’t done yet. Either way, she wouldn’t have to look at a portrait of herself trial in, trial out, and it wouldn’t waste away all covered up and hidden in a drawer or something. It’d be a shame, really. Or, so she told herself, it would be if Yrmellyn’s skill was greater than expected.

“Does that answer your first question?” she asked, then making a ‘please continue’ gesture with a hand. If there was a first of something, there usually were more than one. From Yrmellyn Cole, Yana expected nothing less than a thousand questions, all carefully and enthusiastically explained.

[Yrmellyn Cole]

“A casual kind of portrait.” The painter looked thoughtfully at Saeri. She had more questions in store, but she wouldn’t start to bombard the eídisi with them. It was a painting interview, not an interrogation. She just nodded and took time to think a bit.

Saeri had surprised her. Yrmellyn had been under the impression that the woman was a taciturn and no nonsense warrior personality with a strong focus on her work and a bit aloof. She had outlined some options for the eídisi to think of, but secretly she had actually guessed that Saeri would choose a portrait of a professional military woman, wearing armor and weapons and looking like a knight on her way to rise in the ranks. She had also found it possible that a portrait to use as gift for a lover (or a trap to catch one) might be preferred. The eídisi had come off as rational and effective, and a former courtesan Yrmellyn found the tactic of love and business more similar to war than most people would think. Anyways. It was always important to not assume too much about other people. Right now, for example, Saeri LaChasse had chosen the option Yrmellyn had thought was the least likely. For some reason she had chosen a portrait in a casual and friendly style, a feel-good portrait of the kind people liked to give their family and friends.

“A good choice.” The painter always told all her motifs they made good choices. It was part of the business part of a painter’s job to let people know that their decisions were good. Truth to be told, the painter painted them as she liked, but people used to feel more okay with the result if they had been involved in it and felt they got what they had asked for...sort of.

“As you can see, I have a lot of different shades of blue here.” She gestured to the pigments she had prepared. "Contrary to what people often think, blue isn’t one single color, but many different hues, ranging from nearly green to nearly violet and from nearly white or grey to nearly black. I’m going to use the blue of your skin as a reference point, but I will use many different shades when I paint...”

Acting like she was totally focused on work and not on watching the motifs could make the people she painted feel more relaxed. Speaking about the colors and the painting process was also always good for when she needed to think but didn’t want this to be too obvious. She smiled at Saeri LaChasse, and while she fidgeted some more with the pigments she launched next question.

“We need to speak a bit more about whom are you aiming to give the painting to. Your father and mother? Siblings? Other relatives? A friend? Can you please describe the recipient to me and tell me a bit about how they are, what they use to like and what you want them to think of when they watch the portrait... if you are going to give it away that is. But if you are, the more you tell me the better.”

[Yanahalqah]

The painter seemed a tad bit surprised with her choice. Was it so unexpected that she would pick that one? For strangers who barely knew her, indubitably so. For those who did know her… it would probably be odd as well. Ah well. There were many sides to every individual, some of which weren’t always seen. Just like when looking at a cube, there always was at least one face out of sight.

People always saw the military side, because Yana rarely showed them anything else.

No doubt the painter had expected the Yludih to pick that option too.

Still, she rolled with it, apparently, recovering quickly and commenting on what a good choice it was. Perhaps not a people person in any sense of the word, Yana could see the polite not-quite-a-truth Yrmellyn Cole offered as what it was; the kind of statement that merchants told their customers when they picked any item from their wares. The kind of little lie that seamstresses smiled as a patron chose whatever color fabric from a whole slew of them. It meant nothing at all. The only thing that wasn’t fake about it was that Yana had indeed made a choice. Whether it would be good or bad, well, that depended on Yrmellyn’s skill.

Every choice made by a customer was a good choice, because they were a customer. The point was selling them stuff, or keeping them happy so they bought stuff. Telling them that their choice was bad, and their opinion worse only served for bad publicity. It was the very definition of ‘the customer is always right’. And Yana was very much the customer here, even though she was not paying for the artwork to be.

Still, she simply nodded, almost shrugging. Politesse, etiquette… important skills to have when dealing with other people. Not because they appreciated it –as far as Yana knew, most liked not to beat around the bush—but because it made interaction less coarse and rough. It added rules to a conversation. If you did not want that to happen, don’t say it like this, but say it like that. If you don’t offend people, they won’t cause you trouble. The only downside was that they slowed things down. It was a detour, not the quickest route.

She eyed the colors for a brief moment, then redirected her gaze elsewhere. Colors and paint were not her business, it was Yrmellyn’s. If there were many shades of blue and periwinkle, or only three, it mattered not. All that mattered was that she got the job done; though not sloppy or rushed. Not that she expected the painter to do such a thing. If her comment had told Yana anything, it was that she knew how to treat her customers.

“It would be a gift for my parents,” Yana said, not sure what to tell the painter. “My mother is a cheerful woman. Warm personality. Always busy with something, always lacking time for doing what she wants to. Yet she always had time for me.” The slightest of smiles curled Yana’s lips. “My father is… strict. Distant and aloof, mostly. He used to spend his free time in his office, reading tomes on all sorts of academia. Or he was jotting down notes on pet projects of his. Sketches, usually, of buildings and archways. He took his work home.” She stared into the fire, rubbing the fingers of one hand absentmindedly. “He taught me in there too. Everything he thought I should know.” He hadn’t always been pleased with her progress. She could just about remember the feel of the wooden ruler on her knuckles.

“Will that do?”

[Yrmellyn Cole]

Family.

As always when the painter heard people speak about their family she felt envious, though not in an evil way. She didn’t begrudge them their belonging to a family, but when they spoke about parents and siblings it felt like it accentuated her own lack thereof. Yrmellyn Cole knew no roots and she had few memories of true attachment to other people. The way Saeri LaChasse described her father made him seem like a stern and cold man who was narrowly focused on his own business and felt little or no interest in Saeri except for wanting to educate her and make perform well. To Yrmellyn even this kind of father seemed better than not knowing a father at all. Saeri’s body language gave very little away, but Yrmellyn noticed the absence of emotional expression, compared to when the eídisi had spoken about her mother. She had seen that ever so faint smile pass over Saeri’s otherwise so controlled features and the description of the mother sounded like everything Yrmellyn had wished for when she was small, but had never experienced. The brief description of the unknown woman who had given birth to Saeri LaChasse and raised her with love and care drew the painter in, compulsively, like a moth is drawn to the light of a lantern just because it exists.

“A portrait for your parents.”

Hunger. This was what best described the feeling that seized her and possessed her. She wanted to know more. The painter quenched an impulse to overwhelm Saeri with questions. They were acquainted, she and Saeri, merely acquainted. She didn’t feel entitled to become too personal. The taciturn eídisi didn’t seem to invite close friendship, at least not quickly, at least not with Yrmellyn Cole. She wasn’t unfriendly or hostile. It wasn’t that. Saeri just felt like a person who kept her secrets secret and only shared select thoughts with a few. It would be bad manners to try to fish for more details than the eídisi volunteered.

“So...it seems like the home of your parents is the place where both of them would see the portrait” she said tentatively, avoiding to say anything about whom of them she guessed it would mainly be for.

“What do you think is best, a relaxed picture where you smile at them and appear happy, or a picture where you looks serious and calm and they can see that you have a job? I mean, some parents are mainly looking to see their children happy, and others are mainly looking to see them successful. Even if you can be both, the emphasis can lean towards one or another of those options; a more vivid picture with a warm smile, or a calmer picture with a serious and competent expression. What would you prefer to give your parents? And which kind room do you think it will hang in? It could be good of you can describe the room briefly.”

She opened a bottle of linseed-oil and started to mix oil and color pigments on a tray in order to be ready to start and paint once she had pinpointed the main properties of the portrait. She needed an answer about the expression of the picture first though and after this she would adjust Saeri’s pose accordingly. When this was done she was going to ask the eídisi to sit still...totally still. To some people this could be an ordeal, if they were the impatient kind and prone to think of all the things they could do if the painting session would just finish. There were also those who found it lovely to get to sit and just be and not have to do anything, just be. Regardless of the motif’s personality the requirements were always the same though. They were allowed to speak, but they mustn’t move until the session was over.

Yrmellyn looked at Saeri and waited, full of inspiration.

[Yanahalqah]

Yana wondered if she heard a question hidden in that line, that simple echo of what kind of painting she wanted and to whom she’d gift it. If she’d have been the one to speak it, it would have been a question for sure, she supposed, but Yrmellyn Cole didn’t even have an eyebrow quizzically raised. Maybe she did on the inside.

“Yes.”

The painter seemed to accept that reply, though not without looking as if a thousand and one questions were burning on the tip of her tongue, longing to be freed. It probably took a whole lot of discipline for the blabbermouth of a painter to hold herself back and not say anything at all, which Yana could definitely appreciate. Still, there was –as predicted—another set of questions coming her way, this time about the location of the portrait, or where to would hang once her parents had received it. The painter was hesitant in her query, seemingly choosing her words with great care.

“Yes?”

And then there was another hard question. “What do you think looks best?” Who was the painter here again? Yana was here to get this over with, to make sure that Yrmellyn Cole wouldn’t suddenly show up at her door and follow her around, nagging about how she’d promised Yana a painting. A painting the Yludih had never asked for. However if there was anything Yana did not want to see, it would be a painting of herself smiling happily. The thought alone was enough to creep her out; she’d never been one to smile widely in the first place, so the faint hints of a smile were the best you would get, really. So the calmer option was definitely the way to go.

“I believe the calmer expression would be more fitting,” she said, “though I doubt there is a need to show my parents I have a job.” She wrote them fairly often after all –mostly for the show, since she saw her mother regularly in Uleuda. Her father still needed to be contacted through letters though, but he knew about her work as well. “Just a picture where I look like myself would do just fine.”

Which room though? That was a tricky question. Where indeed? She didn’t know, she wouldn’t want the faces of family members in any room she frequently visited, but that was just her. She knew that there had been portraits of her father’s parents in the hall on the second floor, but she wasn’t sure whether her portrait would be added to that small gallery as well. “I do not know,” she answered. “Does it matter?”

The painter guided Yana to the modelling area, where she pushed her onto a stool and told her to sit still. Yrmellyn Cole adjusted her pose and told her to look like this, and then like that… no a little more so and less so. Yana wasn’t too sure whether or not this would actually help the painting process, but sitting still was something she could do. She just hoped that the pose would translate well onto the canvas, and if not… well, she could always burn the portrait.

[Yrmellyn Cole]

“A serious expression. And it doesn’t matter which kind of room. Well, then we are ready to start.”
Secretly she felt relieved that the eídisi hadn’t chosen a smiling and cheery portrait, because Saeri wasn’t a particularly smiling and cheery personality. Sometimes when people who were stern and serious wanted pictures of themselves smiling broadly and looking jovial it was nearly impossible to paint them well.

She arranged the motif. It didn’t take so long time to put Saeri in a suitable position, in the painter’s opinion. She did get a creepy feeling of working with a kind of stone statue though. Peculiar. Saeri LaChasse was admittedly a cold person, somehow, but she was an eídisi of flesh and blood like all other people, not a stone statue.

When Yrmellyn Cole prepared for working she used to ask questions about the input she needed, but once she started to paint, she worked silently and with her attention on the job and the result. This abrupt change from seeming chattiness to complete silence could sometimes make the people she painted feel uneasy. Many didn’t understand that the questions weren’t light conversation and general socialization, but part of her work. Saeri LaChasse seemed to feel perfectly content to sit still and be silent though. The painter appreciated this. It made the work more efficient.

“Come here, Rudi” she said to the boy, recalling that she was supposed to take lead and teach him. “It can be good for you to watch and learn. The first thing I will do is to outline the motif. The purpose is not to draw anything in detail. It’s just meant to give me some initial lines to guide me when I paint. You can take one of those used parchments over there...” She pointed at a heap of failed sketches. “Use the back side. Take a piece of coal and try to do just like I do.”

The boy obliged.

She took a piece of coal and make a general sketch where she outlined the shape of Saeri as a framework of thin grey lines until she was content with it. This took some time of course, but Yrmellyn wasn’t in a hurry. She hoped Saeri would remain still and silent.

“I made a drawing!” Rudi announced.

He showed it to Yrmellyn. It was an unskilled drawing of course, what else could be expected, but it was also a drawing that made the painter struggle to control herself and not laugh out loudly. She nodded, keeping a straight face as best she could. Rudi was a child, but he had grown up in a bad environment in Water Street, and his “artstyle” reflected this. No doubt he must have seen some of those “attractive cards” where happy people posed in underwear and smiled inviting smiles. On Rudi’s picture the eídisi sat in an alluring pose, wearing what looked meant to look like big calf length puffy underpants and a matching puffy blouse, smiling a really broad smile.

Oh, well. It could have been worse.

“Good start.” She guessed it would be best to be encouraging. “I guess you are planning to paint the clothes later. Also ...when we paint there’s always some artistic freedom, but I don’t really think Miss LaChasse wears that kind of underwear.”

“Okay.” Rudi seemed pleased with the praise. Before she had time to stop him he showed the drawing to Saeri.

Yrmellyn prayed silently to the immortal Vhalar in the hopes that Saeri LaChasse wouldn’t be bothered by the creativity of the boy. Just in case Vhalar wouldn’t see any reason to intervene against a budding artist she told Rudi to come back to her, because they were going to paint now.

“This is turpentine Rudi”. She opened a small bottle and the smell of turpentine spread in the air. “We painters use turpentine as a thinner...when we want the paint thinner so we can create an impression of transparence, we add turpentine to the oil and the pigments.”

“Right. Turpentine. When the color is too thick and you want things to be transparent.”

“Sit still and paint now Rudi. Don’t disturb Miss LaChasse again, because I need her to sit still while I work.” Yrmellyn spoke firmly, to make the boy understand that she was in charge here and they were working, not playing.

“I hope you are comfortable Saeri” she said to the eídisi as she dipped a brush in blue color and started to paint for real. She worked pretty fast. It wouldn’t take so long time to complete the portrait, in Yrmellyn’s opinion. One break later she felt content with the result. If Saeri LaChasse would like it was of course another thing...people didn’t always like their own portraits. Yrmellyn had however painted Saeri as she saw her. It was a serious portrait. If the eídisi disliked it and said she didn’t want it, Yrmellyn Cole would accept this add the portrait to her collection of paintings she got to keep. She never felt like people must accept a portrait. Also, whether Saeri would want the painting or not, the painter had kept her promise to Vhalar.

“It’s done.” Carefully she turned the easel with the picture towards the eídisi so she could see it. “This is it. If you want it I will send it to your quarters as soon as it has dried.”

[Yanahalqah]

With all of Yrmellyn Cole’s questions answered and her desire for information on Yana satisfied --albeit temporarily, if the Yludih had to guess—the painter sat herself in front of her easel and began drawing, teaching her apprentice in the meantime. Yana remained still as the both of them observed her shape and form, and reproduced it on canvas and paper respectively. Though the false Eídisi knew she’d be here for a long time, she wasn’t too bothered by it. Instead, she was simply content with the quiet of focus and productivity that now hung heavy in the room. It was a whole lot more comfortable this way.

Until, of course, the painter’s apprentice was done with his sketch and decided it would be a good idea to show his masterpiece not only to his tutor, but to the model as well.

To say that it was bad would be a discredit to the boy’s developing skill, but it certainly wasn’t a decent representation of Yana in any way. That wide smiling face alone was enough to make her cringe, but then there were those puffy and hideous… things --those were underwear? And the pose… It was bad enough to make it hard for Yana to keep her face in check, and not show how much the mental image of herself doing and wearing what the boy had drawn hurt her mental facilities. If she’d had a brain like fleshlings tended to have, she suspected a whole boatload of its cells would have died via apoptosis in an effort to purge the image from her thoughts.

She quirked one corner of her mouth in an effort to pretend it was a humorous affair to her, but as always it was but a minimalist gesture. Perhaps if she’d had a decent sense of humor she’d have attempted to replicate the smile, but as things stood, she feared her trying would tear her face in half. ”Lovely,” she managed, though she wasn’t sure if there was any sarcasm lacing her words or not.

That incident aside, everything else went pretty well, Yana considered. Yrmellyn did her job without needless chatter. The boy was wisely kept too busy to show any other frightening pictures to the painter’s model, and, of course, he was taught many things about paint and turpentine and what have you. Painter stuff. Yana didn’t really pay any attention, zoning out for the most part. She only really came to the present when she was spoken to, and when the painting itself was done, which hadn’t taken nearly as much as the Yludih had expected.

One would think that such a short time would make for a shoddy portrait, but the painter indeed possessed enough skill to make it work. It was rather nice, really, the Yludih thought as she let her void eyes wander over it. It was very blue though, everything was blue. Probably to invoke a certain feeling or to represent her personality or something, Yana guessed. Either way, it certainly was a decent painting. Whether it was worth the money of the trip down Waterstreet though… well… maybe.

“It looks great,” the Yludih complimented the artist, shifting her gaze from the artwork to its creator. “If you could have it delivered at my doorstep, that would be greatly appreciated. I would recommend sometime in the early evening, if possible. Earlier than that and I will likely be working.”

She grabbed her coat and gloves then, putting each on without haste. “Well then, Ms. Cole, it was a pleasure. I am sure I will see you around. I will be looking forward to the delivery then.” She offered the woman a polite and minute smile, nodding her head slightly in greeting before she stepped out the door.

Another ordeal she’d survived. Yana was glad that it was over, and hoped sincerely that nothing would happen to the portrait while drying, causing the painter to insist the Yludih return for a redo. If possible, she'd rather not come back at all.