Heroes always get remembered
But you know legends never die
In his many years working as an artist, Bastien had gotten rather practised at evaluating the worth of his own paintings, both for price and quality. As much as he was aware he was prone to exaggeration (never) he thought that the painting he had completed of the Voice was one of his best.
A little taller than him and about three feet wide, it was a large piece; he had had to specially commission the canvas and pay considerably more than usual. But it was for an important cause, so he hadn't minded. In fact, the thought that his art could once again have power had inspired his brush to glide across the surface, the painting coming to life quicker than expected.
The painting depicted the Voice in a soft focus, in a pose not entirely distant from the Madonnas of his world, though that had not been intentional. Colour and light sang from the canvas, swift brush strokes creating something at once vague and intensely detailed. A blue crackling light illuminated the figure from the back and The Voice fixed the viewer with a steady, confident gaze.
Wrapped up and on his back, it was a difficult piece to carry, but Bastien knew before he used the painting how he wished to, he had to speak to The Voice. After all, it was her portrait. At least it was not far to the Atheneum, Bastien arriving late enough that it was relatively quiet - he had asked Rexanna to let him come alone, this time. The Voice and he had not had a lot of time to get to know eachother, and he felt the gap between them.
Setting the canvas, wrapped in it's protective fabric, against a bookshelf, he closed his eyes and dipped his head just slightly before the shrine. "Voce bellissima. May I speak with you?"
A little taller than him and about three feet wide, it was a large piece; he had had to specially commission the canvas and pay considerably more than usual. But it was for an important cause, so he hadn't minded. In fact, the thought that his art could once again have power had inspired his brush to glide across the surface, the painting coming to life quicker than expected.
The painting depicted the Voice in a soft focus, in a pose not entirely distant from the Madonnas of his world, though that had not been intentional. Colour and light sang from the canvas, swift brush strokes creating something at once vague and intensely detailed. A blue crackling light illuminated the figure from the back and The Voice fixed the viewer with a steady, confident gaze.
Wrapped up and on his back, it was a difficult piece to carry, but Bastien knew before he used the painting how he wished to, he had to speak to The Voice. After all, it was her portrait. At least it was not far to the Atheneum, Bastien arriving late enough that it was relatively quiet - he had asked Rexanna to let him come alone, this time. The Voice and he had not had a lot of time to get to know eachother, and he felt the gap between them.
Setting the canvas, wrapped in it's protective fabric, against a bookshelf, he closed his eyes and dipped his head just slightly before the shrine. "Voce bellissima. May I speak with you?"
mortal kings are ruling castles
Welcome to my world of fun
BASTIEN
