BASTIEN
It appeared at the dead of night.
Bastien stepped into the temple, breath held, glancing side to side to see if he was going to bump into any late night worshippers in the hall of the Gods. It seemed quiet, for the moment. Slowly, with great reverence as if doing an act that would go down in history, he carried his canvas down between the pews; like Christ carrying the cross, he thought, self-indulgently.
He'd brought things to hang it with, wanting to do much more than just place it inside the temple; no, it had to be confronting, noticeable. Defiant in it's positioning: if he positioned it just right, the light from the window would shine through and make it appear almost illuminated. He'd always had a gift for performance and that side of him took over, demanding this be more than just a gallery showing. It took a while to rig everything up right, though with Rexanna's help it was an easier job that he had expected. How wonderful to have a wife that understood his artistic desires so!
The painting depicted the Voice in a soft focus, in a pose not entirely distant from the Saints 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, almost like she was daring them to say something.
When he was finished displaying his work, the early morning light was filtering in and the painting was suspended above the shrine, bold and unapologetic. He thought the meaning clear, though he had added a caption, a piece of paper on a pedestal a few feet before it which read:
"The first in a series of paintings of all the honourable Gods of Caido: The Voice. Each painting will be hung here in turn, for a week; then moved to the side of the temple."
This was true. If there was no strong reaction to his work, he would go on to make the other Gods too. After all, the point was the show The Voice as an option equal to any other.
He suspected it would at least get people talking, if not be taken down swiftly...in which case he would not paint the others. Petty, perhaps, but he was not going to honour followers of other Gods with an honour they would not give him.
He had not signed the piece, though it would be pretty obvious whose hand had made it; he was not really trying to hide. Bastien stood to the side of the temple, out of the way, arms crossed, waiting to see if anyone would enter, and what their reaction would be.
Bastien stepped into the temple, breath held, glancing side to side to see if he was going to bump into any late night worshippers in the hall of the Gods. It seemed quiet, for the moment. Slowly, with great reverence as if doing an act that would go down in history, he carried his canvas down between the pews; like Christ carrying the cross, he thought, self-indulgently.
He'd brought things to hang it with, wanting to do much more than just place it inside the temple; no, it had to be confronting, noticeable. Defiant in it's positioning: if he positioned it just right, the light from the window would shine through and make it appear almost illuminated. He'd always had a gift for performance and that side of him took over, demanding this be more than just a gallery showing. It took a while to rig everything up right, though with Rexanna's help it was an easier job that he had expected. How wonderful to have a wife that understood his artistic desires so!
The painting depicted the Voice in a soft focus, in a pose not entirely distant from the Saints 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, almost like she was daring them to say something.
When he was finished displaying his work, the early morning light was filtering in and the painting was suspended above the shrine, bold and unapologetic. He thought the meaning clear, though he had added a caption, a piece of paper on a pedestal a few feet before it which read:
"The first in a series of paintings of all the honourable Gods of Caido: The Voice. Each painting will be hung here in turn, for a week; then moved to the side of the temple."
This was true. If there was no strong reaction to his work, he would go on to make the other Gods too. After all, the point was the show The Voice as an option equal to any other.
He suspected it would at least get people talking, if not be taken down swiftly...in which case he would not paint the others. Petty, perhaps, but he was not going to honour followers of other Gods with an honour they would not give him.
He had not signed the piece, though it would be pretty obvious whose hand had made it; he was not really trying to hide. Bastien stood to the side of the temple, out of the way, arms crossed, waiting to see if anyone would enter, and what their reaction would be.
Some people can't get success with their art
Some people never feel love in their heart
Some people can't tell the two things apart
But I keep rollin' on
Some people can't tell the two things apart
But I keep rollin' on
Base Code by Sky!
