Finally, thank God (or The Voice, he supposed), Rexanna arrived. He spun to greet her as soon as he heard the footsteps, walking close and beaming. "Ah, the dress from the masquerade! You looked so wonderful, cara. And wine! Such a treat." He knew he wouldn't be able to taste it, not really, but it was still a required part of the ~artistic experience~, as far as he was concerned.
"Yes, just us." Bastien gestured for her to come inside then shut the door, thinking it might be cold for Rexanna (he had no idea, really. It was odd to not even feel the slightest chill of the wind, the heat of fires).
It would have been easy to simple guide her to before his canvas and begin to paint, but Bastien had decided to say what he had to and he needed to do it before he lost his bravery. "Come, sit. Before we begin, I must speak with you." He lead them to a small cushioned couch, something rather obnoxiously luxurious in this place, clearly commissioned from some confused furniture maker.
Taking a moment to draw himself up as if taking a breath he couldn't pull into his lungs, he spoke with his hands held in his lap and his eyes looking her over with a vulnerability he did not often allow himself. "I must ask you two things, Rexanna. The first is the simplest: I was wondering how you would feel about being my model more regularly? Say, once a week? And...if I get anything for the paintings, you may have half the proceedings? Food, or clothes, or...whatever I am traded for them."
"Yes, just us." Bastien gestured for her to come inside then shut the door, thinking it might be cold for Rexanna (he had no idea, really. It was odd to not even feel the slightest chill of the wind, the heat of fires).
It would have been easy to simple guide her to before his canvas and begin to paint, but Bastien had decided to say what he had to and he needed to do it before he lost his bravery. "Come, sit. Before we begin, I must speak with you." He lead them to a small cushioned couch, something rather obnoxiously luxurious in this place, clearly commissioned from some confused furniture maker.
Taking a moment to draw himself up as if taking a breath he couldn't pull into his lungs, he spoke with his hands held in his lap and his eyes looking her over with a vulnerability he did not often allow himself. "I must ask you two things, Rexanna. The first is the simplest: I was wondering how you would feel about being my model more regularly? Say, once a week? And...if I get anything for the paintings, you may have half the proceedings? Food, or clothes, or...whatever I am traded for them."
Bastien
With a flash of the ankle, snarl of the lip
I see you in the street and gasp
Cause only Anarchists are pretty
I see you in the street and gasp
Cause only Anarchists are pretty
