Pretty in Pink
26th Spring, 515AV
26th Spring, 515AV
"All great art has a name."
The words instantly reminded Anouk of her mother. Niva Pavarti had enforced the rule to all four of her daughters, encouraging them to name even their infantile scribbles. Anouk, being the most passive and compliant daughter, had of course agreed with her mother. And so as a young girl, she had given each and every one of her paintings a title. Then it had simply become a habit of Anouk's to do so. But the one in front of her now completely stumped the Konti. Granted, the painting was less than half complete, but she still had no idea as to what to title it.
Inspiration will come, she assured herself silently, with a nod.
Anouk glanced to the door that served as the main entrance to the art studio. Her professor had still not arrived -- despite the fact her lesson should have started half a bell ago. With a mild shrug, Anouk returned her attention back to her in-progress artwork.
The painting was fairly large, bigger than anything Anouk had started since her arrival to the port city. Approximately half of the canvas had been painted already, though only with the first layer of colours, giving an overall blurry and flat impression so far. The other half of the canvas simply showed the sketched outline of what Anouk was planning on painting at a later stage. The centre of the image featured a woman's bodiless left hand, outstretched to show off the pretty diamond ring that sat proudly on the third finger. The rest of the painting appeared to be disjointed from this partially-painted image. The top corner displayed two hands clasped together, with fine charcoal lines on each finger to emphasise the old age of whomever the hands belonged to. The other three images were of a bloodied knife, a pile of golden coins and - perhaps the most puzzling, the blurred outline of a faceless, apparently genderless, individual.
Anouk reached forward, gently flicking a stray piece of charcoal off her canvas. The banished intruder left a faint black line that swept across the left third of the creamy linen, and the Konti tsked with mild annoyance.
The door creaked loudly open, snapping up Anouk's aquamarine gaze to her professor, a fellow Konti. But the student's anticipatory smile faltered when she realised what her professor was wearing: bright pink robes. They were quite the change to the usual, duller colours.
Judging by Nabisa's expression, the change was not a welcome one. She raised a hand tiredly before Anouk could even muster up a weak compliment to reassure her professor. "Don't ask. I have no idea what happened."
The words instantly reminded Anouk of her mother. Niva Pavarti had enforced the rule to all four of her daughters, encouraging them to name even their infantile scribbles. Anouk, being the most passive and compliant daughter, had of course agreed with her mother. And so as a young girl, she had given each and every one of her paintings a title. Then it had simply become a habit of Anouk's to do so. But the one in front of her now completely stumped the Konti. Granted, the painting was less than half complete, but she still had no idea as to what to title it.
Inspiration will come, she assured herself silently, with a nod.
Anouk glanced to the door that served as the main entrance to the art studio. Her professor had still not arrived -- despite the fact her lesson should have started half a bell ago. With a mild shrug, Anouk returned her attention back to her in-progress artwork.
The painting was fairly large, bigger than anything Anouk had started since her arrival to the port city. Approximately half of the canvas had been painted already, though only with the first layer of colours, giving an overall blurry and flat impression so far. The other half of the canvas simply showed the sketched outline of what Anouk was planning on painting at a later stage. The centre of the image featured a woman's bodiless left hand, outstretched to show off the pretty diamond ring that sat proudly on the third finger. The rest of the painting appeared to be disjointed from this partially-painted image. The top corner displayed two hands clasped together, with fine charcoal lines on each finger to emphasise the old age of whomever the hands belonged to. The other three images were of a bloodied knife, a pile of golden coins and - perhaps the most puzzling, the blurred outline of a faceless, apparently genderless, individual.
Anouk reached forward, gently flicking a stray piece of charcoal off her canvas. The banished intruder left a faint black line that swept across the left third of the creamy linen, and the Konti tsked with mild annoyance.
The door creaked loudly open, snapping up Anouk's aquamarine gaze to her professor, a fellow Konti. But the student's anticipatory smile faltered when she realised what her professor was wearing: bright pink robes. They were quite the change to the usual, duller colours.
Judging by Nabisa's expression, the change was not a welcome one. She raised a hand tiredly before Anouk could even muster up a weak compliment to reassure her professor. "Don't ask. I have no idea what happened."