Practices In Painting.

[*Spiegel1]

Taris stares down at her small, finely boned hand, paintbrush clutched in her left hand. The Hin looks up at the easel and canvas with a sigh, her blue eyes drifting over the failed attempts at getting her hand right. She looks around the room at the other canvases. The small Hin lets her eyes rest on each one, a head here, a leg there and the ever present drawing of hands. Those seem to pop out everywhere, each one not quite right, a flaw in the painting somewhere. She looks down between her legs, staring at her feet.

"Once I get this right I should move onto getting the contours of feet correct. Fun, fun, fun."

She picks up the brush once more, her smock covered in paint by now, she places the horsehair brush to a bare patch of canvas and traces a line before looking at it critically.

"By the Hells, it's still not right. I need to find some help with this, I can't do it on my own."

[*Spiegel1]

Taris once again sets up her easel, palette in one hand, paintbrush in the other. The Hin closes her eyes, her mind wandering back to the delightful, exciting experience of flying, weightless high above Sigil. She places the horsehair brush to canvas drawing the first line, a straight edge of gray. She repeats the process; a tower slowly becoming visible.

The Hin fills in the rocks floating around the tower, the perspective from an odd angle, her eyes drift shut again as she recalls the memory, the roar of air around her as she rests in the middle of the Elemental that is supporting her. A dot of red is placed on the painted in path at the bottom edge of the landscape, possibly a patrolling Harmonium. A dot of green is placed as well, the corner of the building showing where the Abashai is. The roofs of the buildings are painted in, brown, black and gray. A string of laundry is hanging from two poles, a splash of white.

Taris steps back looking at the finished painting. "I hope this works, hopefully it is good enough for the Sensory Competition."

[*Spiegel1]

Taris sits down in front of her spare easel, a pale Tiefling on her bed, the Hin only knowing her as Elthiir, while in front of her is a red headed Fey Blood known by the name of Gwynnithe Sensbane. The Fey blood is holding up a Cello, hands in proper position, bow angled down. Taris observes the woman for a moment before placing charcoal to canvas . . . And then the whining starts, the Fey blood growing increasingly bored. While focusing on her art the poor Hin has to endure whining, random questions, and a horrid attempt at playing the Cello, fortunately the attempt was muted by the strips of cloth that Taris had shoved in her pointy, pierced ears.

For her first sale of her art, Taris had to endure a lot of aggravations from Gwynnithe, but through it all she managed to finish the sketch and get the Fey blood out of her room, the Tiefling known as Elthiir had departed to Elysium earlier but had come back near the end and left with Gwynnithe.

[*Spiegel1]

Amycus's painting is revealed: the sketch showing a woman in an elaborate gown holding a Cello, bow angled down, arm and fingers in the correct position, the woman has a half-lidded look of concentration. Her head is tilted to one side as she listens to the music, her long hair extending down to her elbow. Instead of being on a stage, the woman is in a bedroom.

The bedroom shows a window, which is open, laced curtains covering it, a peek of the night sky outside. The vanity mirror has a half-open drawer, there is also a quill and inkpot on the vanity. The four poster bed has heavy curtains covering it, the chest at the foot of the bed has fancy shoes resting on top. The dresser has a single box on top, a key sticking out of the lock embedded in the wood.

[*jasonpauldegraaf]

Following Taris, Amycus Thorne heads to the upper floor of the inn to see the painting he had previously requested from the hin. Entering her room, he watches as she uncovers the easel revealing a beautiful sketch of a striking woman playing a cello. Taken back by the detail and precision of her work, his mouth drops slightly and he leans closer.

"You are quite talented, m'dear. How long did it take you to complete this?" Amycus asked.

"I worked on the background late into last night," she replied.

Leaning even closer, Amycus continued to examine the work. "You caught the mood and moment I was looking for precisely. How much do I owe you for this, Taris?"

Flushing out the details of price and payment, Amycus is instructed to come back in a few hours to pick up the final work. Smiling pleasantly, he heads back downstairs and out into the bazaar, satisfied with a brilliant piece to add to his office in the Hall of Records.

[*Spiegel1]

Taris stares at the canvas, a picture forming in her mind, her eyes drift to the quick sketch of Shiv she acquired three days ago. With a mix of her paint she applies the first line of her new work of art. Her mind then sinks into the image she sees, her hand working on making a picture surface from the blank canvas.