Paint Me a French Girl

(this thread is for Sage Aylin )

"I can think of a hundred things I could be doing," the familiar voice that was very huffy but lacked any heir of true bitterness was of Ewan Crowe the second of his name, "Portraits," he muttered the word slowly as he adjusted his collar and sipped his wine. It seemed someone had commissioned local artists to paint portraits of the the Queen's Advisors and then the Royal family, "My Lord if I am not mistaken you...signed off on this," the older seamstress replied with jovial wit which jarred Ewans memory, "Weeping Lords a plenty I did, didn't I? Misses Naomi what would a man do without you?"

Misses Naomi chuckled, "You'd mighty naked my Lord!"

Ewan smiled from behind his wine, "Indeed, and your wit knows no bound ma'am but alas," the door to the small office was knocked upon, "Please come in!" Ewan shouted and the door opened.

Today was the day. Sage had labored over her artwork for the better part of the week. Her heart thrummed with excitement when she recieved the missive, brought to her by her Father's squire. A commission for portraits of the Advisors and Royal Family, signed off by the Advisor of Finance himself! She simply nodded and collected her acrylics, brushes and pencils. Sage found great comfort painting in late nights by candlelight, windows of the manor left open for the soft moonlit breeze. The gentle wind cut through her night clothes with a cold, sweet kiss. Her work required an intimate understanding of her subjects, and thanks to her inquisitive nature, she was able to occupy her spare time learning about the Advisors and Royal Family from books and word of mouth. Lesser Nobles were always so chatty and found great interest in what their superiors were doing. The summer months were hot, as was the gossip over fine aged wine. 

Her first painting depicted the Advisors and direct Royals surrounding the throne, standing proud and loyal besides the Queen. Sage took special care in detailing the glints of light fluttering through the throne room, bathing the subjects in a white, holy light. They all looked Blest. While information on Blest peoples was still new, with more details beind discovered with every passing season, Sage did her best to enact their ethereal likeness on canvas. 

Next she worked on a portrait of the Queen herself. Sage knew the Queen had been born in Winter, and that she possessed special abilities. She depicted the Queen amongst a thick and snowy wood, warmth and confidence radiating from her face. One would say she carried the energy of Almera into this lifetime. Her dark brown curls melded with the shades of bark on the trees behind her, and they bowed in unison. Around the Queen's frame, Sage illustrated an aura of sunlight, blue sky and fractals. Sage felt a kinship towards the Queen. She came from a bloodline of leadership and unity, and through her actions as Queen brought the ideas of her ancestors to light. Although Sage wondered, if not born from the line of divine duty, would the Queen choose differently, as she did? Would she still choose to lead from the heart, or would she let it take her beyond, and Sage's often did? 

Sage had felt honored to be sequerested for her talent in service to the Royal Family, and to thank the Advisor of Finance, she detailed something just as special for him. Ewan Crowe, in the heart of summer, with his right hand lightly clenched above his heart across his chest. Sage had been around Almeran enough to hear the whispers of his grief, the darkness that pursued his broken yet still beating heart. Love may be the death of duty, but the death of love is the death of all things. She took care to depict his features, tousled hair, bright eyes, and a wry smile. Sage heard Lord Crowe was a witty one.. and wondered if they would make pleasant conversation. To the Lord's top left, a single dove swooped into frame, casting a sublte, almost transluscent rainbow upon his frame. 

Sage also prepared more formal depcitions, of course. Noble family lines in their best clothes, Advisors standing at attention, the Prince atop a magnificiently muscles steed. They were all quite handsome, Sage remarked. Even Ewan Crowe, albeit in a puggish short of way. She blushed at the thought. Sage had never been with any man, nor had she even been kissed. She took stride to erase thoughts from her mind as she approached the Palace, her Father's squire in tow behind her, carrying her canvas with great effort. He was just a young lad, yet carried himself to task with pride. Father would often leave town on explorations, leaving his help to tend to his only daughter. Sage clutched her Star necklace before taking a tentative step up the stairs. 

"Please come in" she heard behind large oak doors, wrought with silver and carved designs. She admired the Palace and the intricate artwork woven into the bones of the building. Sage wondered if she would ever live in such a domain. Father's squire opened the door for her first, and once she walked through to greet the Lord, he set up the paintings. Sage curstied politely, bowing her head ever so slightly. For the special occasion, she donned her soft, periwinkle velvet dress with a modest scoop in the chest, lined with white lace stitching. It fit her snugly in the hips, and flowed downwards, falling just shy of her feet. Sage tied her hair back in her favorite half-up fashion, allowing her waves to glide down her shoulder to her mid back, with small wisps framing her face. Father's assistant allowed them privacy once he set up Sage's many canvases, bowing to ackowledge Lord Crowe, "M'lord" he said, before closing the door gently behind him. 

Sage clasped her hands behind her back, rubbing her thumb across her hand ever so gently. She had seen the Lord from afar, but had not had the chance to meet him face to face. He exerted an energy unlike many - smart, sublte when needed, boisterous when applicable, with eyes that could tell many stories. "I hope you find these to your liking, Lord Crowe" Sage said, freeing one of her hands to gesture at the paintings.