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rainbowfic2021-04-30 11:47 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2021-04-30 11:47 pm
Cadmium Yellow 19, Color of the Day, Paris Green 11: Portrait
Author: Kat
Title: Portrait
Story: Shine Like It Does
Colors: Cadmium yellow 19 (Art is not a mirror, art is a hammer.), color of the day (arboreal), Paris green 11 (Mona Lisa) with shadowsong's paint-by-numbers (Miranda smiled at him.)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Bridgerton/Regency AU), eraser (Regency AU), yarn (pink_moon1024.jpg>cherry blossoms and the moon)
Word Count: 672
Rating: G
Summary: Felix paints a portrait.
Warning: none.
Notes: I don't think Miranda actually has a husband-to-be yet, but you can't be too prepared.
Felix rather enjoyed doing portraits, unlike the rest of the artists in his little circle. It wasn't properly Romantic, they'd moan. You could put in some nature, and of course beauty was the ideal, but it wasn't properly creative. Paint a portrait and you were just doing it to earn a little money so your properly Romantic works could flourish.
But Felix liked portraits. He liked trying to capture that certain something about a person's eyes, or smile, so well that that their loved ones would gasp in recognition. Besides that, portraits were tricky- fabric was harder to paint than one might expect, and he couldn't even begin on lace. It took more practice than his friends thought, perhaps.
At any rate, portrait requests were always routed to Felix, which was how he came to be sitting across the room from Miss Miranda Hennessy, trying to capture the slight curve of her smile in a way that didn't look artificial or cruel.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"Oh," Felix said, and then, "No, not at all. Why do you ask?"
"You made a face," Miss Hennessy said.
He tried a smile of his own. "I do that. Sometimes the painting isn't working the way I wish it to."
"Mm." Somehow, without changing her expression, she grew a bit amused. "I imagine I am a difficult subject."
Felix tilted his head. "No more so than than any other subject," he said. "Everyone has their quirks."
"Oh?" This time she did move, but only to arch an eyebrow. Since he'd changed to the curve of neck and bosom above her pale blue high-waisted gown, it didn't matter much. "And what is mine?"
"Your smile," Felix said, absently. A twist of the wrist and her collarbone lay clear on the canvas. "I don't think I've ever painted anyone who smiles the way you do."
Her smile grew a hair broader. "Truly? You should paint my sister, then."
"I've met your sister," he said. "I've seen her smile. It's not the same. Bigger, I think."
"Brighter," Miss Hennessy said. "Charlotte is... happier, than I am."
He raised his eyes from the painting and met hers-- extravagently lashed, perfectly shaped, easily drawn. "Oh? May I ask why?"
Miss Hennessy shrugged, a minute movement that settled immediately back into her pose. "Any number of reasons. I don't mind it. I should like both my siblings to be happier than I am." Her smile grew another tiny bit. "Perhaps you could paint me happier in the portrait. I'm sure my husband-to-be would prefer it."
Felix dropped his eyes to his canvas. "If you like," he said. "I prefer to paint my subjects as they are. But it is your portrait, not mine."
"Perhaps," she said, and then, "Yes. As I am, then. Let it be a mirror. He ought to know what he's getting into, anyway."
"Very well," he said, then paused.
He had sketched in the background last night, setting her among the peonies and roses of her family's flower garden. It wasn't an unsuitable background, precisely; her dress and hair stood out to perfection, and certainly an English lady would like to be pictured among flowers. But somehow...
"Miss Hennessy," he said, finally, "I think that will be all for today. I need to redo the background."
She rose, gracefully, and paced back to look at the painting. "Why? Flowers are fine."
"Fine, yes," he said. "But they aren't right. I'll show you the new one tomorrow, if I might?"
"Oh, certainly," she said. "My portrait is in your hands, Mr. Alvarez. I look forward to seeing what you create."
Trees, he thought, as she left the room, closing the door silently behind her. A forest, dark trees arching behind her, mist and moonlight and perhaps a still pond. Something more Gothic than flowers, if this portrait was to show her as she was. Whoever said you couldn't make a portrait Romantic?
Maybe then, when he'd put her in her proper setting, he'd get her smile right.
Title: Portrait
Story: Shine Like It Does
Colors: Cadmium yellow 19 (Art is not a mirror, art is a hammer.), color of the day (arboreal), Paris green 11 (Mona Lisa) with shadowsong's paint-by-numbers (Miranda smiled at him.)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Bridgerton/Regency AU), eraser (Regency AU), yarn (pink_moon1024.jpg>cherry blossoms and the moon)
Word Count: 672
Rating: G
Summary: Felix paints a portrait.
Warning: none.
Notes: I don't think Miranda actually has a husband-to-be yet, but you can't be too prepared.
Felix rather enjoyed doing portraits, unlike the rest of the artists in his little circle. It wasn't properly Romantic, they'd moan. You could put in some nature, and of course beauty was the ideal, but it wasn't properly creative. Paint a portrait and you were just doing it to earn a little money so your properly Romantic works could flourish.
But Felix liked portraits. He liked trying to capture that certain something about a person's eyes, or smile, so well that that their loved ones would gasp in recognition. Besides that, portraits were tricky- fabric was harder to paint than one might expect, and he couldn't even begin on lace. It took more practice than his friends thought, perhaps.
At any rate, portrait requests were always routed to Felix, which was how he came to be sitting across the room from Miss Miranda Hennessy, trying to capture the slight curve of her smile in a way that didn't look artificial or cruel.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"Oh," Felix said, and then, "No, not at all. Why do you ask?"
"You made a face," Miss Hennessy said.
He tried a smile of his own. "I do that. Sometimes the painting isn't working the way I wish it to."
"Mm." Somehow, without changing her expression, she grew a bit amused. "I imagine I am a difficult subject."
Felix tilted his head. "No more so than than any other subject," he said. "Everyone has their quirks."
"Oh?" This time she did move, but only to arch an eyebrow. Since he'd changed to the curve of neck and bosom above her pale blue high-waisted gown, it didn't matter much. "And what is mine?"
"Your smile," Felix said, absently. A twist of the wrist and her collarbone lay clear on the canvas. "I don't think I've ever painted anyone who smiles the way you do."
Her smile grew a hair broader. "Truly? You should paint my sister, then."
"I've met your sister," he said. "I've seen her smile. It's not the same. Bigger, I think."
"Brighter," Miss Hennessy said. "Charlotte is... happier, than I am."
He raised his eyes from the painting and met hers-- extravagently lashed, perfectly shaped, easily drawn. "Oh? May I ask why?"
Miss Hennessy shrugged, a minute movement that settled immediately back into her pose. "Any number of reasons. I don't mind it. I should like both my siblings to be happier than I am." Her smile grew another tiny bit. "Perhaps you could paint me happier in the portrait. I'm sure my husband-to-be would prefer it."
Felix dropped his eyes to his canvas. "If you like," he said. "I prefer to paint my subjects as they are. But it is your portrait, not mine."
"Perhaps," she said, and then, "Yes. As I am, then. Let it be a mirror. He ought to know what he's getting into, anyway."
"Very well," he said, then paused.
He had sketched in the background last night, setting her among the peonies and roses of her family's flower garden. It wasn't an unsuitable background, precisely; her dress and hair stood out to perfection, and certainly an English lady would like to be pictured among flowers. But somehow...
"Miss Hennessy," he said, finally, "I think that will be all for today. I need to redo the background."
She rose, gracefully, and paced back to look at the painting. "Why? Flowers are fine."
"Fine, yes," he said. "But they aren't right. I'll show you the new one tomorrow, if I might?"
"Oh, certainly," she said. "My portrait is in your hands, Mr. Alvarez. I look forward to seeing what you create."
Trees, he thought, as she left the room, closing the door silently behind her. A forest, dark trees arching behind her, mist and moonlight and perhaps a still pond. Something more Gothic than flowers, if this portrait was to show her as she was. Whoever said you couldn't make a portrait Romantic?
Maybe then, when he'd put her in her proper setting, he'd get her smile right.
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