Pitcher clapped a hand to his forehead and sighed. He was caught completely off-guard, having been too engrossed in the art. So when some random girl snuck up right next to him and told him she's a royal, he got piss scared, and rightfully so.
He looked back up at the girl who stood and looked down at him. What struck him immediately were her eyes, they were two different colors. One was bright brown and the other was light gray. And they were pretty. Incredibly pretty. They reflected the chandelier light beautifully, the streaks of color in her eyes refracted the yellow glow and for a moment Pitcher forgot about the paintings. One word described them: Iridescent.
The next thing he noticed was the uniform she was wearing. A mini dress cape sat atop her shoulders. It was a striking dark blue color that complimented the white of her high buttoned top. On the left breast pocket was an embossed crest. The insignia of the Academy. She also wore a similar blue knee length skirt with white socks and brown travelling boots. All in all it was a very posh look.
"Did I scare you?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows, a grin plastered on her face. She put out a hand to help him up.
Pitcher ignored the outstretched hand and just rolled backwards shooting to his feet like he would in a fight.
The girl looked at him in grudging admiration. "No need to show off then, stupid."
"That wasn't showing off, also how did you get in here? I didn't see you downstairs and you definitely didn't climb the stairs. . ."
The girl pointed lazily at the window and smirked. Her smirk betrayed a hint of pride.
"Ah. . . good." A silence followed. The boy was at a standstill. He had no idea how to talk to people. He cursed himself silently for being so solitary.
Noticing that the boy seemed lost for words, the girl started laughing again.
"What is it this time!?" Pitcher asked, indignant.
"You're really bad at this huh?"
"No. . . no -wh -what are you talking about?" Pitcher went with the age old strategy of feigning confusion.
"Yeah no," she said, chuckling, "What's your name then?"
"Pitcher."
"Really!? that's a name?"
Pitcher felt dismayed. All the while he had felt proud of himself for thinking up that name. It was simple, inconspicuous and easy to remember. He never once considered that it didn't sound like a name. "Well then what about Waters then? water is the stuff I drink. . ." Another awkward silence followed. Pitcher wanted to die.
"Uh huh. . ." The girl seemed unsure as to whether Pitcher was being stupid on purpose, or whether he was drunk. "Well anyway Pitcher, where are you from?"
"Not around here, don't worry. . ." More awkward silence. Don't worry. . . don't worry? Why the fuck did I add don't worry!? Pitcher badly wanted to jump off a cliff. Thankfully the girl seemed amused, not creeped out, yet.
"So then Pitcher who's not from around here -" she smirked "-why're you at the art gallery?"
"Uh. . . because I like art. . .?" Pitcher realized his mistake of not giving enough context and rectified the problem. "Um -I mean, I really like Rainbow Syntax Weaving, and de'Blaugh's works are amazing to look at, and like the sculptures too. The way they've managed to carve out such intricate works from -like, just stone most of the time. It's like they saw the sculpture before they started sculpting. The skill needed is just. . . astounding. And some of the early fae's art really give any idea of what Estren was before all of the conquests and the Magic. The works depicting objects are really good for inspiration -like, err, Chimbester's apples. The way the apples look more like apples than actual apples do is what's so amazing. And their color systems, the way they've mixed some of the colors is just. . . Devil take me, its just so good! I wish I could draw like some of them. And this is the first gallery I've been to so its kinda special to me and -oh yea Cosoravo stempil's paintings of hell are also amazing, its no wonder that people say he's the emissary to hell, you'd almost believe that he actually went to hell -"
YOU ARE READING
Recompense for a Lost Soul
FantasíaWith his parents presumed dead or missing and with no one to care for him, a nameless infant was sold into a ruthless group of mercenaries where he suffered for ten years of his life before escaping and vanishing from the world. Four years later a r...
