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"I'll take two," Valienta cradles two small wheels of cheese as they are handed to her. The experience of wandering through the marketplace would seem far more pleasant to Arden if she were allowed to be lost in her thoughts, absorbing the details. Father's paint strokes are so soft, so gentle, so easy to follow and interpret. Arden wonders what it might be like to abandon that style and try to capture the feel of a subject within a painting. Details dance around in every corner of Arden's senses. The way fruit bruises, causing a natural color scheme to develop, the ripples of wine as the last drop submerges into a full glass. Senses that are meant to be enjoyed, not overlooked, are often just that: overlooked.

"Carry this," Valienta hands Arden her basket of bread and fresh fruits. "We shall have supper outside tonight. I think that would be refreshing. I have such a terrible headache. Your father says he left a window open to air the attic but I woke in the night and I would've sworn I could smell paint. I do wish he would take his work to the Painter's Guild. Perhaps I could be free of all those strange odors then."

Arden feels her skin flush, the mere idea of being discovered causes her stomach to turn over. If Valienta were to find out her daughter was not only observing painting but also partaking in it, Arden would surely suffer the consequences. Perhaps not all families are as strict about their daughter's interests but Valienta has always made it unquestionably clear how her daughters best hope their live's unfold. Those parameters leave no room for indulgences such as painting or personal interests that make no notable profit.

"I heard Indra mention that they were introducing a study of art in the College." Arden hints, merely wondering if Indra is above the standards Arden is held to simply because she is more compliant.

"Education in fine arts and culture is beneficial to a young woman. I'm glad they are exposing her to that, however, I hope it doesn't go to her head. Artwork makes enough money to buy more paint and canvas. Maybe a few nicer pieces of clothes. It doesn't uplift a family's status."

"Perhaps status isn't everything." Arden tests the waters.

"Status isn't everything. But it is desireable. Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to not have to work as hard as we do every day?"

"I suppose I don't mind hard work."

"I don't either but I wonder and much like your father dreams, I dream too."

Arden instantly glimpses a side of her mother she has never seen. "What do you dream of?"

Valienta hesitates, stopping alongside the railing of a canal. Her eyes, tired and wrinkling with age find those of her daughter. "My mother always told me she wanted better for me than she had for herself. All I dream of is seeing you and your sisters go farther in life than I have. I dreamed of doing better for myself, finding an easier life, but those dreams made way for your father's. I knew I was marrying an artist but I thought he would grow and mature as I did." She hesitates, her eyes passing over the canal to the sunlight fading on the sides of the homes across the way. "He grew and matured but...his desires very much strayed from mine and I suppose I faded into the background. His loves included painting. And you. They left no room for me and no room for practicallity."

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