dearprey
okay, this is starting to get creepy— even for me. care to explain?
painteros
sektrjc
━━━ 【 野狐 】 ،، ‘ okay, picasso; show's over. you need to leave these premises. now. ’
painteros
@sektrjc ⠀ ⠀ ⠀„ not at this time. ” following the agent’s direct orders, caelan packed away his art supplies and his drying canvas with utmost care. once he finished packing and the straps of his bags were over his shoulder, he glanced up, a flicker of amusement softening his features. „ but my curiosity’s been piqued. i’ll see you at our usual place for a debrief, dear watson. ”
blackcqt-
do you have a favorite color?
painteros
@blackcqt- ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ caelan hummed in agreement. he glanced down at the coffee cradled between his hands, welcoming the heat chasing away the chills from his fingers. „ before it was a royal navy. i could never quite replicate the pigment no matter how many times i mixed the paints. it coveys elegance and reliability. and if i saw someone who wore the color well, it stirred something in me. ” he lifted the cup to his lips, an attempt to hide the faint blush that crept onto his cheeks from the quiet confession.
blackcqt-
i look forward to it, then. ( her lips tug up, eyes shutting for a mere moment. the familiar scent of coffee hit her, filling her with warmth. it brought back many fond memories, her smile deepening. she doesn’t let the nostalgia turn bittersweet, speaking again. ) what was it before brown? your favorite color, i mean.
painteros
@blackcqt- ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ his hand paused halfway for his takeaway cup, his eyes lifting to her in mild surprise at her enthusiasm. „ yes, once the lavender is in season. ” the coffee was still too hot to drink, its warmth seeping through the paper bit at his fingertips and tested his patience. he removed the lid and watched the faint curl of steam soften the air between them. „ there’s a field not too far from my home where they grow. we’ll go there on a day that would suit the painting, which i have time to figure out. ”
silksnows
... was it you who painted the piece fixtured on that wall over there?
painteros
* ⠀ ⠀ ⠀cb for a one-liner. i will get to responses soon!
obsidiancrown
painted fire
painteros
@obsidiancrown ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ caelan’s gaze followed the faint shimmer in the air before returning to veytharion. „ i don’t ask anyone to sit still. if i were to paint you, i’d rather see how the world reacts around you, what shifts when you move through it. my studio hides that. ” his eyes flicked briefly to the canvas, then back. „ there’s a stretch of river not far from here. the light there has a way of revealing what the walls keep. ” a pause, thoughtful rather than suggestive. “ come there with me on another day. let’s see what the flame does when it isn’t trapped. ”
obsidiancrown
veytharion’s smile deepened, slow as a spark catching silk. “convinced," he echoed, the word a low murmur that tasted of smoke. “you speak as if flame bargains. as if it might be reasoned with.” he moved closer, unhurried. the floorboards creaked beneath boots that never quite scorched them, though the faint shimmer of heat made the air between them waver. a few loose sheets of sketch paper curled at their edges, as though bowing to him.
“perhaps you are right,” he allowed, gaze flicking to the still canvas waiting for its subject. “for a moment, i might rest. if your hand proves steady enough.” his head tilted slightly, catching the mortal’s eyes. gold met mortal hue, and for a heartbeat, the studio felt smaller, the world pulled taut between them.
“what will you need of me, caelan?” his voice dropped softer now, threaded with genuine curiosity. “must i sit still as stone, or will you let me burn as i am and trust your art to survive it?” the circlet at his throat pulsed once, faint light flaring in time with his breath. a reminder that he was holding his fire in check, for now.
painteros
@obsidiancrown ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ caelan didn’t startle at the sound of the voice, though the warmth that followed it made the air feel heavier. his fingers stilled on the palette, brush poised midair, and he lifted his gaze toward the intruder. the man, or not quite a man, stood bathed in his own light. he had painted fire before: candles, hearths, sunsets, but never anything that breathed. he set the brush down carefully. „ people say many things, ” he said. „ that my work moves, that it breathes. i think they forget that life never really holds still. ” his gaze lingered, curious and unafraid. „ but if you wish to be seen … ” his tone softened, a faint smile breaking through, „ then i’ll try. perhaps flame can be convinced to rest, if only for a moment. ”
sunnyruler
“Oh- Hello. Are you the artist I’m supposed to be meeting today?”
sunnyruler
@gatheros Aurinko didn’t notice as he looked at her. She was busy looking out at the scenery she was missing out on past the garden. “They do carry pieces of me, I suppose. I hadn’t thought about that before.” She smiled softly then, a gentle smile turning up the corners of her mouth. When he mentioned wanting to see her paintings, the redhead turned towards him with a look of surprise.” You want to see my paintings? Really?” There was a slight twinkle in her eyes almost.” They’re not very good, and my husband hates them, but he lets me keep them around anyway.”
painteros
@sunnyruler ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ caelan’s eyes lingered on her face for a moment before drifting to the blank canvas, then back again. a quiet smile tugged at his mouth. „ you make it sound like your paintings carry pieces of you, ” he said. „ i’d like to see them, if you don’t mind showing me. it seems only fair i know the kind of world i’m stepping into before i try to add to it. ” he nodded toward the untouched canvas, voice softer now. „ this one can wait a little. i think yours should speak first. ” * ⠀ ⠀ ⠀i promise cael actually does paint aurinko! he’s just in the observation/research phase
painteros
* ⠀ ⠀ ⠀revised cael’s lore yesterday with a little fantasy/horror-like twist. his new story is below. cb for a liner if he’s up your alley
painteros
* ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ caelan was no ordinary painter. his canvases were said to breathe — literally. the air seemed to bend around his brushstrokes, and when he laid pigment to linen, it was as if color and shadow conspired to wrestle free from their two-dimensional prison.
he emerged from obscurity with a single portrait: a boy clutching a toy of a wooden horse. to those who viewed it, the horse shifted ever so slightly, its head tilting to meet their gaze. a noble purchased the painting, and within a week, his servants swore they heard a child’s giggle echoing in the corridor where the portrait hung, though no child had lived there or had been spotted on the property.
from then, caelan’s fame spread like wildfire. anyone with pretty coins clamored for his work. each unveiled painting was whispered about for far more than its artistry. for instance, a maid cleaning the royal gallery fainted when the painted queen on the wall leaned close and whispered her name, her painted lips glistening as if damp with breath. she woke three days later, unable to describe what else she had heard. meanwhile, in the manor of lord fenric, a portrait of his late wife sang lullabies at night. months later, the lord was found dead in his study, his head laid peacefully upon the frame. and for a scholar who commissioned an image of the sea, he claimed he could hear gulls and smell brine whenever he lingered near it. one evening, saltwater was found to pool beneath the frame and the scholar was gone.
painteros
these rumors only heightened the worth of his paintings, a mark of prestige was bestowed on the collectors.
as for the painter, he remained an enigma. he never spoke of his process, only that his brush required silence, and his models required patience. he never denied the rumors, nor did he confirm them. his only known statement, when pressed by a king’s steward about the “accidents” surrounding his works, was this:
„ art must live, else it is only pigment and cloth. what is life, if not unruly? ”
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fantasy painter oc created by silenthyme.
mature themes, semi-lit