Post by rosiexrainbow on Aug 18, 2009 3:46:55 GMT 10
Title: The Artist and the Clerk
Author: rosiexrainbow
Fandom: Tamora Pierce’s Tortall
Rating: PG
Summary: Perin wants to quit his job as master of Palace Stores to become an artist – he knows exactly who to talk to.
Length: 732 words.
Author's Notes: My first fic on here, so please be nice?
Perin Longleigh had always considered his life to be good. He had worked his way up from a lowly novice to the master of Palace Stores; he was in control of supplying the palace with everything its residents needed, from food, clothing and weapons to kohl and lipstick and promiscuous underclothes. He had a few good friends, a modest Upper Corus apartment, a cottage by the sea (for when the monarchs moved to the Summer Palace in June) and two cats. He did not, however, have anyone whom he wished to court. The servants in the stores found this hilarious, and made constant jokes and snide comments about it. He was adamant he would never tell anyone about his courting of Daine Sarrasri the Wildmage, even if this meant he endured the taunts of the servants. He never really understood why he was so ashamed of once wanting to bed Veralidaine. But Perin no longer cared about the unpleasant and frivolous workings of the opposite sex - and this was exactly what his co-workers laughed about, for, although nothing was confirmed, many people had their suspicions about Perin Longleigh.
He could never recall what prompted him to pay a visit to the Court's most talked about artist.
Volney Rain had no interest in the opposite sex either, and unlike Perin he was most open about the subject. Being gossiped about in Court didn't bother the artist, for he knew his fair share of gossip about the Court. Despite his "tendencies," he was most sought after by the young noblewomen residing in Corus. They fancied themselves in love with him, and sighed over his beautiful and thoroughly popular artwork. Some even befriended him, whether in a vain attempt to tumble him, as a way of annoying their conservative parents, or because they liked the novelty of a best friend like him. Volney's rooms were in the Palace; apparently the bedspread was pink and the walls covered with rough sketches, but nobody knew for certain, even though many rumours existed about the company he invited back there. Volney Rain considered his full lips, wavy brown locks, deep brown eyes and thick, curling eyelashes as his greatest asset; most other people thought his talent as an artist far surpassed his beauty.
Perin had only ever been to visit Volney once before; he had wanted to order a portrait of his mother for her birthday. Now he was simply paying a social visit to a man with a dubious reputation and pink silken bedsheets. Nothing happened, they simply spent over four hours sat with a bottle of the finest Marenite wine and talked - simply talked, and shared tales of the palace and it's residents. Just before the midnight hour Perin stumbled home, and on arriving at his apartment, cleared a space on his heavily laden workdesk. Pulling out a lead pencil, he began to draw.
The following day he awoke with his (slightly aching) head on his desk and a multitude of sketches stuck to his cheek. The clerk rushed to Corus Palace in search of a certain Mr. Rain. Knocking on the door, he shuffled from foot to foot as he clasped his rough sketches in sweaty palms. When Volney answered the door, loincloth-clad, Perin blushed and looked at his feet, making a mental note to order himself some new shoes. These ones are getting quite threadbare.
Volney cleared his throat, waiting for Perin to speak. The younger man murmured, "I wish to train to be an artist. Like you."
Volney raised delicately plucked eyebrows.
"You can’t learn art; it is something which is natural and right for those who embrace it. It does not appeal to all." Perin wondered if he was imagining the double meaning in the words.
"You can't learn art," and Perin knew this, so he sketched a portrait of Volney right there, right then, just to show that he could do it. Then he handed the artist his sketches from the previous night. Volney looked at them, and a small smile played around his full lips.
Perin smiled in return, for these were the first pieces of artwork he had done in the past six years that weren't of Veralidaine Sarrasri.
He remembered the double meaning in Volney's words and, as the artist stepped back from the threshold of his rooms, Perin took a deep breath and entered.
Author: rosiexrainbow
Fandom: Tamora Pierce’s Tortall
Rating: PG
Summary: Perin wants to quit his job as master of Palace Stores to become an artist – he knows exactly who to talk to.
Length: 732 words.
Author's Notes: My first fic on here, so please be nice?
Perin Longleigh had always considered his life to be good. He had worked his way up from a lowly novice to the master of Palace Stores; he was in control of supplying the palace with everything its residents needed, from food, clothing and weapons to kohl and lipstick and promiscuous underclothes. He had a few good friends, a modest Upper Corus apartment, a cottage by the sea (for when the monarchs moved to the Summer Palace in June) and two cats. He did not, however, have anyone whom he wished to court. The servants in the stores found this hilarious, and made constant jokes and snide comments about it. He was adamant he would never tell anyone about his courting of Daine Sarrasri the Wildmage, even if this meant he endured the taunts of the servants. He never really understood why he was so ashamed of once wanting to bed Veralidaine. But Perin no longer cared about the unpleasant and frivolous workings of the opposite sex - and this was exactly what his co-workers laughed about, for, although nothing was confirmed, many people had their suspicions about Perin Longleigh.
He could never recall what prompted him to pay a visit to the Court's most talked about artist.
Volney Rain had no interest in the opposite sex either, and unlike Perin he was most open about the subject. Being gossiped about in Court didn't bother the artist, for he knew his fair share of gossip about the Court. Despite his "tendencies," he was most sought after by the young noblewomen residing in Corus. They fancied themselves in love with him, and sighed over his beautiful and thoroughly popular artwork. Some even befriended him, whether in a vain attempt to tumble him, as a way of annoying their conservative parents, or because they liked the novelty of a best friend like him. Volney's rooms were in the Palace; apparently the bedspread was pink and the walls covered with rough sketches, but nobody knew for certain, even though many rumours existed about the company he invited back there. Volney Rain considered his full lips, wavy brown locks, deep brown eyes and thick, curling eyelashes as his greatest asset; most other people thought his talent as an artist far surpassed his beauty.
Perin had only ever been to visit Volney once before; he had wanted to order a portrait of his mother for her birthday. Now he was simply paying a social visit to a man with a dubious reputation and pink silken bedsheets. Nothing happened, they simply spent over four hours sat with a bottle of the finest Marenite wine and talked - simply talked, and shared tales of the palace and it's residents. Just before the midnight hour Perin stumbled home, and on arriving at his apartment, cleared a space on his heavily laden workdesk. Pulling out a lead pencil, he began to draw.
The following day he awoke with his (slightly aching) head on his desk and a multitude of sketches stuck to his cheek. The clerk rushed to Corus Palace in search of a certain Mr. Rain. Knocking on the door, he shuffled from foot to foot as he clasped his rough sketches in sweaty palms. When Volney answered the door, loincloth-clad, Perin blushed and looked at his feet, making a mental note to order himself some new shoes. These ones are getting quite threadbare.
Volney cleared his throat, waiting for Perin to speak. The younger man murmured, "I wish to train to be an artist. Like you."
Volney raised delicately plucked eyebrows.
"You can’t learn art; it is something which is natural and right for those who embrace it. It does not appeal to all." Perin wondered if he was imagining the double meaning in the words.
"You can't learn art," and Perin knew this, so he sketched a portrait of Volney right there, right then, just to show that he could do it. Then he handed the artist his sketches from the previous night. Volney looked at them, and a small smile played around his full lips.
Perin smiled in return, for these were the first pieces of artwork he had done in the past six years that weren't of Veralidaine Sarrasri.
He remembered the double meaning in Volney's words and, as the artist stepped back from the threshold of his rooms, Perin took a deep breath and entered.