That Was You?

Writers: Ames, Eimi
Date Posted: 28th May 2013

Characters: Elmaldi, Vestian
Description: The student and teacher discover a shared past and it brings them closer
Location: Harper Hall
Date: month 13, day 27 of Turn 6

Vestian

Elmaldi sat gazing at the canvas in front of her. She'd been working
to create and mix her own colors the way Vestian had taught her to
paint a simple scene she had sketched before her. Her eyes, however,
kept darting to the man who was sitting in the room with her. He was
intent on whatever he was doing, giving her time to work on her piece.
She turned back to her painting and tried to create just the right
color green for the grassy land she was working on.

Looking up again, she wished he would look her way. She _wanted_ him
to look her way.

"I think I've gotten the hang of mixing some of the colors, now," she
told him as she held up her palette with the new green she had made.
"I think this is a perfect shade for grass. Don't you?"

Vestian finished his stroke before looking up from his sketch. "The
grass should be whatever color you imagine it to be," he said, not
seeing that it really needed his approval, before looking back down at
his drawing.

It was not really anything that he had been asked to do, rather
something to pass the time while he monitored his apprentice's work.
But as he just doodled a picture of the cup of klah and plate of
crackers that had been left of his midday snack, somehow the image had
just grown to include the corner of a table, a book flipped open to a
page. Now his imagination was working on just what kind of book it
might be. A picture book he decided. But pictures of what?

Elmaldi frowned and turned back to her picture. **Whatever shade I
imagine, well that will have to do then.** She hoped she'd mixed the
colors right. Her grass strokes weren't perfect, but they were
acceptable. Her painting skills had improved, but it still wasn't as
easy for her as regular pencil drawings. She felt she had so much more
control over a pencil. Grabbing her brush she worked on the painting,
slowing trying to add texture to the building she'd included. Yet,
each time she did, the colors just seemed to glob together in her
mind, not looking realistic at all on the canvas.

"I can't seem to get the shades of the stone to look real," she half
stated, half asked as she looked up towards Vestian, wishing he was
standing over her as he had done in their earlier lessons. She'd
_liked_ having him so close to her.

"That's because it's a painting, Elmadi, not a real building." He
glanced
up at the canvass and could see right away what was missing. "Don't
forget to blend. You're not painting stone, you're _blending_ stone."
With that he went back to his sketch, turning it so he could work on
the picture book a bit easier.

She heaved a sigh, wishing for more of a response from Vestian.
"Right," she replied, some of her enthusiasm gone. She did, however,
turn back to her work, making sure to blend the stones, hoping that he
would notice. Glancing up again, she frowned. He wasn't even _looking_
at her. She turned her head slightly trying to see what he _was_
working on.

"Oh, your sketch looks amazing. I love sketch work," Elmaldi
commented, her curiosity piqued.

He looked up at her with a puzzled look. "What, this?" His look was
rather doubtful. "This is just a doodle, really. It's... nothing." It
certainly wasn't up to par with his commissioned work. He wasn't
exactly renowned for his still art pieces. Of course, most of those
were just for his own private enjoyment and not meant for others to look
at. That she would act so impressed did surprise him a bit.

"It's _very_ good," Elmaldi replied, noting the line work and the
texture he'd been able to add with the pencil. "I mean it nearly leaps
off the page as though it were alive. That's always when I know I've
captured something with pen and pencil in the best possible way. The
image seems to come alive for me."

"I don't know if it's all that good," he said with just the slightest
hint of humility. It wasn't bad, for sure, but it wasn't his best. He
stood up and walked over to a large file he had on his work table. "I
have better ones in here, actually." At least, ones that stood up to
Vestian's exacting standards that he held for himself.

She watched him with eager eyes, following his every move.

"Oh, you have more? May I see them?" Elmaldi asked, setting her own
painting brush aside for the moment as she rose and moved towards him.
She wanted to be closer to him, felt herself almost pulled towards
him.

"Here," he said flipping open the file and pulling out the first sheet.
"This is my drawing of a broken paint pot. Perhaps I should have been
cleaning it up, but I just liked the way the shards of pottery stuck out
of the pool of paint, and the jagged edges around the rim." Vestian
moved over slightly to allow her a better view.

Elmaldi moved closer, feeling the heat of his own body as she drew
near. Her fingers reached out to trace the lines on the page.

"You really captured the broken shards well here, and I can even see
the dirt from the pot as though I was looking at the real thing.
Amazing work. I'd like to work on some of those techniques myself,"
she gushed, eager to examine the artwork closer and see exactly what
he had done to make the pot so real and vivid in the image so she
could mimic the skills he had utilized.

Vestian puffed up a little under the praise. He was rather proud of
that one. And she certainly caught all the subtleties he had worked so
hard to incorporate. It made him eager to show her more. "Here's
another one that I did when they were moving the instrument shop over to
the new Hall a few months ago." He laid out the sheet in front of her.
In it he had captured a moment in which the workmen had left their work
half finished as they took a break for lunch. Half finished instruments
were stacked together in piles in the corner of the room, with the tools
used to create them laying around. Would she see the beauty in the
apparent chaos of the scene as he had?

Elmaldi chuckled a bit at the scene before her. "Best not show that
one to the instrument makers, they might fuss about the disarray that
had been around them." She paused and looked closer, "Yet, you can
see, here," she pointed, "that the men cared greatly about the
instruments they were moving. Look how lovingly this one had been
placed against the wall, and over here, this one, that looks as though
it's sitting haphazardly, is really being tilted just so so nothing
gets into the drum to damage the inside. Beautifully captured." She
finished. When she looked up at him, her eyes shown with light and
admiration at his work.

And Vestian's glowed with pleasure at her praise. **They are right,**
he thought, his lips spreading into a grin. **An apt pupil really can
be a joy to teach.** Though he had thought it would be a great
challenge to train up one of the next great artists, he had never
expected that he would enjoy the experience. "You have a fine eye for
detail, Elmaldi. I can see why Master Grayvor was so proud of you."

She beamed at his words of praise. Her whole body felt warm and tingly
at his words.

"Thank you, Master Vestian. You have no idea what your words mean to
me," she gushed happily, "it was _your_ art that inspired me to pursue
harpering." She hadn't _meant_ to say anything, but in the light of
his praise, she just couldn't contain herself. Every dream of hers
seemed to be coming true in ways she hadn't even realized or imagined.

His eyebrows twitched with surprise. "_My_ art?" How had this girl
known anything of him before coming to the Hall?

She blushed all the way down to the roots of her hair. "Oh yes," she
answered, unable to contain herself. "One of your murals hung at the
Hold where my parents lived and worked. I would stare at it for hours
on end and try and duplicate what I saw. The harper there saw me and
encouraged my talents and helped me come here." She looked a bit
sheepish as she turned her eyes down slightly. "But it was _your_
mural that gave me the inspiration to work hard and to strive towards
the same level of excellence."

He was intrigued by what it was that could have caught a young person's
attention so. It was incredibly flattering to think that his mural had
spawned such creativity in such an obviously talented girl. His ego
demanded he know just what it was she found so inspirational in his
work! "Which Hold was it?"

She watched him and then replied, "Soft Sands Hold." Her memories of
growing up there flooded over her. "I was actually _there_ when you
painted the mural," she added on a soft whisper. She didn't think he'd
remember her. She'd stood off to a corner most of the time and watched
him work. It had fascinated her. _He_ had fascinated her, even then.

"I remember Soft Sands..." The mural had depicted several scenes from
the Hold's history. It was one of his earlier works, but it certainly
had brought attention to his work. He could picture the Hold, and a few
of the faces there. But none of those faces looked like Emaldi. And
yet, she would have been much younger than... There was one small
memory that was starting to come into focus, though it was still as yet
blurry in his mind's eye. "You said you were there? You mean you were
at the Hold? Or do you mean that you were _watching_ me?"

She blushed. Did he remember her? Elmaldi had to look away for a
moment, before turning back, knowing there was no reason to _hide_ her
admiration of him.

"I watched you. Nearly every day from a corner in the room when you
first arrived. It was fascinating to watch what was an empty, bare
wall turn into something alive with light, life, color." When he'd
found her there by accident one day, he'd even shown her some parts
of the mural. She'd simply stared at him then, almost the way she
still did at times. She'd continued to come and watch him. Most days
he didn't acknowledge her, so she assumed he didn't know she was
there. But, every once in a while, he would catch her eye, talk to her
for a few snatches of time here and there. Elmaldi cherished those
memories. Watching him work had led her to follow the path she now
trod upon.

"That was _you_?" Vestian remembered the little girl who would stand
there silently as he worked. At first it had unnerved him, and he just
ignored her. He didn't mind people watching him work as long as they
didn't disturb him. An artist could be a form of entertainment for the
people in the Hold. But it was the same girl coming again and again,
just standing there watching him. As time went on, Vestian had become
accustomed to her presence. He would almost miss having "his little
admirer" as he came to think of her when she was off in Harper classes.
From time to time they would talk, he remembered, though he couldn't
recall a single thing they had talked about. It was just her being
there that had left an impression. Of course, it was not nearly as
strong as the one he had left on her.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea. I remember..." **that little girl,** he
almost said. But it sounded almost rude to call her a just a "little
girl" when she was standing right in front of him. And she was most
certainly changed into a young woman now. "I remember you."

He actually remembered her! Elmaldi felt her heart jump at the very
thought. **He remembers me!** She wanted to dance and shout for joy at
that realization. Instead she managed to reign in her racing thoughts
and emotions.

"I...I didn't think you'd remember me. I didn't even know you noticed
me all that much, to be honest." Yet, _she_ had definitely noticed
_him_. She'd become enamored with him even then. It was not something
she'd ever have told anyone about, but just something she'd kept
tucked inside her little girl heart. The heart that had grown into the
young woman now who found herself just as attracted, if not more so,
to the much more experienced man before her. Now, what she felt wasn't
_just_ a little girl crush. She knew more about the things between a
man and a woman than she did at ten turns old. Elmaldi was finding
herself attracted to Vestian for more than just his art.

**You must stop this. He has a family. A life. You are just a
student,** She tried to tell herself, but still her mind saw him, a
mix of the man she'd admired so many Turns ago and the man she found
herself falling in love with in the present.

"I spent many nights after you left gazing at the mural," she finally
added after some silence had settled between them. She had missed
seeing him each day when the project had finished. "That's when I
truly began drawing in earnest. I tried to mimic what you'd done. I
wanted to be just like you." She blushed further, realizing she had
revealed far more about herself to him than she had to most people.

"Well, hopefully not _just_ like me," he said with a soft chuckle in an
attempt to make light of the conversation. Something about this
conversation was starting to unsettle him a bit. Finding out they had a
shared history, shared memories... It made it seem like they were
talking as real _people_, not just teacher and student. He wasn't quite
sure how to feel about that. His position as a Master made it easy to
keep a boundary set between them. He liked boundaries and clearly
defined roles. They not only made it easy to know what was expected of
him, how he was to behave, but moreover, it built a wall that protected
him from other people. Now that the lines were blurring, he was
starting to feel a little too open, a little too _real_. He wasn't sure
how to react to that.

She laughed at his words. Reaching a hand to swat at his shoulder the
way she would have done with a friend. The instant her hand landed on
his shoulder, she felt an almost searing heat sweep up her arm. She
quickly drew it back. She'd forgotten where she was, who she was with
in that moment.

Ducking her head, she apologized, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done
that." Yet something about their conversation had opened the doorway
between them in that moment. She'd forgotten for then that he was her
teacher. She hoped he wouldn't be angry.

Vestian wasn't angry, but he certainly felt more and more flustered.
"It's... Don't..." He shook his head both in confusion and to dismiss
her apology. It had been an unexpected touch, but he was too confused
to really care at this point. He needed to regain his footing. "So...
Why don't you show me what you've done so far on your work, and we'll go
over blending stones again, ok?"

She blinked, the sudden change in subject throwing her off-guard for a
moment. She felt the wind rush out of her as though disappointed. She
didn't know what she'd expected, but the sudden closeness she'd felt
to him seemed to have vanished.

"Of course," she replied, turning and heading back to her easel to
show him her progress and return to the formality of pupil and teacher
once again.

Last updated on the June 1st 2013

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That Was You?