Archive World of Darkness: The Academy - Artistic Intrigue [Complete]

[Frida Ricci]

(This occurs during the morning of Chapter 4: SSDD)

"Oil, actually. I know it's done, but.. it allows for such variety.. perfect precision, or vague impressionism. Exact lines, or vague shadows. It's so.. adaptable."

Once Ms. Dorn had walked off, Frida flipped open the sketch pad and held it out to him. The resemblance was remarkable - stunning, even. The young woman's attention to detail was immaculate, every angle and shadow and curve as accurate as he had ever seen, especially done with charcoal. And indeed, as he looked at it, he could see that she had caught the desire in his eyes, the fire she had stirred in him as her eyes moved over the curves of his face and neck, making his skin burn and his pulse quicken slightly. It was, in fact, predatory.. almost feral, really. But in a seductive kind of manner that almost made him blush looking at it, realizing that was the way he'd been looking at her.

When he glanced back up at her, she was looking at him, and he realized it was the first time he'd seen her look anything other than calm and collected. Instead, she looked just a touch.. anxious.

"Do you like it? I know it's just a sketch, but I thought it came out nicely..."

[Ravi FitzCoventry]

Sensual almond-shaped eyes regarded Frida with astonishment, then flicked back down to the page, running over the features he'd thought he knew so well. He'd never seen himself through anothers eyes before, and yet the young aristocrat realised that was exactly what he was seeing. It was objective work, and yet it was passionately infused, as though everything this curious girl beside him didn't show was poured out onto the paper through those delicate, charcoal-smudged fingers. Ravi found himself lost in contemplation of it for a long moment before jolting back to awareness.

"I'm sorry..." he apologised, looking at her with a faint flush to his dark skin. "This is fantastic." he told her with unabashed sincerity, his eyes straying back to the drawing. "I see what you meant about 'dangerous'. Do I really look like that to you?" He glanced back at Frida as he spoke to her, green-gold eyes studying her somewhat more soberly than they had hitherto.

[Frida Ricci]

She smiled then - a gentle smile compared to many girls, no jubilant grin or squeaking or hopping up in down for Frida. But the smile brought her careful, normally neutral expression to life for just a moment, before she glanced back down at the drawing briefly and then back up at them.

"Yes.. no. I mean, you did. And mostly, still. Of course, we all change, from one moment to the next. Don't we? Tell me, Ravi.. have you ever been painted?"

She took a step closer to him then, closing the distance between them a little. She reached up for just a moment, her eyes studying him again in that all-seeing way. Her fingertips were close to his skin, as if she were going to brush his dark cheek with those pale, talented fingertips. But she took a step to the side, and then another, as if she were going to circle him. And then, suddenly, she stopped, taking a quick step back, her hand pulling back and her pale cheeks, for the first time, flushing ever so faintly.

"I'm - I'm sorry. I get.. carried away. My father says it's rude, sometimes. He says that great artists are often eccentric. But.." she paused for just a moment, studying his face again briefly, her eyes flickering away from him for just a moment before returning to meet his gaze, looking almost wistful. "You're so Romanesque. Like a statue. Would you.. like to be painted?"

[Ravi FitzCoventry]

"There's no need to apologise, Frida." he said softly, his deep voice bringing a purring tone to her name. "No offense was taken." he reassured the girl without taking his gaze from her face. Nor had he as she had done her curious half-circle and almost timid backstep, all while he had watched her, remaining motionless. So she was human after all, he mused, a faint smile curving his perfect lips as he took in the blush on her pale cheeks.

"I've sat for a portrait before... But that was when I was a child." he smiled more broadly, showing a flash of even white teeth. "It was a dreadful experience for the artist as well as myself, I'm sure. I was a very fidgety child, and easily bored. Not much has changed." He chuckled, then glanced down at the charcoal sketch and the laughter faded away. He looked back up at Frida and noted that the girl was oh-so-very slightly biting her lower lip pensively as she waited for his answer. He carefully closed the book and presented it to her on both hands in a curiously graceful gesture. "Why not? I would be honored to sit for you, Ms Frida."

[Frida Ricci]

The smile flickered across her lips again, a little brighter this time, and had anyone who knew her better than Ravi - or perhaps Mr Bracks, who knew her better than most, been present - they might have died of shock from the sight.

"Wonderful. I am looking forward to it most anxiously."

She took the sketchbook back from him carefully, glancing back down at it for a moment before returning her gaze to him, as if she were studying him again. She felt when she looked at him that same anxious, unsettled feeling that she'd had that morning, waking up in her bed instead of her normal chair, and it was frustrating. She never forgot names, she remembered people she'd met only once, whether it was an art dealer in Paris or a fashion model in Milan. And yet she couldn't seem to recall ever meeting him before, even though she could swear she knew his face.

"Are we previously acquainted, Mr. Fitzcoventry? I know you're new here at Dalton, but.. perhaps your parents are art collectors, and I've seen you at a gallery? Your face seems so familiar, I usually have excellent memory, but.. I seem to be at a bit of a loss, this morning."

[Ravi FitzCoventry]

"Ravi, please." he said with a smile. "As to having seen me before... Maybe in society magazines? Or my father, whom I favor quite heavily. He has quite an extensive art collection that he sponsors out to certain galleries." He paused for a moment. "Come to think of it, I too cannot shake the feeling we have met, if only in passing..." His handsome brow furrowed for a moment, then cleared as he shrugged.

"Perhaps when we were younger? At any rate, I am delighted to make your acquaintance now, and that is more than sufficient." The exotic young man flashed her a roguish grin. "Would you care to accompany me to lunch? I confess that I have no great expectations on the cuisine, but good company should at least distract one from dire dining." Half-turning in a move that would not have been out of place on a catwalk, he presented Frida with his arm. "We can discuss how and when you want to set an appointment for my sitting."

[Frida Ricci]

His suggestion seemed to satisfy her, at least for now. The idea that perhaps they had met at a less advanced age, that the reason she didn't recognize him was because they hadn't met recently or that perhaps she was acquainted with a family member would explain why he seemed so familiar, and yet not. She nodded softly, taking his arm in a way that indicated she was well acquainted with such upper-class society customers, and they began to walk towards the cafeteria. As they walked she spoke, her manner neither timid nor necessarily outgoing.. merely tranquil and unhurried.

"I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived, I must confess. It isn't precisely French cuisine, but it is at least satisfactory. So tell me, Ravi - are you enjoying your time at Dalton so far? Or did you succumb to illness upon your arrival, as many of the rest of us had the poor fortune of doing?"

[Ravi FitzCoventry]

"Others were ill too?" Ravi looked surprised. "Well, I had a case of Dhelhi-belly when I got here. Probably the lobster on the flight, I assumed." He peered at Frida curiously. "You were ill as well?" When she nodded, he 'hrmm'd. "Curious."

As the two of them entered the lunch hall, Ravi looked around. Well, the food didn't smell too bad, at least. One of his flaws (that he actually considered to be such, at any rate) was that he was a finicky eater. He severely hoped the beef casserole wasn't full of nodules and unidentifiable wobbly bits. If there was any worthwhile reason to get oneself kicked out of a school, poor catering was it. Oh, and unflattering uniforms. And possibly lax hygiene rules amongst the students. On reflection, there were probably lots of good reasons not to attend a given school.

The two of them got served and found a vacant table, sitting down across from each other. Ravi poked suspiciously at the casserole, but decided that it was probably sufficient, before looking over at Frida and smiling again. He nodded at her sketchbook.

"Would you mind if I looked at some of your other pieces?" he enquired politely.

Click to reveal..

Technically, Ravi and Frida are in the cafeteria now. If anyone wants to talk to either of them, feel free to jump in.

[Frida Ricci]

"Not at all."

She sat the sketchbook down in front of him, then picked up her glass, taking a sip of water with extra ice. The pages were mixed in content, though this seemed to be her "traveling sketchbook", the one she used to do her quick sketches mostly, like an idea book or perhaps Frida's version of a camera. Some of them were in black and white, and others were in color.

He started at the beginning, and began to work his way towards the drawing of him. There were several in the front of different city scenes, mostly European-looking though the architecture in the sketches varied in origin, as if she'd been on a tour of the continent recently. Those sketches were mostly dated over the summer, so it was a safe assumption that she'd been vacationing during break.

After that they switched to scenes in New York. Frida didn't seem biased in her sketching preferences, at least in subject matter. They seemed like city scenes, mostly - American this time, and a large city like New York or Chicago. There were sketches of rich people and poor people, elegant skyscrapers and run-down ethnic cafes usually found on the rougher side of town. The people, or sometimes parts of people that she drew were of all shades, and so he assumed all colors. But no matter their condition or situation, they all had one thing in common. They were all drawn perfectly - not idealistic perfection, but the perfection of someone who caught every minute detail, and deemed it worth including. The wrinkle at the corner of a woman's eye, the over-processed frizz of a woman's hair, the elegant scar snaking up the side of a man's cheek. Frida captured them all, and didn't exclude any of it.

It was only as he was reaching the middle of the book, the drawings right before him, that the subject matter seemed to change. These pictures were every bit as precise, but they were the first he'd seen that weren't realistic. These pictures looked fantastical, like someone from a horrific fantasy or a macabre vision. Odd and unsettling as the young woman across from him might be upon first interactions (and indeed, most never got much further than that), none of her previous work carried much in the way of fantasy or imagination. Frida's work seemed infinitely more focused on capturing the everyday realities of life. This.. this was different. And so real, so vivid and lifelike in it's presence, it was unsettling.

The sketches were of people, but like none he'd ever seen before. They were all in color, this set, which only accentuated some of the oddities of the image. A woman with milk white skin and solid ebony-colored eyes with no whites to them, wearing an oddly-styled uniform and a sword strapped to her thigh. Even more out of context were three others at her side, two identical young men with brown hair and brown eyes, and another with penetrating green eyes and blondish-brown hair. They appeared to be standing with her in a group, but in contrast to her uniform appearance they were dressed in normal clothing.

After that was a pair, male and female. They had odd gray skin and eyes that were reversed from the average person's - white pupils and irises, with a black sclera surrounding them. They wore clothing that was brown in color, and both seemed to have tattoos on the palms of their hands. Frida had detailed the tattoos in separate sketches, one of each set of hands, though they were both very similar. On one hand, each bore a stylized-looking raven, and on the other a group of archaic symbols. They wore rich, dark brown clothing that was odd in style, like nothing he'd ever seen but that appeared to be made out of a high-quality material.

There were several drawings of Amazonian-like women, fairly normal looking but dressed in furs and tribal clothes, and surrounded by forests draped in winter. There was another woman with them, dressed almost identically to the twins from the last drawings, though she didn't seem to be the same woman.

The final images were what almost appeared to be the same woman in various stages of her life - older, as if in her mid-twenties at the most. Then two more of the same woman as teenagers, one around eleven or so and another about fourteen or fifteen. There was a sketch after that of a boy their own age, who appeared to be related. He was identical in almost all aspects to the woman in her different pictures - but infinitely more masculine and well-muscled.

Frida had been watching him flip through the sketchbook, gauging his reactions to the drawings. At the slight frown of concentration, she glanced down at the sketches, trying to determine what was dissatisfactory about them. But as he turned the pages, the slight concern on her expression deepened into something almost resembling a scowl - another extreme reaction for anyone observing, considering the source. Ravi himself was caught up in the drawings, looking up only when he heard Frida's hushed whisper. Her voice was odd, almost upset, which was the first true inflection he'd heard in her cadence.

"I.. I don't remember drawing those."

[Ravi FitzCoventry]

Ravi looked down at the sketches again, then up at Frida once more. "You don't? They are undeniably your work." She seemed scared under the confusion. He remembered that she said she had a good memory. It made sense then: perhaps she was unused to forgetting things. He reached over and placed a warm hand on top of hers.

"Frida, maybe you drew them while you were sick? These look like bookcover art from fantasy novels or some such. Maybe your illness gave you strange dreams and, like an artist would, you drew what you saw." He suggested reassuringly, his deep young voice soothing. "I'm certain there's a good explanation."

[Frida Ricci]

"Perhaps you're correct. I just.. it's so odd, not remembering.. and yet knowing I did them. You are right, they are unmistakably my work."

She tugged the sketchbook so that it was more between them than than directly in front of him, and turned it slightly, thumbing between the last few pages, pausing for a moment at each one. She reached the drawings she had done in class that morning, then, abruptly, she flipped the cover closed and looked back up at him. She forced a small smile and tucked a strand of hair back from her eyes, a habit that revealed the source of the black streak across her forehead as she pulled her fingertips away, revealing a slightly darker mark than before.

"Yes, that must be it. Quite troubling, I confess. But enough of that. What type of portrait would you like? Casual, or formal? A public location, or a more intimate setting? We could go wherever you please - the setting is a reflection of your personality, and therefore vital to an interesting image. Or we juxtaposition it if you'd like, placing you in something completely outside your comfort zone, in order to create a sense of.. contrast. What would you prefer?"

[Ravi FitzCoventry]

Ravi considered that, taking a couple of mouthfuls of casserole as he chewed the matter over. He was strongly tempted to check all the seduction setting boxes: casual, intimate, in a variable state of undress... But he reflected that this strange yet quirkily-attractive girl would probably be impervious to seduction whilst working. To tell the truth, Ravi wasn't even sure he wanted to seduce her, which was another rare experience for him.

This day, he mused, seemed full of those.

No, he decided. There was something somehow pure about Frida, under the odd intensity. And seduction was a game to the young aristocrat, a game of stalk, catch and pounce that was as much play as it was pleasure for him. If he did succeed in seducing her, he might hurt her more than other girls would be hurt when he eventually moved on to the next game, as he knew he invariably would. He might even damage her. To those who had experienced Ravi FitzCoventry's seeming callousness in the lists of love, these musings might well have confused and baffled them. But there was an admittedly arbitrary distinction in his conscience between playing the game with those that should know the rules and playing the game with those who had no idea that there even was a game. He didn't intend malice or heartbreak to his partners: he enjoyed their company in and out of bed, and when he did no longer he moved on. That was simple, to him, and he took no responsibility for their differing understanding of the situation.

What was that? Explain at the outset? And spoil the mood? Really, some people have no clue.

"I think casual, and private." He began, turning his thoughts to the portrait. "I want you to capture me, really capture me the way you did in that sketch. I will leave suggestions for setting, clothing and pose to yourself. After all," he smiled and took a drink of milk "you are the artist. And I think you have real talent for insight."

[Frida Ricci]

They ate in silence for a few moments, Frida looking thoughtfully distracted in that way only artists and philosophers seemed to be able to manage. Then she took another small sip of water and looked up at him.

"You should wear green - it brings out the color in your eyes quite strikingly. Whatever else matches the green you choose to wear is fine, I leave that to your discretion."

She propped her chin in her hand, continuing to gaze at him in that focused manner. In her mind she was transposing him into different places she knew of on campus, trying to imagine him in that scenery, to decide what would appropriately capture his essence. She pictured him in all the traditional places - by a piano, in a bedroom, lounging in a chair. But, as Adonis-like as he could be in mannerism, it just didn't seem.. correct. Ideal. It wasn't the deepest part of him that he wished her to capture, and so she dismissed those possibilities.

"Outside. Yes, most definitely outside, I think. I know a place that might be okay. What day would you like to begin?"

[Ravi FitzCoventry]

"Outside..." Ravi said slowly, rolling the word over in his exotic accent: English, upper-class, but with a hint of something Eastern as well. He flashed a smile at Frida. "Excellent notion. I like it! And as for green... Well, that is a colour I have an abundance of in my wardrobe."

"As to when..." He pondered for a few moments as he scraped the last of his meal up, obviously possessed of a healthy appetite. "Hrrmm. Shall we say this Saturday, at... Ten a.m.? That should give us plenty of daylight to use, yes?" Frida nodded, her faint smile once more crossing her face like a ripple on a pool as she continued to study him. Ravi picked up his glass and downed the last of his milk, the muscles of his throat moving smoothly under the dark-toned skin. Setting the glass down, he smiled at Frida once more.

"I don't suppose you have Literature next, do you?" he asked with a half-smile. We could have fun together if you do, you and I. that smile said with a wicked lilt to it's 'voice'. The flirt was more habit than anything else: an innate reaction to an attractive face. Though it was true that Ravi wanted to spend more time with Frida. The girl was so odd she quite tickled his curiousity.

"Advanced Algebra." Frida replied with a small shake of her head, her eyes not leaving his face. Once again she smiled in that enigmatic way, but didn't seem to show any sign of flirtation in return. Ravi sighed and shrugged, then smiled once more.

"Ahh, well. Until later it is, then. I need to go and gather some books from the library." he smiled and took her hand in both of his, the ring on his left pinky finger glinting in the light. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Frida." With a nod of his sleekly handsome head, the young nobleman stood and moved away, his stride graceful and straight-shouldered.

At the entrance to the cafeteria he paused and looked back as he opened the door, to see Frida's dark eyes still inscrutably watching him. Giving the strange girl a small wave, Ravi went forth.