Looking for inspiration

[Darien Kachine]

I was out walking the District, hoping for inspiration for my fete costume. My mind had been full of wonderful ideas for others, especially Merav, but I was blank for myself.

With a sigh, I took a seat on the edge of an empty flowerbed and took my small sketchpad out of my pocket and a pencil out of another. Glancing around, I looked for something to capture and let my mind go for awhile.

[Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad]

I exited the Generous Patron to the trill of birdsong. I smiled up into the sky and for a while I watched the little swallows swooping back and forth from eave to eave across the cobbled street, having nothing else pressing to do. It was just comforting to feel that I was becoming a little more familiar with this corner of the City of Elua, and able to notice its small blessings, instead of worrying myself ragged about customs of behaviour. It was yet another lovely day in amongst a string of lovely days. I had yet to see anything ugly about the place.

I had tied my curls up a little today, and half their heavy weight was in a cascading knot at the back of my skull, while tendrils fell down about my face and back. It had seemed a day for lighter garb, so I had donned over my black shalwar a crimson pirahan tunic, edged with black and silver embroidery and closed with elaborate silver frogs, belted over with a long grey sash. The tunic had very brief sleeves, so I clustered my delicate forearms with silver and enamel bangles that rang like bells as I moved. I felt cheerful and light under the D'Angeline sun.

Navid was trotting at my side as per usual as I strolled unhurriedly up the road, arms folded behind me. I looked down at my young hound with an adoring smile and he returned my gaze with a little playful rumble in his throat. I would take this day as it came, savouring the freedom afforded a stranger in a new land.

[Darien Kachine]

I had already captured a young girl selling apples, her cheeks mimicking the fruit, and turned to a fresh page.

Casting my gaze about again, I was struck by the sight of a stranger. His look was capturing and even as I realized I was likely staring, I couldn't stop mysel. I felt my hand moving on its own, lines filling the page as I recreated his face.

[Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad]

I couldn’t help but feel I was being watched from somewhere, a sensation like scratching upon my neck. I glanced over my shoulder to try to pinpoint the source, but Navid was first to find the culprit, and was already bounding in a black gangling mass down and across the road toward him. I called out after my dog lest he perform another overwhealming act of enthusiasm, but he slowed and wagged his whip-thin tail as he approached a strong-jawed man, seated on a planter. This man had a folio in his lap. I moved toward him, placing my hands together in an apologetic gesture.

"I'm very sorry, my lord," I began, my accent musical as I knelt to place a gentle hand over my dog's slim chest. "Navid is still a puppy and is not yet acquainted with good manners. I do hope he has not interrupted you."

[Darien Kachine]

I'd not even noticed the puppy until he was upon me.

"Not interrupting me so much as reminding me I should find my own good manners," I said with a chuckle. I shaded in one last line and then set my pencil down. I held out my hand for the pup to sniff as I looked up at the owner. "Forgive me for staring. I was seeking something worth capturing on paper and you appeared as if sent."

[Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad]

Navid smelled the man's hand desultorily for his tail already wagged, and his little pink tongue darted slightly out to give a delicate lick. I stroked his chest, happy that my dog was so social.

I flushed at the man's comment and laughed a little, suddenly self-concious. "Worth capturing, Aghaye? You were drawing me?" I wound a curl around my spidery finger. "Ah, I forget myself… My name is Asfandiyar; I am honoured to meet you, sir." I lifted my long, slender hand from Navid's fur and put it to my chest respectfully.

"But what would an artist find interesting about an aimless vagrant foreigner such as myself?"

[Darien Kachine]

"Who is to say an aimless vagrant foreigner isn't interesting in and themself?" I asked, smiling.

"I am darien kachine, marquist and artist, it is my pleasure to meet you," I said, bowing my head. I gave the pup a scratch behind the ears then turned my pad around to show the picture to the subject. For all that it was done quickly, the likness was perfect, even the delighted wonder in his eyes as he'd looked around. "You are quite interesting, see?"

[Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad]

My hand hovered near the page as if to touch, but I daren't smudge the lines. I still could not quite fathom his interest in me, but the drawing was magnificent. The quality of line was confident and elegant, the mark of a sure hand connected with a penetrating gaze. I could not deny the similitude, either - like looking into a polished mirror at a self I was not accustomed to seeing.

"Oh… You have an exceptional talent, Aghaye Darien. Noone has ever captured my appearance on paper before. And I find myself quite flattered." I looked up at him over the sketchpad, indigo eyes grateful. "But, what is it that a 'marquist' does? I fear I'm unfamiliar with this term."

[Darien Kachine]

“A marque is what adepts of the Night Court get as they progress towards their freedom. It is a tattoo, ink in the skin, specialized for each House. I am one of the people who does the inking,” I explained with a smile, hoping I had made sense.

[Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad]

"Ah, yes, tattoos. My people often wear them as well, though it is more common among the mountain-dwellers and nomads. I have often admired this work." 'And wondered how needles feel inside skin,' I thought, giving a slight shiver. My deviant mind was squirming from its shackles after so long outside the fire-temple, and I would have to school it soon.

"This explains your confident hand," I smiled, indicating Darien's drawing. "It must be very fulfilling work to see so many people's ambitions coming to fruition through your skill. But wait…" I stopped, pensively, pressing a fingertip to my slightly parted beestung lips. "You mean to say that adepts are not free men and women? To whom are they enslaved? And why? I was under the impression that they were given their calling from a divine source."

This troubled me slightly, and I thought of Aghaye Landis. His elegant swagger had seemed so secure and untroubled. And yet, he was beholden to others. It intrigued me even more to visit Mont Nuit, to see just how this hierarchy could function without revolt.

"And does it mean that you, too, are enslaved by the Night Court Aghaye Darien? Or do you rather act as its support?"

[Darien Kachine]

"Adepts are not enslaved in the way that word sounds. They have a contract with their Houses the fees from their assignations go to the Houses. When a patron leaves the adept money or gifts beyond the fee for the assignation, then the adept can put that towards their marque. Once the marque is complete, then the assignation fees no longer go to the House, but are the adepts and the adept may leave the House," I explained. "And I am just a businessman and artist. I benefit from the Night court but owe them nothing. I endeavor to do my best work though, the adepts deserve nothing less."

[Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad]

"Ah, I see," I breathed, examining the pieces of this D'Angline puzzle as they settled together snugly in my mind. "It sounds more like an apprenticeship arrangement than a relationship of servitude." My comprehension of the adepts felt firmer now, though I had yet to experience their arts.

"I do hope someday I might see this work of yours, Aghaye Darien," I mentioned, with a soft smile. "If your skill on paper is any indication, the adepts must feel magnificent having visited your salon. But tell me, if you are chiefly a marquist, what brings you out into the square to sketch portraits of strangers?"

[Darien Kachine]

“I am chiefly a marquist, but I am also an artist – a painter most times,” I answered, putting my pencils and pad away as I spoke. “What brought me out here has nothing to do with any of it though. I am struggling for inspiration for a costume for the Midwinter Masque.”

[Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad]

"A man of many talents, then," I commented with a grin, understanding his interest in unconventional faces such as my own. "I wonder if you have ever seen the miniature paintings on paper of my people. They are painted to depict epic tales, romantic poetry, as well as daily life and the adventures of the aristocracy. The method of making them has not changed for many hundreds of years… they are much like jewels, with verdant pigments and leaf of gold." I waved my spidery fingers about as I described them, as though grasping in empty air for the right description.

"But, if I may ask… what is this Masque? I have heard nothing of it since my arrival." I struggled to imitate the word, but fared well enough. I hoped I was not being too nosy, if this was some exclusive engagement. But I was far too curious, piqued even, to hold in my questions. "And why does one need to disguise oneself to attend it?"

[Darien Kachine]

“It is a gala to celebrate Longest Night,” I explained. “There is a large event at the Palace that is open to all. It is customary to go in costume. The announced theme for this year is gods and goddesses and I am struggling to find one I will be comfortable with. It is not required to go in the theme, but unless one wants to stand out it is best. And yes, I have heard of and seen reproductions of the paintings you spoke of, though I have never seen an actual one.”

[Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad]

I smiled silently at Darien, slyly, knowing a rapid trip back to the marketplace and to my Umaiyyati friend's caravan would yield an illuminated book of Drujani paintings which I could procure for him. A fitting gift for one who had captured my likeness so sensitively.

I also organized the Longest Night away into my growing vision of Terre D'Ange. 'Longest Night'… that must, naturally, be the Solstice. Few cultures in this world overlooked that auspicious day, and mine was no exception. The Festival of Cheleh was a great time of merriment in my homeland, celebrating the dominance of Ahura Mazda over Angra Mainyu.

"To hail the return of the sun, yes?" I asked, feeling a warm affinity between our cultures. "My people have this event as well. You say all are welcome to go to the Masque? I would very much like to go, so I might have an opportunity to feel as though I am celebrating alongside my people. And I can imagine it must be the crown of festivals for Terre D'Ange as well… something I should not miss!" I gave a little grin and rubbed my long hands together daintily. Navid wagged his tail and whined as though reminding me that he would like to escort.

"I am as bereft of appropriate attire as you, Aghaye Darien. Have you narrowed down your selections?" I could imagine him, with such a strong jaw and striking eyes, as some fabled hero, clad in leopard skin and cloth of gold. The thought made my cheek colour, so I ploughed on nervously with questions. "How does one go about commissioning a costume for the celebration? If a great artist cannot decide upon his own garb, how am I to choose?" I laughed softly again, the corners of my indigo eyes crinkling with excited merriment.

[Darien Kachine]

“It all seems a bit like bragging to me,” I said with a shrug and a little laugh. “I can’t picture myself as a god so I am having trouble coming up with anything.” I glanced around and then back at him. “There is a shop that specializes in costumes; I guess we could start there.”

[Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad]

"It might be helpful for both of us to have each other's eye while looking," I nodded, trying to fathom exactly how I would manage to dress. "Lucky for you, your people have many gods to choose from, to suit your style and colouring… though yes, it may be just a little hubristic." I gave a small laugh. "My people no longer follow a pantheon of gods, only a faceless, formless energy... And I don't think that would make for much of a costume." I smirked, folding my hands in front of me. I turned myself to depart for the direction Darien had indicated.

"If I may be honest, I believe D'Angeline pride, even if excessive, is largely warrented. I've yet to see an unattractive body amongst you. So I see no harm in displaying your natural gifts." I glanced at Darien over my slim shoulder, curls tumbling about. "Perhaps it only requires a new perspective. If Aghaye Darien would be so kind as to lend his skill to my deportment, I will do all I can to think up suitable deities for his use." I smiled warmly at him and patted my thigh for Navid to follow.

[Darien Kachine]

Rising, I fell into step beside him.

"I would be more than happy to seek out costumes with you," I said, smiling. "As a note, you don't have to come as a god of your own nation. I believe some of the fun is to be had in representing other lands as well."

[Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad]

"Ah, I see," I mumbled, touching a spindly finger to my full bottom lip. "That makes things considerably easier. The Hellenes and Menekhetans have so many… and perhaps the old gods of my people might stand in the stead of Ahura Mazda. My people also have many Amesha Spentas and Yazatas… I believe the words 'angels' and 'powerful spirits' in your language might suffice."

I turned my face to look at Darien as we moved across the sunlit street. "What culture's gods are you most inclined toward, Aghaye Darien?"

[Darien Kachine]

"d'Angeline would be most logical, but I just don't think I can. Hellene perhaps, they do have so very many," I answered with a chuckle.

[Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad]

"Taking into account your talents, one might suggest Athena or the Muses, but for that small issue of Aghaye Darien being decidedly male…" I grinned devilishly as we reached the costumer's door. "Better it be a god with similar powers and less feminine appeal. What does art do?" I wondered, touching my lip. "It both mimics and creates worlds. Ouranos, the Father of Earth?" I studied Darien's stolid, chiseled features then shook my head briefly, a tumble of curls falling over my shoulder. "No. Ouranos is forever aged and past his prime; and that is certainly completely inappropriate." I let loose a little laugh.

"So, then… what does Aghaye Darien's art in particular do for the City of Elua?" I opened the costumer's door to a tinkle of welcoming bells. Inside was a veritable hallucination of colours - the finest fabrics of the realm and beyond arrayed amongst examples of the clothier's art. "I would hazard a guess that your work is considered an essential element and great support to the Night Court, and by extension, the whole of D'Angeline spirituality." I smiled as I fingered a fine silken weave of electrifying blue.

"So what god holds up the world?" I asked quietly, hoping Darien would see both the image I was conjuring, as well as my admiration of his place in this city.