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Post by Miss Mercy Ansley on Apr 24, 2021 3:03:49 GMT
Since the night they met, Mercy hadn't been able to stop thinking about her encounter with Raphael Fontaine. Even with several days to think it over, she didn't understand what he'd seen that made him think she would be worth painting. She'd tucked the sketch he'd done of her into her diary, looking at it as she wrote her entries. The woman in the picture seemed so distant to her--like some side of herself even she didn't know. Maybe that was why she was so determined to really go, to really be a model for a painting. After finishing a new batch of tiaras and earrings for the modiste, Mercy had made excuses and taken off early. Her sister, of course, knew where she was going--she knew better than to run off alone without someone knowing where she would be. Really, she shouldn't be going off to see a man, alone, for any reason at all, but it wasn't as if she could bring one of her parents to meet with an artist she'd met while working her secret job as a scantily clad singer in a men's club. Just thinking about that made her feel sick. So here she was, hurrying down the street alone in her plainest dress, with her bonnet tugged low over her face to avoid eye contact with any strangers. Thankfully the street wasn't too crowded, and the people who were there seemed normal enough, not anyone threatening. She found the florist easily, which meant the building next to it must be the art studio. But even once she was sure, she hesitated with her hand on the door handle for longer than she ought to, debating once more whether this was a good idea. She had a good feeling about Raphael, but there was always that chance that she was wrong. That more people in the world were just as terrible as her father. She shook her head. No. She wouldn't let herself get caught in that trap. The world was brighter than that. It had to be. She opened the door. Inside the repurposed shop, she found herself in a bigger room than she'd imagined, whose hardwood floors creaked beneath her feet as she entered and closed the door behind her. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out a narrower space, separated from the rest by a makeshift wall of tapestries and patterned fabric, and what looked like an oriental rug. On the side she'd entered, a slew of marble sculptures filled the space, leaving only narrow walkways between, and any space that didn't have sculptures was filled with tables and shelves full of tools, wire models, and all manner of other supplies. The graceful figures of the sculptures reminded her of dancing ghosts. She could see that farther to her left, a doorway had been left between the fabric wall and the real one at the front of the shop. Was that side where the painting things were? She walked hesitantly that way, tugging off her bonnet as she went. "Bonjour? Raphael?" she called into the room as she neared the other side, though the clutter dampened her already soft voice somewhat. |
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Post by Raphael Fontaine on Apr 24, 2021 3:48:38 GMT
Since that night at the club, the painter did his best to keep busy, to take on even the small jobs he got bored with. Don't misunderstand, he did enjoy painting, no matter what it was, but when he didn't feel something for his work, Raphael believed it wasn't good enough. And yet, the people still paid, they still requested commissions, and thus far, nothing had nudged that muse like the masked Miss Silver had. He didn't entirely understand why fate had chosen her, but he wasn't questioning it. There was just something about her.
So when a couple of days passed, he had to come to the realization that she wouldn't be coming. Then a couple of days became a few, and Raphael was forced to understand the risk of his request. It was not proper, and yet, she was more than welcome to bring whomever she liked along with her. Perhaps he should have said that. He probably should have said a lot of things, and now it would be too late. To go back to the club and explain this would seem like desperation.
This day, he found himself to be in a bit of a mood as he wandered back and forth on his side of the studio, searching for a particular brush. He looked everywhere- in every jar, under every canvas, and every drawer just in case. "Pour l'amour de Dieu, Seamus...tu l'as repris, n'est-ce pas?" He was muttering to himself even if he addressed his fellow artist as though he were standing right there. Sometimes the sculptor used one of his larger brushes to dust off his workspace or whatever statue he was currently working on. "Ce n'est pas à quoi ça sert, mais au moins retournez la fichue chose!" He wasn't yelling, per say, but his voice was beginning to get louder as he sighed heavily and moved to step through that "doorway" between their individual spaces. Only, just as he was about to, he was forced to an abrupt stop.
Raphael hadn't heard her call out and was taken by surprise to find the woman there. He was ready to ask if she needed help or what she was in search for before he was suddenly recognizing those lovely brown eyes, and the moment of recognition softened his flustered features immediately.
"Miss Mercy...you are here." Well, that was stating the obvious.
*For the love of God, Seamus...you took it again, didn't you?
**That is not what it is used for, but at least return the damn thing! |
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Post by Miss Mercy Ansley on Apr 24, 2021 20:18:50 GMT
Mercy stepped back out of his personal space as the two of them nearly collided. She blushed and ducked her head, already apologizing before Raphael realized who she was.
"Um, yes. I am," she answered, stating the obvious just as much as he was. "I am sorry I wasn't able to come sooner; getting out to do something on my own turned out to be a touch more difficult than I anticipated. The rest of the family doesn't know we work at the club, you see, only my sister and I, so I couldn't exactly explain it in any kind of way that made sense and I'm an awful liar and--" she caught herself rambling and cut off, ducking her head again and wringing her poor bonnet in her hands.
"Desolee, I'm a bit nervous," she confessed quietly, all but melting into the floor in her embarrassment. Here she'd finally shown up like she was supposed to, and he was already in a bad mood, and she was surely making it worse with her stammering and rambling.
"If you're busy, I can come another day…"
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Post by Raphael Fontaine on Apr 25, 2021 2:24:20 GMT
He wasn't sure why he seemed so surprised to see her; perhaps he had given up and believed it was a ridiculous request to ask of a woman, whether she was noble or not. Raph could only assume she wasn't of nobility with the particular job she worked, but it wasn't something he was going to outright ask about either. Not yet, at least.
While Mercy stammered on in explanation, each second that ticked by made his features soften further as a smile spread clear across his face. And he watched her quietly, not bothering to interrupt even if she didn't have to explain. The fact that she had come despite everything made the mood he had just been in dissipate within moments. She was lovely. She was sweet and pure, and he nearly felt like he shouldn't be allowed in her presence. He stared as if she would completely disappear if he looked away for even a quick moment.
"There is nothing to be nervous about, chérie," he finally spoke before he was shaking his head. "And I am certainly not too busy for you." All of a sudden, he had forgotten what he had been so annoyed about and what he had even been searching for. None of it mattered now as Raphael finally blinked and broke his stare in order to step away, allowing her to enter his half of the studio.
"I do hope you will not get into, uh...any trouble for being here?" He sounded a little sheepish about it, but in reality, he didn't truly understand what the issue was. Things were slightly different here in England. Where he was from, everything was a bit more...loose, shall we say. At least among the commoners. And now that she was here, Raphael was trying to not make her any more nervous.
So, stopping his staring would be a good place to start.
Stepping back a little more, he turned around to gesture with one of his hands. "Perhaps it is not...grand, but, welcome. Et je m'excuse, for the mess you just walked through." Sometimes he wished Seamus' space wasn't the first one people saw when they entered, but Raphael liked the privacy more on this side. |
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Post by Miss Mercy Ansley on Apr 25, 2021 4:21:37 GMT
"There is nothing to be nervous about, chérie," he finally spoke before he was shaking his head. "And I am certainly not too busy for you."
Mercy smiled, and a strange flutter rolled through her chest at the implication that she was something special, that he wasn't too busy for her specifically. This was going to take some getting used to, being the focus of someone's attention besides her sister's. She was so used to trying to avoid notice, she wasn't sure how to handle it. It was a compliment, she knew that much, and she didn't feel uncomfortable because she felt unsafe--quite the contrary. She liked Raphael already, and his smile put her a bit more at ease. She just wasn't familiar with positive attention, so she was being forced to improvise.
"I do hope you will not get into, uh...any trouble for being here?"
"Only if I get caught," she answered without thinking, then laughed a bit anxiously and tugged at one of the curls that fell over her shoulder. "Not to worry. I may be a terrible liar, but I'm quite good at keeping secrets."
She followed him into his area of the studio, eyes wide with wonder as she looked around. This side wasn't nearly so chaotic, but it was still full of art and creativity, which made her smile. It had a good sort of energy, one that helped her posture relax even farther, and her hands loosen their death-grip on her crumpled bonnet.
"Non, c'est parfait," she protested, charmed by the whole place. "Even the mess is just right for this sort of place, I think. It's like something out of a book."
She hesitated, though, not far into the room. "Um...where do you want me? I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea of what a model is supposed to do. Do I just sit and chat with you? Should I have worn something different?"
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Post by Raphael Fontaine on Apr 25, 2021 23:27:03 GMT
Mercy was quite the opposite of the usual female models he'd had the pleasure of sketching or even painting before...and that was the whole point. He was tired of the same things over and over again- she was like a breath of fresh air, the very spark he felt like he had been missing for far too long, or maybe all along. She was lovely to look at, of course, but it was that bit of her soul he had seen that truly intrigued him. That was what he was trying so gently but desperately reaching out towards. Beauty meant little if there was nothing else behind it, and Miss Mercy just needed that nudge to let that caged bird free.
'Only if I get caught.'
The smile on his face faltered a little at that. Raphael didn't want her getting in trouble because of him, but he'd be a liar if this didn't just make her even more interesting.
While she looked around, he was watching her again; slowly drifting towards one of the tables to blindly search for one of his sketchbooks. The grin once again tugged at his lips when she called this simple, rundown place perfect. Well, it suited him just fine, and he was fortunate to have it. Raphael nearly missed what she said next- dark eyes blinking before he had to take a moment to think about it.
'Should I have worn something different?'
"Non, tu es parfait," he answered her gently, so matter of fact, too. Raph removed his gaze from her to notice how the sun was streaming in through one of the high windows. Dragging a high stool over beneath it, he gestured her towards it. "Just sit, relax, and talk, yes." That was all it had to be, because he had asked for her- not Silver, not a bored model, just her. "I thought I would just do some sketches right now...if that's alright?"
Should she take that seat, he would look at her for a long moment before he approached a little closer. Raphael hesitated, his hand hovering in the air between them, like he was contemplating on whether to move her or not, and also feeling as though he shouldn't touch. Like she was porcelain or he might ruin her lovely skin with paint covered fingers. "Would you, uh...turn your face to the sun, but then tilt it towards the ground." Right now, the rest of her posture didn't matter to him. It was her face he wanted to focus on; the angle of her jaw, the sharpness of her cheekbones, and fullness of her lips... |
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Post by Miss Mercy Ansley on Apr 28, 2021 4:14:20 GMT
Mercy flushed pink at his answer that she was 'parfait.' She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn't help it--he was too kind. It was like walking out of a dark room into the light; she had to squint against the brightness he was showering her with. She made herself breathe slowly and relax her shoulders, though, as she followed his guidance to sit on the tall stool. Immediately she straightened her spine and crossed her legs neatly at the ankles, the way she'd been taught to do (and hit with whatever was nearby if she failed to do).
ust sit, relax, and talk, yes." That was all it had to be, because he had asked for her- not Silver, not a bored model, just her. "I thought I would just do some sketches right now...if that's alright?"
"Of course. Whatever you like."
She watched Raphael with wide, curious eyes as he looked her over. After a moment, he reached toward her face as if he was going to guide her to turn, but he stopped before touching her. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed that he was reluctant to touch her. She pushed the thought from her mind and clenched a handful of her dress to keep herself from doing or saying anything stupid.
"Would you, uh...turn your face to the sun, but then tilt it towards the ground."
She turned her body more towards the shaft of sunlight falling through the window, so clearly outlined in the marble-dust-filled air. Her first instinct was to look up at the window, but she let her gaze and her chin fall slightly towards where her hands rested in her lap, holding her soon-to-be-mutilated bonnet. She could still feel the warmth of the sunlight falling across her cheekbones and warming the top of her hair.
"Like this…?"
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Post by Raphael Fontaine on May 15, 2021 5:35:07 GMT
Something told him he might not be able to keep her here for terribly long, so he would have to work quickly. He wanted to sketch her as much as he possibly could, but he had this feeling that the vision of her wouldn't be so easily pushed from his memory. He'd likely remember the shape of her eyes and the soft color of them, the way the lightened when the sun hit them just right. He would recall the curves of her profile and arch of her brows as if he'd known her all of his life. It was possible he could already sketch her face without looking, yet he wanted the reason to stare even for a little while.
'Like this...?'
He'd been watching too intently again that he almost missed her speak. Swiftly blinking and stepping back, he regarded her from that short distance away. "Perfect..." he gently said the word again as hands were quick to open that sketchbook as he sought for a piece of charcoal. Snatching one from the table, he leaned back against it as she would already hear the faint scratching of utensil against paper.
"If I may ask, Miss Mercy...how did you find yourself working at the club?" Apparently she worked three jobs, if he remembered correctly, and he was very curious about that as well. Why would a woman need to work so much? Had she no one to take care of her? |
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Post by Miss Mercy Ansley on May 16, 2021 18:32:54 GMT
Mercy resisted the urge to look over when he spoke, keeping her face tilted into the light.
His question didn't surprise her, not after the conversation they'd had about whether or not her talent was wasted there.
"Actually, it started with the modiste," she confessed, starting slowly, but growing more comfortable as she continued. "My sister and I started out working for Mrs. Hobbs. My sister is a fabric witch, you see, and I'm a metal witch. So Grace helps with the dresses and makes some of her own designs, and I make jewelry. I don't have the supplies for anything with fine jewels, of course, but I do a lot of plain metalwork and some with crystals."
"Anyway, doing that was all well and good, and Mrs. Hobbs is a lovely woman; I'm sure she pays us more than fairly. But with the ah...circumstances…at home, it wasn't enough to take care of necessities and also outfit us for the season, especially not with Father dipping into it whenever he feels like it. So Mrs. Hobbs suggested that Mr. Hobbs, the bartender at the club, make a recommendation for us to start as singers there. She'd heard us singing together while we worked, before that."
"Our audition went splendidly, and it was rather fun to sing some of the things we'd get in trouble for around the house. We couldn't very well be open about who we are, though, not with our father wandering into any establishment that will sell him gin, and both of us trying to marry out of the house… So Silver and Silk were born."
She was quiet for a moment, then added, "You know, you're the first person I've ever told any of this… It's just been between us and the Hobbses 'til now."
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Post by Raphael Fontaine on May 19, 2021 20:21:45 GMT
His brow rose a little at the mention of the modiste. Well, that seemed like a more...suitable job, no? He didn't outright say that, of course, simply leaning back against the table as his hand continued to drag the charcoal across the parchment in quick strokes. Every now and then, his eyes would lift back up to her face, his mind forcing himself to not let them linger for too long.
"Metalwork?" he repeated quietly in interest, but didn't say anymore because he wasn't looking to interrupt her at all. But working with metal, possessing a magic or not, was an art and something that would certainly pique his interest. Maybe she would share some of her own work with him at a later date.
His hand paused, and those brown eyes slowly lifted back to her at the mention of "circumstances". Raphael argued with himself about whether or not to ask about it. She had brought it up, mentioning a little more about her father, but he still wasn't sure if it was his business, nor if he had any right to know more than that. Still, what could have happened with her family that would force her and her sister to work more than one job? And at a place where men ogled them no less?
That was when his gaze dropped, and he attempted to blink his own shame away. Hadn't he found himself at that very same club? Wasn't he blatantly staring at this woman now, albeit for different reasons?
Raph was quiet when she was, unsure of what to say, of what to avoid because he normally just spoke his mind without a care. Today, however, he wanted to rein himself in for some reason.
'You know, you're the first person I've ever told any of this...'
Again, he paused; his head still tilted towards the paper but he slowly looked back up to her from across that short distance. He didn't know why that surprised him, but the expression didn't last long as his mouth curled in a small smile. "Why did you share this with me?" he dared to ask. |
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Post by Miss Mercy Ansley on May 22, 2021 3:44:53 GMT
What a very good question.
Mercy's head tipped slightly to the side in thought until she caught herself and hurriedly straightened back up for fear of ruining his sketch. She'd have to channel her nervous energy a different way.
"How do I explain this…" she hummed for a moment, absently pulling one of the hatpins out of her bonnet and twisting it in her fingers. She always thought better when her hands were busy. "I suppose it's as if...You saw me already. Not my body, that's not what I mean. You saw past that. My spirit, you might say. Even when I'm just Mercy, without the mask in the way, most people don't see me. They aren't really looking." She shrugged. "So explaining what you already saw...it doesn't bother me."
As she spoke, she continued to toy with the pin. It was about the length of her hand when she started, just plain silver with an orb the size of a pea at the end to keep the hat from sliding off. She stood it on end in her palm, just the tip of her opposite index finger resting on its top to hold it up. Then she pressed down. It almost looked as if the pin would be pushed through her hand, but instead, the metal squished into a little mound in her palm as if it were wet clay rather than solid silver. She rolled the silver between her palms, forming a ball.
"All this secrecy has been weighing on me for so long... It's a relief to set it aside, even for a little while. Perhaps that's selfish of me." She glanced at him with a rueful smile. "If you'd prefer not to know the sordid details, I can talk about something else."
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