oumaheroes:

The Artist

Word Count:800

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There was a man, the studio assistants tell him, who came by earlier to buy pencils. He offered to be painted after they had mentioned that their master was looking for a new subject, bored with the usual fare around.

He is young, apparently. New from the capital, blown in like summer. Soft blond hair and expressive, dark blue eyes above a strong jaw and elegant shoulders. A face that can capture attention but not dominate a work, draw in the eye like an arrow and not let go.

This is high praise indeed from the artist’s assistants, who see all across town in their many shapes and sizes with critical, well-trained eyes, and so this man needs to be assessed soon, lest he is taken and marked as muse by someone else hungry for their shot at greatness.

Where he is staying or how long for is unknown, but the assistants tell him that the man wanted to draw by the river and so there the artist goes, considering on the way whether or not the description will match the man himself. It is hard to stand out in a small town like this, and the booming art scene flooding the upper classes all over France to dilute the recognition that emerging talent deserves. A new muse, a fresh face, might provide the fire of imagination that he needs.

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