The Sun and The Sky

Writers: Iluva
Date Posted: 1st June 2025

Characters: Shassene, Etyrion
Description: Shassene consults a colleague on some professional matters
Location: Printer Hall
Date: month 2, day 2 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: N’kevyn, Aydhan, Corofel, Arippa, Faldrimme (not by name)

Shassene

“What is _this_?”

Glancing up, Shassene's face immediately lit with a warm smile. “A commission,” she said, mid-pouring the decanted wine into two fluted glasses.

“Yeah, but…_who_ is this?”

“A client.” Her smile widened, more to herself because he was back on and busy staring at the portrait.

Etyrion mustered a grumbling sound, which Shassene let flow over her as the tides did the sand. Delicately slipping the stopper back in without the help of her eyes, and knowing he was off on yet another tangent again, she hoped to lure his attention back.

Another grunt, but she pressed the glass into his hands, anyway.

At this later hour her quarters were dimly lit. Most of the Hall’s bedtime had come and gone. Even Rylus and Mirit had succumbed to doing the bulk of their sulking in their sleep - a rare thing indeed.

“Etyrion,” Shassene slid into her chaise on silent toes. Her foot kicked to the side to brush the lush carpet in full tactile delight, and from beneath the red glow of a hanging lamp, looking like a feline in her den, she purred, “Etyrion.”

But Etyrion was not mollified with her explanation. Not by a long shot.

He leaned in to examine the work in a tight squint, tanned face awash with incredulousness and admiration and whatever else was going on that close to drying paint. Only one or two new wrinkles had taken to his sun-leathered skin since their paths had last crossed. Shassene giggled at the near-perfect mirroring of her subject to her guest - both beautiful, both bare-skinned (though not quite enough, truthfully), both black-haired from heads to chests to toes. The canvas might as well have been a mirror from where she sat.

“This... can’t be right.” Etyrion concluded.

Except that N’kevyn’s face was painted with invitation and magnetism, rather than Etyrion’s disgruntlement and disbelief.

She considered the painting with a tilt of her head, not really needing an excuse to. Nothing out of place or scale as far as her trained eye could see, and she didn’t see anything but the exact placement of shadows and highlights still to be determined in N’kevyn’s next, and final, session.

Her smile lingered, remembering how the bronzerider took direction better than most of the models, and had a delightful sense of humor that kept their sessions lively, pleasurable. His ease with his body had the musculature tighten and release in all the ways they were designed to, and the sultry slant of his eyes, the curve of his mouth - all masculine, all marvelous, with just a breath of the light source peppered in before their last session ended. It was refreshing to have someone so comfortable in their skin for so long.

Truthfully, beyond her own skillset, even a scribble of that man would have been attractive. She was pleasantly delighted with the level of realism oozing from his portrait, but more eager still for when the bronzerider and his wife could finally enjoy it -- together.

Perhaps it was the disgust that finally tore Etyrion’s eyes away with a puzzled look in them. Without a shirt, he rounded on her. “Shass, he doesn’t _actually_ look like this.”

“Of course he does.” She said pleasantly, “He’s a client,” with a little twinkling note of ‘what’s wrong with you?’ in there, too. “Surely you've seen a client before, haven’t you?” she teased.

Etyrion wouldn’t have seen the portrait if she hadn't wanted him to. In fact, despite the intentional vagueness (as there were a multitude of reasons for her letter), she'd been eager for his professional opinion, his technical eye on what would work best for the background - but that apparently was happening after his personal thoughts were aired.

“He’s a _client_.” She reiterated, sipping her wine with a soft hum. “It does look better with some natural light, at least until we get the highlighting done. We're still working on that,” that same note of ‘of course’ back in her voice. The wine burst smooth and cool as she sipped, watching him like a firelizard discovering their own reflection, impassive, patient, curious. A little amused.

“Yes, I know, but- but your letter was… you didn't say he looked like…. Why is he in _here_?” Etyrion rounded on her, hands on his bare hips and his dark hair flopping around bringing more of the darkness down across his face.

Shassene's brow wrinkled a fraction. He only got flustered when he was jealous. **Of what?** she wondered. “Etyrion,” she cautioned affectionately, no real worry or weight to it. “You know I work wherever I am. Besides, darling, he's a client.” Shassene couldn't help but laugh. “A married client who wants to surprise his lovely wife with a keepsake of her… favorite things.” She raised a brow. “What, have all the brawny bronzeriders left Dolphin Cove now that we have?”

“Crackdust. _And_ he's a _bronzerider_?!” Etyrion growled. He hadn’t been quite this tightly wound when they’d been together at Dolphin Cove - she watched her own thoughts splay out like long, wispy tendrils about the reasons why - more trouble between the Weyr and their Holds? Something personal between the two of them? Or something with his brother again? Then she watched them fizzle away, a more sympathetic cast to her smile. She hadn’t any answers, only questions. “Etyrion, darling, are you all right? You really are not yourself.”

He sighed heavily. “It's been two Turns, Shass.”

“Mmm, since what?” she asked inelegantly as she sipped her wine, not thinking of the actual date.

“Since our baby…” Etyrion stared at her, suddenly angry, but then it all just seemed to drain out, away. “Oh good. Oh Faranth, I thought that might have been what your letter was really about.” He sounded palpably relieved now. “I thought you might have just wanted to see me to… Now I think I might just be wrong about everything. All of it. ”

“Sweetheart,” she whispered, “that was a _chance_ to have a baby. Not a baby. We've got such different lives. We agreed it wasn’t the right time.” Her hand squeezed his big hand in hers like they didn't fit so perfectly together, two pieces interlocking like the sun and the sky. “I _am_ happy to see you. And I see you, right now.” Shassene said with soft seriousness, for his was a face she never got tired of seeing. He looked so dreadful all of a sudden, despite his earlier and rather ardent enthusiasm when he first arrived.

Just wanting to comfort him, she felt something uncoil, awake, inside her. “What’s going on, Tyri? More of that Shadow nonsense?”

“No.” he said with a grunt. His hand let go of hers a little, trying not to crush it. "No, it's not that."

“Mm.” Shassene couldn't begrudge him his feelings any more than he could hers. Her work, her life and passions were interwoven with so many lives here at the Printer Hall - precious possessions that she wasn’t sure she could ever bear to part with. She'd never seen her choice as a loss. She had the life she'd always wanted and was supposed to have -- and so much more. She had no space for regret.

But she could see that, occasionally, he still did.

“There is no competition here - or here.” Shassene touched the area over her heart. “Tyri-”

“I know.”

Silence stretched between them, out into the soft darkness, a low pulse of emotion that filled the room.

“You’re happy here?” He asked finally. His head raised up and Shassene took the opportunity to tuck tangled dark locks away from his face.

“I am.” She answered serenely, sweetly, sillily. “You put wind in a jar and it's just air, Tyri. It needs room to move. And, here, I can go in any direction and find something I _love_.”

“Shass, there are pamphlets about Lord Corofel and Lady Arippa on the doorstep.”

“Yes, but that was her sister.” She reminded him with a wave of her hand. “Etyrion, there’s no other place like this. Not here in the South. Not doing what we’re doing. I love the things I had to give up as much as the things I didn’t.” Her hand moved to his heart now. “You understand me, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, squeezing her hand. “I do."

“And I do, too." She planted a kiss to his cheek. "That letter said I had something special I wanted you to see.” Shassene reminded him with a secretive smile. "Didn't it?"

“_Again_? Faranth, I need a few minutes, Shass.”

“Not that,” She slapped his cheek gently. Shassene rose from his lap with the long black train of her robe following to the armoire, fringe fluttering around her bare legs like a tropical avian’s feathers. “Come over here,” she called, where out came a large wooden placard, carved in swirling, intricate detail in the shape of a dragon mid-flight. The fresh varnish had dried, shining even in the low light, and it was finally sealed, finally ready for use. Etyrion didn’t look any less confused when she handed it to him.

“Over there. Away from the rug.” Her smile turned supremely coy.

His look of dejection and annoyance and amazement shifted dramatically toward the latter as she approached, planting her foot atop his knee and exposing the long length of her thigh to him. Ignoring his searching eyes, Shassene grabbed newly mixed ink from the desk and brushed it across the wood with a small applicator. “Now,” she arched a red eyebrow, gesturing to her bare leg, “Go ahead. Press, darling.”

Etyrion had questions, but his harper trained hands did as they were bid, as they always did, taking care to roll the image up her flesh without smudging, without error. "Oh." He exclaimed softly when he lifted it away, the dragon's fierce mirror image bold and bagainst her skin, spanning along the curve of her hip like a firelizard, long tail curling up under the edge of her robe. "It's beautiful. But... Have they made cuts to your canvas allowance, Shass?"

"No." She laughed happily. "It's an experiment. And an artist makes use of every canvas at her disposal, darling. Now then, shall we do the other side?"

Etyrion flashed the smile she knew so well. "Alright, but then it's my turn."

Last updated on the June 10th 2025

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

The Sun and The Sky