[attr="class","luci2"]

there are things that call him to hoenn, things unexplained. however, if there is one thing that can always be relied on, it is the man's penchant for his craft. his art.

[break][break] he remembers the first time that noemi laid a brush in his hand; how natural it felt. how at ease.

[break][break] the brush sweeps across the eggshell canvas as he makes note of his piece — blues and yellows blur together as they sweep across it. painting has always been a passion of his, perhaps not as much as it leant to michaelis or not as much as his heart belonged to his sculptures, but it was an ease nonetheless. it eased his anxiety that he had not yet found his muse, and was enough of a distraction that he didn't have to think twice about it.

[break][break] however, as every artist knows, there is a point in the process where you may stall. just for a minute. perhaps you do not know where to make the next stroke, or perhaps you are re-thinking the colors you blended together.

[break][break] such was the truth for luciano, and his gaze lingered — upon someone else's.

[break][break] a pause.

[break][break] "an ocean is quite an ambitious task," he notes to the other, inclining towards the young man as if to appraise his work. "some might think it easy, but easy it is not."

[attr="class","ooc"] mint frost

☉

[attr="class","luci2"]

ah.

[break][break] "my apologies. have i overstepped?"

[break][break] or perhaps there was something on his face? the surprise of the young boy as he turns to him doesn't necessarily alarm luciano, but it is something that he thinks about as he finds a seat next to the boy.

[break][break] "i just like to observe talent when i see it."

[break][break] he flashes an easy smile.

[break][break] "luciano. pleasure to meet your acquaintance..?"

[attr="class","ooc"] mint frost

☉

[attr="class","luci2"]

mint frost 's discomfort does not escape his keen eye, but then again, many people often expressed discomfort when meeting him. whether it was because of their own lofty, inflated ideals of what a celebrity ought to be or otherwise, there were very few who found themselves at ease.

[break][break] there was a high likelihood that this young boy knew who he was.

[break][break] but for the moment, luciano decided he would play dumb.

[break][break] "mint. mint from lilycove," he repeats, with just a little bit of humor in his tone, before moving on. "well mint from lilycove, have you considered being a painter? you have a knack for it."

[break][break] and luciano fisk was not a man who gave compliments easily.

[attr="class","ooc"] mint frost

☉

[attr="class","luci2"]

the improper pronunciation does make him wince, somewhat, but years of being in the public sphere has made him used to it. after all, not everyone was a fisk. it could not be expected to hold them to the same standards.

[break][break] that didn't keep him from trying, however.

[break][break] he smiles.

[break][break] "you should consider it. you have a talent."

[break][break] blue eyes flicker quickly down to gelatto as the other makes another gesture of discomfort, one that luciano notices. instead of responding, however, he steadies his own paintbrush against his own egg and resumes his work.

[break][break] "it is coming along," he says, albeit a sigh. "i feel a bit disappointed, however."

[break][break] anyone who looked at his own egg would find a beautiful masterpiece — blues and whites painted in the beginning of what is a beautiful summer sky, the beginnings of a lapras curved on the edge of it.

[break][break] "anyone", however, did not have luciano fisk's critical eye.

[attr="class","ooc"] mint frost

☉

[attr="class","luci2"]

i like it.

[break][break] luci isn't sure why it is, but the words set something off in him. like a trigger.

[break][break] his heart sinks like it's being plunged into ice-cold water, thrown back into years of memories. sitting in the easel room, standing behind his baby brother. luciano had trained many an artist; they always had thoughtful opinions about their art, what colors to use, what strokes to make. he had trained both esteemed artists, and rookies who never were to be seen again.

[break][break] but it was only michaelis that had ever put his heart into his work. only michaelis who had always said, without avail, 'i like it' just like that. in that way. the candor strikes a chord into his heart, a cacophony of symphony.

[break][break] he stares.

[break][break] "michaelis?"

[break]

[attr="class","ooc"] mint frost

☉