semi-open post: portraiture

[peaklordshen]

After shifting his way through oil pastels, watercolors, house paint, colored pencils, and an endless variety of paint markers, Shen Yuan has finally managed to get the Mansion to produce a decent set of oil paints, and—wonder of wonders—an easel. He's set up in a spacious, well-lit hall, probably for dancing or salons or whatever, where he's arranged a bunch of furniture in various configurations—wooden screens that he's draped cloth¹ over for backdrops; armchairs stolen from the lounge, wooden stools and high-backed dining chairs from the kitchens; even a lovely chaise lounge in a deep purple that he wistfully thinks he won't actually use, because it would definitely be for Aleksander, and he doubts he'll be doing that entry in his protagonists of the Mansion series after all. He has one of the stools pulled up next to the easel to hold his paints, and is wearing a wide-necked sweater over a black turtleneck and some loose, worn jeans that already have a few flecks of paint on them from when he was doing his color tests.² He's pulled his hair back in a practical bun, and he's currently laying down a layer of gesso on his canvas.

¹ Look, he has to do something with all of those robes he accidentally conjured in his last post.
² After days of feeling very lost and confused about how he's not required to LARP anymore, he's pretty much decided that it actually means he can just change who he's LARPing as at will, and the main way to do this is through fashion. Today he is An Artist.

[Primarily for those Shen Yuan has offered to paint, but anyone else is also welcome to come bother him while he works.]

Comments

[timebethine]

Laertes has been looking for a room in which a dance might be held (his sole concession to guilt over making Claudius plan his entire wedding celebration). His first thought as he steps into the big room is how perfect it would be for the purpose--so big and bright, with high ceilings and chandeliers and a wall of windows to let the sunlight in. Only after a few moments of taking in that gorgeous light does he realize that the room is occupied. "Shen Qingqiu!" he says, looking him up and down. "Thou hast changed thy stripes. Thy habit looks well on thee."

[onthewillowsthere]

That morning, Claudius helped him bend and wire together a branch of myrtle into a crown, and now Galahad is here with it, and a few other things, bundled into his arms, keeping an appointment that's been long coming.

He does smile when he sees Shen Yuan, lifting a hand to sign hello.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan looks up, smiling at him. "Laertes," he says. "Thank you. I used to wear things more like this, in my first--in the first world I was in. I don't mind the robes, but I'd like to find a balance, and for things like this--" he gestures at the canvas, "--the sleeves really get in the way."

[timebethine]

"No doubt! I awakened here, arrayed as thou seest me now--" his gesture takes in jeans, t-shirt, well-worn combat boots "--and have greatly enjoyed the convenience. Although I do at times feel lewd and underdressed in such thin fabric," he admits. "What dost thou paint?"

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan stands up, setting his paintbrush back in the easel so he can sign hello, back with a smile, and then, slightly less smoothly, Galahad's name. "What have you brought?" he asks aloud, curiously, coming over to see what he has in his arms.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan grins at him. "You'd look right at home on the streets of any modern city," he tells him. "But yes--it can be a little vulnerable." He makes a face. "The outfit I wore when I first got here had seven layers of robes. It's no wonder I have so much more time to fill, here, than I did back on Qing Jing--I save hours every morning just getting out of bed."

He turns the easel so Laertes can see. "Speaking of filling the time--nothing, yet. Just preparing the canvas. But--do you happen to have some time, now, actually? Can I ask you a favor, or are you rushing off to perfect another recipe?"

[timebethine]

"Thou hast me at my leisure; ask any boon thou wishest."

[onthewillowsthere]

He puts everything down on one of the stolen chairs so he can show Shen Yuan: the myrtle crown, the jade green robe he took from Shen Yuan's clothing explosion, and a box with a pair of clip-on earrings, oval pearl drops that match the white blossoms of the myrtle.

[peaklordshen]

"Well, first I should say congratulations--I haven't seen you since Sagramore informed me of your happy union," he says, sincerely. "And--relatedly. I'd like to give him a wedding present? And I thought maybe," he takes a breath. Why is this harder than just asking someone for fun? "--you would sit for a portrait? It would be small, something he could wear in a locket or something, so, you know, you're always with him or whatever." This last part is self-deprecating; not dismissive of their love, but laughing at himself for presuming to comment on it.

[peaklordshen]

"Oh, beautiful," exclaims Shen Yuan. "This is perfect. Do you want help styling the robe? Do you know how it goes?"

[timebethine]

"If it would please him," says Laertes, a little stunned. He can easily imagine Sagramore wanting it; he's always so proud to be Laertes's, and so hungry to look upon him. But the idea that he would be worth painting--not to send a miniature to some foreign dignitary's daughter so that she can judge whether he's worthy to wed, not to pad out a hall of portraits of chamberlains, but to please his husband--"Yes. Yes, please. I think it would please him well."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Yes, please." He takes a quick breath and pulls off the soft sweater he's wearing, folds it neatly and puts it aside.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan breathes out, relieved. "I thought so, too," he says. "Alright, um--normally I would ask you to bring things, clothing you want to be seen in, or objects that are of importance to you, but I think given the size we should just do a bust, so unless you feel strongly about what kind of collar you wear--?" This is mostly a joke, though he does want to give Laertes the chance to change or redo his hair or whatever, since he'd had no lead time for this. Not that he needs to--he looks casually, off-handedly handsome the way he always does.

[timebethine]

Laertes flushes crimson so suddenly that he feels light-headed. They haven't discussed this at all--but he thinks on the poem inscribed on his ring, and he finds that he knows what would please Sagramore best. "One moment," he says, and hurries out of the room.

When he returns, he's carrying a length of worn brown leather, which he buckles on his neck as he approaches. "I think he would like to have me wear this," Laertes says as he sits in a nearby armchair.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan also flushes, though less intensely, as Laertes fastens the collar around his neck. "I—right," he says weakly. "Glad I asked." Is everyone around here secretly into kink?? Why are his initial mad assumptions about this place kind of proving themselves true??? Other than the ones about Janet orchestrating it all, though at this point if he found out she was arranging threesomes or whatever he would be the opposite of surprised.

He swaps his canvas for a smaller one, which he'd prepared earlier. It's still larger than a locket, of course, but he'll do a few studies around the right size and choose whichever one he likes best once he has a setting for it. He squints at Laertes, then comes around the easel. "Can I, like, arrange you?" he asks, not wanting to touch without permission. They'd touched a lot, when he was stoned, but he tries not to think about most of his behavior that night because otherwise he'll probably die of shame.

[timebethine]

Laertes lets himself go loose and easy, ready to respond to the slightest nudge of Shen Yuan's hands. "As thou wishest; I trust thine artist's eye."

[summerdude]

Magnus... hasn't forgotten about Shen Yuan's offer to paint him, or anything, but he's become a bit of a wild child over the past week: constantly barefoot; in beige summery clothes that are comfortable enough to double as pajamas. Talking about trees with Ragnelle reminded him of his childhood climbing trees until the point where the branches could barely hold his weight, and between the specter of his room and the overwhelming closeness of being inside, Magnus has really only been in the Mansion to grab a quick shower and to replenish his food supplies. Otherwise, the closest he's come is hanging out with Galahad near the more manicured of the gardens to practice sign. The rest of the time he's spent in the thick of the woods: in his favorite clearing, reading and thinking and processing; up the tallest trees he can find without infringing on the parts he pointed out to Ragnelle, breathing and swaying; and listening to the conversations of the birds as they chatter about food and nests and the approaching winter. The fresh air is good, cleansing; out here, he can actually fall asleep on his own accord.

He's sort of lost track of the days? But his hair is feeling a little gross -- he hasn't bothered with a brush; there's this whole bark/sap situation -- and while he still has enough food for another few days, he wants falafel. So he's girding his loins (read: gripping Lan Wangji's jade pendant) and slipping back into the Mansion for a resupply.

He gets his falafel sandwich but takes a wrong turn on the way to the unclaimed washroom he's been using -- it has a shower that, strangely, reminds him of the YWCA shelter's gymnasium, which he'd stayed at once in the first month after his mom died, and the Mansion has started to supply more t-shirts and pants in his size in the towel cabinet there -- and stumbles across Shen Yuan's painting setup, and thinks: oh. Right.

He waves, swallowing the bite of falafel he's working on, and concentrates on seeming normal. "Hey dude."

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan drapes the robe over his shoulders and starts to cross it normally, modestly at the throat; then stops, considering. He takes Galahad's hands and pulls him gently forward, into the light streaming through the windows. It plays so beautifully over the blue of his eyes, the stillness of his face; pools like water in the hollow of his collarbone. Shen Yuan tugs the robes closed again, but this time lower, leaving a pale slice of chest open to the light before he crosses it, left over right, and belts it.¹ "Is this alright?" he asks, meaning the flash of skin; this is a collaborative vision, after all.

¹ Not that either Galahad or Claudius will know this, but folding hanfu left over right is for living people, and right over left is for funeral rites. This is one of the reasons Shen Yuan offered to style it for him, so he could make sure that symbolism was there; he wants to paint Galahad as beautiful and alive.

[peaklordshen]

It sinks in, then, that Laertes has been 'thee' and 'thou'ing him for a while. Maybe he does like him on his own merits, and not just as Sagramore's friend? "Thanks, bro," he says, experimentally, and sets to work finding the right angle and lighting: first shifting the armchair itself, then turning Laertes' shoulders this way and that, tilting his head just a little with fingers at his jaw. He even cuffs his t-shirt sleeves, though he doesn't think they'll make the final cut; along with the collar and the combat boots it gives him a young, queer, slightly punk vibe that really works for him.

He doesn't dare touch the collar, though, even though with the angle of his head now he really wants the buckle in a different place—not out of prudishness or whatever, it would just feel disrespectful. "Can you just, um. Turn the—" he mimes at his own throat, fingers gripping and shifting left.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad nods, a small and fervent nod.

(He's been thinking, for a slow and steady while, about concupiscience, about the sin of sensuality -- thinking of what it means, to long to be beautiful, to wear beautiful things and eat things that are good, to desire and to want to be desired. The robe is silk and silk is cool and good to touch, pleasant to stroke against his skin. Saint Augustine has written that concupiscience could be present even in a world where Adam never fell: that desire is only a failing in the context of the worst desire, which led to all men being born in sin. If that's true, then perhaps it isn't wrong, in and of itself, to be sensual. All of that has led him here, in front of Shen Yuan, feeling the light touch his bare skin between the folds of the robe, carefully clipping the pearls into the lobes of his ears.)

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan nods back, and sets the crown of myrtle on Galahad's head, turning it to suit him best like he had the flowers in the greenhouse when they'd first figured out how to talk without words. He's glad they have a new way, now—he can sign beautiful, happy to Galahad without breaking his pleased and wondering silence—but he's glad they have that first language, too, glad to know, when he steps back to look at his friend, that he's seeing Galahad crowned in love.

Ah, he's becoming such a sap in his old age!! He has to turn away, back to his canvas, so Galahad won't see him tearing up. He busies himself with deciding how to stage him, then remembers: G-flower-choice. He turns back around to gesture at all the furniture and repeat that last sign—choice, as in, you choose.

[peaklordshen]

"Magnus," says Shen Yuan, and takes him in, mildly surprised. "Is this... an aesthetic choice you're making for the portrait? Or are you just, um," not bathing, "doing this, now?" He's keeping his voice non-judgmental; Magnus enjoys beige, he knows that. He's having a hard time not telling him to put on shoes, though. Major Sha Hualing vibes on that front!! Who cares if you have summer and/or desert powers and won't get cold, rocks are still sharp!!

[onthewillowsthere]

He smiles at Shen Yuan and picks a wooden stool. He sits in his usual straight-backed way, looking at Shen Yuan. "Like this?"

[summerdude]

Magnus takes in everything about Shen Yuan and the array of stuff here. "I was climbing a tree," he says, vaguely, gingerly touching where sap has stuck so much bark to his hair. What was it that they had talked about when they were helping Shen Yuan get ready for his date? It was just a week or so ago, but it feels like a lifetime. "I was... heading to go clean up and put on the dress?"

The dress, which is in the room he doesn't go to anymore. Whoops.

[timebethine]

"Ah." Laertes takes his meaning immediately and turns the collar. "My thanks for thy caution. I wouldn't have right it, but I think it would do me some offense to have it touched."