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Ren calmly holds Albina’s wiry hair. He snaps the hair-tie originally on his wrist to bind Albina's locks up into a ponytail, taking a deep breath out. He found that combing and tending to Albina’s long hair was therapeutic after training; the hot, beading pain of the stock of a sword ramming into his ribs is still imprinted into his body, it aches and burns with every action he does.
“Ren,” Albina says, turning her head to just barely read his face. His back straightens, pulling away from her now-done ponytail. “Yes?” He attempts to read her expression.
“Are you busy tomorrow?”
Seeing that the question wasn’t one of real interest, his eyes advert back down to her hair, sleek fingers running through the curls. “Mayhaps.”
“Ah…” Albina grimaces. Hearing her sad tone has him confused. “Why do you ask?”
She shifts, sitting face to face in front of Ren- before her hands come out, cold fingers tracing a bruise on his palm tenderly. His eyes finally drag up reluctantly to meet hers, feeling the weirdly intimate gesture.
“...Hm?” His head tilts, just slightly. She marvels at his eyelashes before refocusing on his eyes itself.“I want to paint you, Ren. Please, be my muse.” She says it with that casual tone she had just asked the other question with. Ren almost retracts his arms, but she still has them captive with gentle strokes.
“...Your reasoning for this is?"
“My Maestro wants an art project due soon. I cannot get any ideas- but you are the perfect reference.” Albina’s hand trails down just a little bit, and her finger snags on his cloth of the fingerless gloves he wears— beautifully patterned into a faded, silvery blue with a silky texture. “If not my posing muse, just your garments.” She bargains. “For maybe a few hours- I will return them in due time.”
“I cannot do that. I have drills later, and it would be a hassle.” He retracts his body away by instinct.
Albina’s eyebrows arch down, a pitiful expression overcoming her face. Ren is the perfect candidate for this. Photos aren’t enough- the colors would desaturate. Yes, just him in a good pose- and her behind a canvas, painting, that would be perfect. Just the two of them- together.
Ren squints, before going mock-limp, shoulders sagging and head falling. A sigh is pulled from his core like this was tortuous before finally pulling up. “How much time do you have to complete this?”
She looks up as Ren stands and smoothens out his robes. His eyes are now averted to the door.
“About two days. We would do the session Alla Prima- I will recreate it later if it does not satisfy me.”
“Well, I will compromise— If I am in a good mood after my drills. You need a ‘model’, correct?”
“...Yes, just do a pose. Maybe that could enhance your core strength, too.”
Satisfied with Albina’s answers, he walks (skitters) out of the room after balancing. He never gave her a time tomorrow. He knows she’s always free.
Albina still attempts to warm up and concentrate. Paint streaks stain her fresh canvas, but none seem to spark any ideas yet. Her mind is set on Ren.
She blanks- pondering. Ren truly was a marvel to behold. His face was symmetrical, hair evenly parted, yet still being human and natural. The little tidbits she could capture in his face, body language and flow... The intricate designs would be a real pleasure to paint.
*That is why I need him here, physically. Much better to see with the naked eye.*
Ren raps his knuckles on the door, in his usual garments. He does not grasp the reasoning why yet, but Albina seems… incredibly adamant about this. Him in specific. He knows how to specialize in being still, patient, and silent. But, to be a statue?
…Why is he doing this, exactly?
“Ren. Come in, come in,” she greets him inside, ushering him inside. “At this rate, I will never finish.” She has a towel folded down on the floor. “You can lean, just don’t make it too dependent. I want you and you only in this piece.”
Lamp lights decorate the room now- and he nimbly steps over the cords linking to them, instinctively on the tips of his footwear.
“These lights- so I can get the most accurate color-picking. Black won’t do, you’re more of a charcoal,”
“Wait, how long will I be here? I gander for a few hours?”
“Mmhm, usually. It’s two. Or- three, it depends.” She does that weird smile she always does.
His thumb slots between his heel and his shoe, balance kept even with a leg up- before finally tugging the first boot off. Seeing how Albina doesn’t seem to protest, he proceeds, resting his bare feet on the towel. Albina walks up, taking his shoes and putting them aside the towel before gripping his shoulders. She guides him to the center of the towel— even though he believed he was there already. Albina certainly has a sharper eye than him in that regard.
“More to the middle.” She says, retreating to the canvas that lies in front of him. “My core, or my feet?” He asks, experimenting with poses. His chest puffs out, too unnatural for someone as lean as Ren. “Cross your arms and relax your shoulders. Be natural. To my left, more, more.” Albina retracts back to the canvas, holding her paint brush out to see if he’s steady, thumb pressing on the silver heel of the brush. She does not sit herself down yet either- if she needed to correct him yet again.
“Hm. That’s fine.” She finally says. He locks in place.
“Thank you for doing this for me, Ren.” Albina adds, trying not to seem as stingy.
“You simply needed help. I do not mind.”
Albina settles down on her knees, thighs squishing under. He opens his mouth to ask if that was really comfortable, but he loses all interest in continuing the short-lived conversation.
She pauses, pulling her eyes away from the canvas. He doesn’t know if she’s going to say something, or just studying.
She dips her brush in a section of her palette, fingers still plastered over with grainy and dried cool colors of paint.
He uses this time to meditate. He closes his eyes and forgets all about the world for a few moments. A deep breath in- a deep breath out. He stables himself in this position. His chest flares with a throbbing ache with the breath.
“Ren, I need your eyes open.” Albina speaks. “Look at me,”
Dragging his eyes up- he follows what he was instructed. “Thank you,” she starts mixing vigorously. “Your eyes are almost like a nice, ashy cobalt. I can never pin it down- somewhere near that. Akin to a river.”
“Mhm."
“We contrast quite well, us two. You use dark colors and blue undertones- whilst I’m a mixture of yellow and white. With my normal clothing on, of course."
“Mm."
“And our personalities, too. You don’t talk, you listen. And I am speaking.”
“Astute.” He sarcastically replies.
“OK— you can close your eyes now. I got the color I needed.” Truly, to draw his eyes- she'd need them open. But Ren is probably tired enough... Why not give him a break?
He goes back to his quiet state, eyes closing and chin jerking down just slightly. She fills in the gaps of silence with her own dialogue. He rarely replies. It almost looks like he’s asleep.
Albina’s face drags up into one of satisfaction- The space becoming silent between them.