Eyes pulled away, blinking softly and looking down at the palette. The colored mixed at the persuasion of the flat edged knife, and she entered the stages of a base layer. It was lighter then her normal color, and held more yellow then Cambria obviously was. Mati was glad that no one watched her work, for the process was something that might look odd to another. It always made sense in her mind, and she filled the shapes that she had used to create Cambria’s figure. Suddenly Mati turned to the bird, eyes looking up to catch him playing with his caregiver’s mane. The female gave a delight-filled laugh at Enzo’s teasing, and Mati watched the two interact. It was a wordless relationship, two that were so different and yet work so well together. It wasn’t hard to see the love that radiated from the younger female, to see the care that she gave to the small bird. If she were honest Mati would confess that she and Ambrose were more like roommates then as good friends as the two that filled her view. But, it did not mean that Mati didn’t love the little hedgepig, it was simply easy to see that their relationship fell short.
As she continued Mati found that when she looked up from the painting she was no longer looking for all those different colors, though she saw them easily. They came to her brush and the paint layered on the pulled fabric as if her mind had already painted this portrait. She watched her breathe, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the movements that came from the curve of her neck when she turned to face the small bird that sat on her shoulder. She needed more red there, a deeper tone and more effort to make the fur look as soft as Mati was sure it truly was. Eyes came up again, her throat, the nook where her pulse would be found, beating beneath thin skin and the fur there even softer then below it. The shadow was not right. Mati looked down to correct the width of it. Violet orbs hardly fell down long enough to watch the brush complete it’s task. She was at the curve of her jaw now. It hardly existed, so smooth, so subtle that Mati did not think it would hold two fingers if she placed them there. She could see the yellow that needed to be added, a hint of white to soften the transition to her cheek.
But eyes did not look away to the painting, her brush stationary. Mati felt a breath come to her chest; the body working though her mind was somewhere else. Her muzzle, it was perfect here and in it’s mimic. Nothing needed to be changed there. Immobile on the stool Mati sat, brush-hand raise slightly in the air, palette in her lap and looked at the woman’s eyes. The stands of dark fur almost touched them. As if each had been placed the accented the sea born gaze, not a single one stood in the Church woman’s way, the path as clear as the glistening color itself. She should be worried that she would not be able to recreate it, the hue so bold, so beyond that of what the Earth could give that she would have to pray for help from beyond to gain the power to do so. Another breath came, her lungs still working as she drifted to a world that she had never felt propelled to go, a world that confused her. Her exhale was soft, slow and passed beyond her lips so easily as the thought passed through her mind, God, your.."
"Beautiful"
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