Even though Cambi had agreed to sitting for a portrait, Mati thought that she might be feeling some of the pressures or some of the insecurities that might come to one that had been stared at for so long. There was no reason for her to fear that she would not look well on canvas, there was no reason for her to worry that even a stand of hair might be out of place. There was a certain aura of perfection that lingered around the brown toned young woman, a muse that played with the artistic side of Mati and beckoned for her to create the picture that would hold all the simple beauty clung to her subtle curves and the mysterious complexity that was held in her deep green blue eyes. She was gorgeous, and Mati was embarrassed to let the thought pass through her mind. It brought warmth to her face, but she couldn’t see why it would. Was it not all an innocent friendship? The other fey responded, and the Church woman looked back at her face in a small sort of surprise. She wasn’t?
Her heart beat loudly in her chest, a hammer against stretched cloth. “Okay.” Mati said, watching the smile that shown softly on her face. What else could be said? And a single question came to her quickly and filled her mind and would not be quieted. Her normal layer of confidence was thinning; as it had been the moment she had decided that this would be the day for the painting. Eyes were lowered to the desk, her heart still beating heavily. She wouldn’t call her a liar and try to believe that what Cambria said was not the truth, but the last two words stuck with the older wolfess. It seemed that they were reading into every single word that they spoke, and Mati took in all her movements, each change of tone, each glance that she gave and took to give the floor, her hands, Enzo or a piece of art that hung in her room. “What are you feeling?” The question came, just as uncontrolled as the thoughts that had started this extended moment of confusion. She could ask, they were friends, it was harmless. Wasn’t it?
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