For last week's b7friday topic of art, four drabbles, one for each season.
Art for All Seasons
"It wasn't bad for an amateur," said Vila, "but I'd have been through that lock in three seconds flat."
Avon's eyes narrowed. "Prove it."
Vila did so, and executed an ironic bow, his good humour back now that he'd got his Amagon collar off.
Avon gritted his teeth. "At least I did it. However I fail to see how I could have been faster."
"I bet you were thinking instead of feeling the lock, weren't you? Common beginner's mistake. It's an art, not a science."
"Vila. That right there is the main difference between us."
Vila grinned. "Why, thank you!"
It was, if he said so himself, the most tasteful room in the entire casino hotel complex. The pale lilac walls, the gauzy drapes, and the classic Greek pillars trimmed with gold were the epitome of elegance. The statues were a touch of genius. The bared-chested classical youth and the Moorish slave boy were true objets d'art, but it had been Krantor's own flair that had added feather headdresses and a cascade of gilded fruit to match the gold on the pillars.
So he was no longer the casino manager. No matter; he'd always wanted to go into interior design.
"You asked for something different, Madame President." The artist stood proudly by his draped work, a slight tremor in his hands betraying his nervousness.
"I did." Servalan waved her arm imperiously. "Show me."
He removed the cover and stood back.
Servalan drew in her breath. The painting showed her, luminous and magnificent in white, against a background of glittering stars--and space so real, it was an absence of light. She stepped forward and touched the blackness. It was soft. It was--
"Velvet," said the artist. "An ancient technique I read about."
Hmm. Black could be the new white.
Soolin hung her latest painting, of a Seska boat moored under a tree, and smiled. She felt she had captured the peace and stillness of the scene and the chill winter light.
"I don't know why you bother," Dorian said behind her. "Why don't you just take a photo?"
"Because it's a challenge." Soolin turned to look at him. "Have you ever painted?"
"My dear Soolin, I myself am a walking work of art."
Soolin rolled her eyes.
"I like it," Vila said. "Very real. It looks like a nice place to be."
Soolin smiled. Sometimes it was all worthwhile.