For Sally

[wildrogue.livejournal.com]

In the cavernous depths of the museum a bat flew in apparently random swoops between the floor and ceiling. Perhaps it would have taken another bat (a particularly intelligent one at that) to understand that this was actually a sophisticated 3D mapping exercise. Finally satisfied the bat settled in a black corner and shifted into a woman with copper hair in jeans and a scruffy t-shirt. Feet bare she padded across the floor to collect the sketch pad and settled on an old counter. The security system would have to be updated of course – she should not be able to sit here undetected, but that was for another night. Tonight was for ideas.

Pipistrelle tucked dusty feet into a tailor’s seat and balanced the pad carefully on one knee. The challenge was not to create something that drew the eye, but something that focussed it without being an obvious stage. It should be somewhere that a harpy would be naturally drawn to stand. From the back of a pad she drew out a photograph of a woman with dark hair and clear blue eyes who was almost, but not quite, Firinne Devon. Well you couldn’t expect trust straight away but why not just say she would prefer not to give a picture. Memory would have to serve.

Soft lines appeared under a careless hand, drawing together to form a vista – a series of decorative arches and displays that drew the eye to a single focal point and framed a tall and beautiful woman. In Pipistrelle’s mind the scene was clear – all eyes drawn to a single point that made the person in the centre a living work of art, framing her perfectly. Wood or stone? Wood was somehow too soft, too mellow for this purpose though perhaps white oak would do. No. Firinne endured, it would have to be stone. But what? It was difficult to say on such short acquaintance but time was pressing and the orders would need to be placed soon. Marble was too tacky for her quiet elegance, sandstone too soft and the gold did not quite work with her colouring. If it were Jade Allen she would use alabaster which could be tricky but was pure white and polished to a high shine. Firinne was at once softer and less brittle than her colleague but had an odd note of sweetness to her which suggested something with a flush of colour rather than a solid block. Nothing with strong colours which would distract the eye though; it should be a compliment not a contrast.

She had it! A pale rose quartzite, unpolished but delicately carved would compliment the chestnut hair and bring out the colour in her pale face. Firinne flowed when she moved and that should be reflected by fluid carving. The next trick would be to design the room to carry sound correctly so as to enhance the quality of an already musical voice. Sound vases like the ones in medieval churches would do the trick nicely and would revive a lost skill, which should please Mr Riven.

The picture solidified in Pipistelle’s mind: Firinne dressed in black and red, framed by pale stone with a rosy flush carved in a Mackintosh style. The stronger colours of her clothing would draw the eye to her naturally. Classic, timeless elegance and grace that would last the years and still look soft and fresh as the day it was created. Done right it would turn the toreador into a work of art that would leave her fellows gaping.