Wake up...
Lina opened her eyes a millimeter or so, letting in a lance of red sunrise. Already? Lina looked around, trying to find her bearings amidst the drowsiness left by the lingering shrouds of sleep. She glanced up, and realization flooded her senses. Oh.
Lina sat up in the huge room, smiling in pure happiness. The studio. His studio. Where his beautiful talent had escaped to freedom, running wild from it's earthly confines and creating such masterpieces as the world wished to even glimpse. Lina smiled softly. And she had fallen asleep among them. What bliss. What utter and complete bliss.
Look.
A persistent tugging at the side of her mind, a sharp light out of the corner of her eye, directed Lina's attention to a small corner behind a dancing couple. Lina lifted her tired body and padded carefully over to the oilcloth-wrapped canvases leaned up against the wall behind the spinning duo. She paused, uncertain of what to do.
"The dancers?" She asked aloud, looking at the statue with wonder. One was a lithe, graceful young man, with hair that didn't seem to behave and eyes that sparkled with newfound happiness. The young woman he danced with was laughing happily, her slightly messy hair bouncing about her face as she smiled happily at the young man. But if you looked very, very hard, you could see a hidden detachment inside of them, a dying light that even the artist himself hadn't seen.
Oh.. oh my, it's them... it's Zelgadis and Amelia, and - Lina's horrified thoughts were cut short buy a curt wave of annoyance.
No. Behind. Lina edged away from the now frightening statue. He hadn't even seen the odd distance in her eyes, even as he put it into his sculpture, until it was too late. Oh, Zelgadis... Lina walked over to the canvases and pulled aside an oilcloth, hesitantly to reveal -
A blank canvas. "What about it?"
Annoyance and impatience flooded her mind as the ghost became irked. Not that. Behind. Far behind.
Lina shrugged and pulled out the canvas far behind the others, nearly buried beneath them. Carrying it delicately, she walked back across the patterned tile to where she had fallen asleep. Odd, the room wasn't nearly as cold as it was the last time she was there...
"This one?"
Assent flooded her mind as she pulled away the oilcloth, taking in the panting beneath.
Lina's mouth went dry and her eyes grew huge.
You, came the soft, wavering thought into her stunned, silent mind. Lina reached out with hesitant fingers to brush the perfect brush strokes, the phenomenal beauty and perfection of the figure lying on the cold stone floor. It was her, more perfect than a photograph, her russet hair gleaming in the soft moonlight. He had captured her perfectly, the slackness of her sleeping face, the slight smile tugging at her lips from a pleasant dream. She could almost reach into the picture and touch her slumbering counterpart, could see the emotion dancing across her sleeping face, could hear her breath as she slept blissfully. It was beautiful, matchless and lovely, more perfect than the sun and more lovely than the moon. She looked into the haze of tense, waiting emotion, and smiled the happiest and yet saddest smile that had ever graced her face.
"I didn't know I could look so beautiful. You really have a talent," she joked into the expectant silence.
You like?
Came the hesitant thought, reaching out to her like a child asking if his drawing was good. She almost laughed. Zelgadis was so hurt and lonely. He's been hurt so badly... He's frightened while being threatening at the same time. She laughed aloud and hugged the paining to her.
"I love it."
Floods of happiness hit her like a tidal wave, before drying up and disappearing. Lina looked up through the huge windows at the sun, now hanging above the trees on a golden thread, reaching its arms out to wake its children. What a beautiful day... Lina thought, holding the painting tightly, careful not to hurt it. I think I may sing.
"Sylphiel!" Heads turned to see a joyful girl of about eighteen laughing and racing down the street towards the bakery. Her flame red hair dulled by the street dust she kicked up whipped about her face like flaming serpents, but the sprightly youth didn't notice or care. Dingy blue jeans filled with rips and holes covered the running feet down to her high leather boots, and her bright, if travel stained green tee-shirt hugged her heaving torso as she ran up to the laughing, raven haired woman on the steps. "Got any gingerbread I could beg off you?" She grinned, looking up at the laughing woman with midnight tresses, who could only gasp for breath in between giggles as a reply.
"Ah, c'mon, Sylphiel!" The redhead begged pitifully. "You'd feel awful if I starved, wouldn't you? Just think of it; 'beautiful and talented artist starves in own home, neighbors say bakery had plenty to give.' It would be awful for business!"
Sylphiel laughed. "I suppose I could give you a few of the day-olds..."
Lina tragically put her hand to her breast and fell backward on the steps, feigning death. "Ah, woe is I," Cried the corpse dramatically. "For I shall never be able to digest such things with my hunger-weakened stomach. I shall die, though my belly is filled with nourishment."
"The only thing weak about your stomach is the places the steel nails go to hold the cast-iron together, Lina."
"You wound me with your words!"
Anyone watching would be amazed. Lina and Sylphiel were almost complete opposites; Lina danced with an unbroken fire, everything about her screaming 'my way, not yours.' Her bright sunset hair matched her stubborn, exciting disposition perfectly, and her deep red eyes spoke of untapped strength and intelligence. She was a flame, bright and beautiful, but if you weren't careful, she would burn you.
Sylphiel, on the other hand, was a coolly bubbling brook, her happiness at the world eclipsed only by her generosity and caring. Where Lina was stubborn, she was forgiving. Where Lina was exciting, she was calming. She was the water to cool Lina's fire, and while they looked so different, they were a perfect match.
"I suppose I might have a bit left in the oven..." Sylphiel allowed, edging away from the beeline path to the ovens. "But I don't know - "
Lina left only a cloud of dust as she raced for the innocent gingerbread, attacking it mercilessly and devouring every last crumb. Slyphiel only laughed again and made her way inside after the ravenous sunset headed teenager.
"Surely you did not race the three miles from that house only to secure my gingerbread," Sylphiel said cheerfully, sitting across from the grinning girl on one of the couches. Her raven hair draped across her arms and she placed them softly onto her lap. "What happened last night?"
Lina grinned from ear to ear, making her look rather like an inebriated frog. Sylphiel tried to concentrate on listening and not laughing.
"Just look at this!" Lina said quickly, ripping open the zipper on her backpack and shoving a canvas into Sylphiel's waiting hands. Lina sat back into the red velvet as Sylphiel's eyes went wide and her mouth went dry, gazing at the perfect double of the redhead sitting smugly before her.
"Did you do this?" She finally asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the exquisite work. Lina grinned even wider, if it was possible, and shook her head, tossing the mane of red hair as she did.
"That's the best part," Lina exclaimed, jumping up to pump one fist into the air in victory, "I didn't!"
"What?" Confusion made itself clear across the usually kind and impassive face, staring at the clearly insane girl dancing happily before her. "But if you didn't paint it, who..."
"Zelgadis did." Lina looked like the cat who'd swallowed the canary, pet rabbit and gerbil, too. Sylphiel gasped and dropped the painting, making Lina leap to the floor to catch it before it was damaged. Lina watched as the woman stepped backwards, then fell back into her chair in utter shock. She moved her mouth as if to talk, but the words had a long way to go.
"I would say you're lying, but..." Sylphiel looked at the painting longingly, as though wishing for something far gone. "But he painted that. It's clear - only Zelgadis painted like that. " She looked away slowly, staring at the carvings on the wall.
Lina stepped forward and put a hand on the older woman's shoulder, trying to give her some calm, a bit of tranquility amidst the confusion plain on her face. "He's waking up." She really cries easily...
Sylphiel wiped her wet eyes and grinned, happiness bursting through the clouds upon her face. "Yes. Well, shall we have some victory gingerbread?" She stood and almost bounced over to the stove, where she pulled a pan of just finished gingerbread from the stove. "Perfect as perfect can be."
Lovely as the moon, Lina thought, looking once more at Zelgadis's painting before racing forward to devour the unsuspecting cake.
"I'm home!!" Lina shouted into the dusty house, grabbing her new cleaning supplies and making ready to attack the dust covering the two upper floors with its dingy grey cloak. A mist of emotion swirled about her in welcome, the faint breeze that followed tickling her sides and making her burst into happy giggles. She stood framed in the window, simply enjoying the feeling as the bright orange sun prepared to dip down to the trees. Then she smiled into the room, raced up the carpeted stairs, and started working on the enveloping filth.
Home. Yes. That feels... right. Lina smiled as she worked, humming happily into the silent, but nowhere near empty, room.
I'm home. Finally.
The months passed like birds startled from the trees, swiftly scattering by on their way to somewhere else. Lina had never known time to pass so swiftly, or cared so little that it did. Lina, who had never stayed in one place too long, always moved when a town became too monotonous; when the slowly passing time finally dragged on too long. But the minutes flew by faster then Lina cared to pay attention to. All she cared about was home. Home. A place she could look forward to going to after a hard day. Home. A place filled with beauty and perfection, everything about it wonderful in it's own, unique way. Home. Where a warm, happy greeting eventually swirled about her when she entered the door, a kindred spirit whose love lay in art, a perfect friend and presence in a cold, dark room near the fire.
Home.
And for the first time in her life, Lina Inverse was truly, deliriously happy.