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Sep. 23rd, 2010 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8chaSo, due to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dcu6wordstories I've met a whole bunch of new awesome people. Who like DC. Who I can talk to and who are HORRIBLE AWFUL PEOPLE who encourage me to do bad things. Like Rasha and her encouragement to write DC/Kushiel fusion fic. Also, Sinestro/Kyle.
Kyle had wondered before why he was brought in to produce artwork of certain members of the Night Court when the Night Court had a cabal of the best artists in the city within its walls. That was before he had met the Eglantine artists and observed the way they interacted with the other house. It made sense to him, then, that he was paid to paint Night Court practitioners from Allysum, Cereus, Dahlia and Valerian. Sometimes the servants of Namaah paid him for the portrait themselves; sometimes it was a patron wishing for a keepsake. Like the portrait Kyle was delivering now. He had been paid handsomely by Admiral Hal Jordan to paint Carol nó Heliotrope-Ferris’ portrait.
It was an honor to have been requested for such a work because Carol was the Dowayne of Heliotrope and one of the more beautiful women Kyle had laid his eyes on. She had posed marvelously, her dark hair spread out over a pillow as she lounged on a lilac colored chaise. The violet sheet she had worn loosely draped over her hinted at erotic curves that had made Kyle’s throat tight. Kyle thought the portrait had turned out rather well, even if, in Kyle’s opinion, it was not nearly as beautiful as the real thing.
Hal Jordan’s house was warm, not just in temperature but in color and atmosphere. It was modest enough for the prize of His Majesty’s navy. Due to the number of battles he had won and the number of storms he had survived many people called Hal the greatest navy man ever.
Kyle’s worn down boot heels made soft ssh-ing noises against the plush patterned rug that lead to Hal’s study. He had been in the study a handful of times before, to paint Hal’s portrait once, and so Hal’s doorman had allowed him to take the portrait up on his own. Kyle knocked on the rich cedar door perfunctorily before he quietly opened the door. “Hal? I’m here with your…”
The man seated at Hal Jordan’s desk was not Hal Jordan. Hal was a fair skinned man with brown hair, while this man was ruddy skinned and black haired. Hal was taller by half a hand than this man and broad while this man was thin, his body like a whipcord. “I’m sorry to intrude.” Kyle glanced around the study, attempting to see if he had missed Hal somehow. Hal’s housekeeper had not mentioned another appointment and he had said that Hal was in his study. Kyle nervously shuffled his feet under the amused man’s stare (were his eyes gold or just light brown?).
“Don’t stand in the doorway, Jordan will return in a minute.” Kyle hesitated and the man arched one dangerously thin and pointed eyebrow, Kyle stepped into the study and let the door close behind him.
Kyle wasn’t sure what to say. ‘I’m here to deliver this portrait?’ No, maybe ‘when will Hal be returning?’ or possibly ‘who are you?’. There were a lot of questions he could ask, or things he could say, but finding himself pinned by the other’s gaze he found that he really couldn’t. Silence hung in the room, not awkward, but strained. Kyle glanced away from the ruddy faced man and instead focused on the wide map that decorated the wall of Hal’s study between two broad windows.
“Who are you, boy?” The question forced Kyle to look back at the man. He wasn’t beautiful, not in any way, but there was a fineness to his features that Kyle could recognize as D’Angeline. Kyle wondered if he was mixed, half Cruithne and half D’Angeline, as was becoming the custom, or perhaps a mix of D’Angeline and some swarthy Tiberium bloodline.
“Kyle Rayner, sir.” There was a definite twitch in the man’s eyebrow causing it to move dangerously higher.
“A commoner, then.” The man turned away from Hal’s desk and Kyle to face the window. “Jordan always did associate with the worst sort of riffraff.”
“Hey!” Kyle almost dropped the painting but instead set it carefully down on the floor leaning against one of Hal’s heavy arm chairs. “I’m not riffraff, mister, I’m an artist.” This statement earned Kyle a sharper look and a dismissive scoff.
“An artist. I wasn’t aware Jordan was consorting with common whores now.” Kyle felt his shoulders tighten and the man noticed it. “Or are you from Eglantine house? My apologies.” A smirk that made Kyle’s tight shoulders grow tighter and a cold shiver race down his spine. “I’ll ask for you the next time I visit.”
Kyle checked to make sure the painting was steady against the back of the chair before giving the ruddy faced man a glare. “You won’t find me there.”
Hal’s study door made a satisfying slamming noise when Kyle stormed out, although the rug did rather dampen the sound of his stomping feet.
dcu6wordstories I've met a whole bunch of new awesome people. Who like DC. Who I can talk to and who are HORRIBLE AWFUL PEOPLE who encourage me to do bad things. Like Rasha and her encouragement to write DC/Kushiel fusion fic. Also, Sinestro/Kyle.Kyle had wondered before why he was brought in to produce artwork of certain members of the Night Court when the Night Court had a cabal of the best artists in the city within its walls. That was before he had met the Eglantine artists and observed the way they interacted with the other house. It made sense to him, then, that he was paid to paint Night Court practitioners from Allysum, Cereus, Dahlia and Valerian. Sometimes the servants of Namaah paid him for the portrait themselves; sometimes it was a patron wishing for a keepsake. Like the portrait Kyle was delivering now. He had been paid handsomely by Admiral Hal Jordan to paint Carol nó Heliotrope-Ferris’ portrait.
It was an honor to have been requested for such a work because Carol was the Dowayne of Heliotrope and one of the more beautiful women Kyle had laid his eyes on. She had posed marvelously, her dark hair spread out over a pillow as she lounged on a lilac colored chaise. The violet sheet she had worn loosely draped over her hinted at erotic curves that had made Kyle’s throat tight. Kyle thought the portrait had turned out rather well, even if, in Kyle’s opinion, it was not nearly as beautiful as the real thing.
Hal Jordan’s house was warm, not just in temperature but in color and atmosphere. It was modest enough for the prize of His Majesty’s navy. Due to the number of battles he had won and the number of storms he had survived many people called Hal the greatest navy man ever.
Kyle’s worn down boot heels made soft ssh-ing noises against the plush patterned rug that lead to Hal’s study. He had been in the study a handful of times before, to paint Hal’s portrait once, and so Hal’s doorman had allowed him to take the portrait up on his own. Kyle knocked on the rich cedar door perfunctorily before he quietly opened the door. “Hal? I’m here with your…”
The man seated at Hal Jordan’s desk was not Hal Jordan. Hal was a fair skinned man with brown hair, while this man was ruddy skinned and black haired. Hal was taller by half a hand than this man and broad while this man was thin, his body like a whipcord. “I’m sorry to intrude.” Kyle glanced around the study, attempting to see if he had missed Hal somehow. Hal’s housekeeper had not mentioned another appointment and he had said that Hal was in his study. Kyle nervously shuffled his feet under the amused man’s stare (were his eyes gold or just light brown?).
“Don’t stand in the doorway, Jordan will return in a minute.” Kyle hesitated and the man arched one dangerously thin and pointed eyebrow, Kyle stepped into the study and let the door close behind him.
Kyle wasn’t sure what to say. ‘I’m here to deliver this portrait?’ No, maybe ‘when will Hal be returning?’ or possibly ‘who are you?’. There were a lot of questions he could ask, or things he could say, but finding himself pinned by the other’s gaze he found that he really couldn’t. Silence hung in the room, not awkward, but strained. Kyle glanced away from the ruddy faced man and instead focused on the wide map that decorated the wall of Hal’s study between two broad windows.
“Who are you, boy?” The question forced Kyle to look back at the man. He wasn’t beautiful, not in any way, but there was a fineness to his features that Kyle could recognize as D’Angeline. Kyle wondered if he was mixed, half Cruithne and half D’Angeline, as was becoming the custom, or perhaps a mix of D’Angeline and some swarthy Tiberium bloodline.
“Kyle Rayner, sir.” There was a definite twitch in the man’s eyebrow causing it to move dangerously higher.
“A commoner, then.” The man turned away from Hal’s desk and Kyle to face the window. “Jordan always did associate with the worst sort of riffraff.”
“Hey!” Kyle almost dropped the painting but instead set it carefully down on the floor leaning against one of Hal’s heavy arm chairs. “I’m not riffraff, mister, I’m an artist.” This statement earned Kyle a sharper look and a dismissive scoff.
“An artist. I wasn’t aware Jordan was consorting with common whores now.” Kyle felt his shoulders tighten and the man noticed it. “Or are you from Eglantine house? My apologies.” A smirk that made Kyle’s tight shoulders grow tighter and a cold shiver race down his spine. “I’ll ask for you the next time I visit.”
Kyle checked to make sure the painting was steady against the back of the chair before giving the ruddy faced man a glare. “You won’t find me there.”
Hal’s study door made a satisfying slamming noise when Kyle stormed out, although the rug did rather dampen the sound of his stomping feet.
