As per usual, Eli had grown frustrated and annoyed, having painted most every surface of his house (and was working his way across the ceiling), he had gotten to the point when he realised, currently, none of his work was going to go
anywhere. The only people who had ever come and gone from his little house was he and Treize. Whether intentionally or not, it had become their own little secret space, hidden away from the world. It was all well and good, but the whole point of his art was for it to be seen
. (And paid for, but that wasn't exactly the artistic spirit.)
So, after several temper tantrums, several other hours laying in bed entwined with Treize, and several more hours painting a variety of canvases, Eli d marched to the Samavian Art Gallery - something sponsored by the Samavian Academy of Art. Half the stuff in there (more than half, really) Eli didn't think much of. Turning his nose up at all manner of portraits, landscapes, seascapes and abstract designs. "Shit. Shit. Crap. Doubly Shit. Shit-on-crap..." he commented, loudly and unashamedly as they made their way down the halls. "Who picks these things for display? Are they blind?!"
Eli wove his fingers between Treize's own and quickly burrowed his face into the man's neck, nipping at the skin there briefly. "We're going to find the curator." He tilted his head up, letting his nose run up Treize's neck to settle just beneath his ear, "Then shove some real art down his throat and make him put it up on the shitty walls so everyone can see." He offered a grin, and quickly bit at Treize's ear just for good measure, before hugging the canvas with one arm close to himself and promptly striding through the gallery.
Bene was admiring the work in one of the grand halls. A wide, square room with the ceiling made entirely of glass. In the winter, the white sky illuminated the room with almost an ethereal, ghostly glow, and as the snow fell and the dark came upon, a series of new-fangled electric lights in the form of chandeliers kept the gallery open for longer, casting new visions and new scenes upon the artwork in a completely different light. Paintings filled the room, placed in positions of significant gravitas, or beautiful simplicity. Each chosen for their specific dramatic effect.
Today it was a cold day, and even a roaring fireplace at the far end of the room did little to warm the wide halls with marble floors. Visitors and art enthusiasts wandered about in thick coats and fur hats, pausing to admire one painting, followed by another. Bene, who had felt he had rather neglected the gallery of recent months, was in attendance in a thick black beaver-fur lined coat and a shiny new cane glinting in the cold light. He strode towards the grand hall, proudly, always keen and content to see what new works the gallery had to offer. Beautiful things that he could never have dreamed or imagined, finding an exquisite beauty in every single piece that the gallery had to offer.
In tow was Renly, whom, as far as Bene was concerned, looked just as stunning as always. Golden hair glinting in the Winter light in such a way that he could very well have stepped forth from one of those romantic paintings without a cursory glance. If he could, Bene would have gladly have had a painting of the handsome boy made, but he knew all too well he would not be kind enough to let the world see it hung up in the gallery. He would much rather be selfish and keep it for himself, to look at and admire in the hours and days when he was not within Renly's company. "I think I have a new idea for an opera" he commented, lightly, dark eyes admiring the paintings, only to slip towards Renly with a tender smile and a shimmer that was not there before. "A painting come to life, and the artist falls in love with his work?"