Ficlet: "A Mere Study in Perspective" [Piratica, Art/Felix]
Title: A Mere Study in Perspective
Fandom: Piratica series by Tanith Lee
Rating: PG
Summary: Felix contemplates line, form, and Art Blastside... for the sake of justice, of course.
A/N: This takes place in the middle of the first novel (Being a Daring Tale of a Singular Girl's Adventures Upon the High Seas). Unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.
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In his quarters below deck, Felix sharpened his pencil nub with a spare razor blade for the task ahead. He smoothed a fresh paper on his desk and began to sketch the slightly off-profile outline of the face, the curve of her neck, the broad landowner jacket eclipsing her shoulders--by now, all efforts practiced enough to come to him with ease.
He occasionally paused to recall the image once again from his memory, focused on capturing her face basking in the afternoon sun and her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. That steely glint in her eyes he had successfully mastered, the frenzy of her hair against the westerly breeze he had not. It bothered the perfectionist in him even as he assured himself that any Republican justice will be capable of reckoning his approximations.
He had been in the midst of shading her boots when he heard footsteps outside the room. Ever the nimble one, he managed to crumple the paper and stuff it down his shirt a mere moment before Art herself appeared at the doorway and bowed low with an almost sincere deference.
"Good evening, Mr. Phoenix."
Felix exhaled as he inclined his own head. "'Evening, Captain Blastside."
"I suppose I should assume, once again, that you have no plans to disembark at our current port."
"I'm afraid you assume correctly, Captain," he said, meeting her stare.
Art still smiled. "In that case, I hope you'd be so kind as to oblige our crew by accompanying us to a local tavern."
"Of course," Felix replied.
"Please hurry up, then, Mr. Phoenix," she said, gesturing to the hallway. "The rest of them are already waiting on the docks."
Art turned on her magnificently heeled boot and marched outside of the room. Felix fished the sketch (dismally wrinkled beyond recognition or utility) from his clothes and followed, sighing softly to himself in her wake.
Fandom: Piratica series by Tanith Lee
Rating: PG
Summary: Felix contemplates line, form, and Art Blastside... for the sake of justice, of course.
A/N: This takes place in the middle of the first novel (Being a Daring Tale of a Singular Girl's Adventures Upon the High Seas). Unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.
AO3 mirror
In his quarters below deck, Felix sharpened his pencil nub with a spare razor blade for the task ahead. He smoothed a fresh paper on his desk and began to sketch the slightly off-profile outline of the face, the curve of her neck, the broad landowner jacket eclipsing her shoulders--by now, all efforts practiced enough to come to him with ease.
He occasionally paused to recall the image once again from his memory, focused on capturing her face basking in the afternoon sun and her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. That steely glint in her eyes he had successfully mastered, the frenzy of her hair against the westerly breeze he had not. It bothered the perfectionist in him even as he assured himself that any Republican justice will be capable of reckoning his approximations.
He had been in the midst of shading her boots when he heard footsteps outside the room. Ever the nimble one, he managed to crumple the paper and stuff it down his shirt a mere moment before Art herself appeared at the doorway and bowed low with an almost sincere deference.
"Good evening, Mr. Phoenix."
Felix exhaled as he inclined his own head. "'Evening, Captain Blastside."
"I suppose I should assume, once again, that you have no plans to disembark at our current port."
"I'm afraid you assume correctly, Captain," he said, meeting her stare.
Art still smiled. "In that case, I hope you'd be so kind as to oblige our crew by accompanying us to a local tavern."
"Of course," Felix replied.
"Please hurry up, then, Mr. Phoenix," she said, gesturing to the hallway. "The rest of them are already waiting on the docks."
Art turned on her magnificently heeled boot and marched outside of the room. Felix fished the sketch (dismally wrinkled beyond recognition or utility) from his clothes and followed, sighing softly to himself in her wake.