The first exhibit
Jilly hasn't eaten all day. She's tried, sure, and Geordie tempted her with exotic treats, fruit, even plain spaghetti at the last, but she couldn't swallow a bite.
"Just the smell makes my stomach knot up even more," she explains. "I know it's silly, but I can't help it. I just..." Jilly trails off, shrugging and wrinkling her nose.
Geordie sighs, rolls his eyes. "Artists," he says. "A bunch of nutters, all of you. Izzy's just as bad, with her weird little rituals before a show. Like it matters."
"Izzy's not bad," Jilly protests. "She's trying to make sure her numena are well-cared for. It's not superstitious."
Geordie sighs again. "Whatever," he says, having made his opinion of Izzy's numena quite clear long ago. He certainly didn't believe spirits from Faerie - or anywhere else - came through Isabelle Copley's lush paintings. Of course, Isabelle would deny it as fervently as Geordie, but Jilly didn't care. Jilly never cared what other people thought about the unseen and the mystical. She just went on believing what she saw. "You're in bad shape, that's for sure. You can't not eat, Jilly, you'll just blow away in the wind."
Jilly laughs. "Maybe," she says. "But think of all the wonderful places I might go."
Geordie finally deigns to smile at her. "Yeah, well, just don't expect me to believe your crazy stories when you come back."
Jilly sticks out her tongue at him and abandons any pretense at eating the now-cold spaghetti. "Come on," she says. "Christie wanted to meet us before the show. Did he tell you he's writing it up for the paper? Not like a serious review or anything, but as part of a piece on "emerging artists." Can you imagine, me an emerging artist?"
Geordie tugs on one of her curls. "You're more than that," he says seriously. "You're an artist already, and the rest of the world is just waiting to notice."
Jilly ducks her head, pleased and blushing slightly, but she brushes off the compliment. "Let's go, we're going to be late."
"Just the smell makes my stomach knot up even more," she explains. "I know it's silly, but I can't help it. I just..." Jilly trails off, shrugging and wrinkling her nose.
Geordie sighs, rolls his eyes. "Artists," he says. "A bunch of nutters, all of you. Izzy's just as bad, with her weird little rituals before a show. Like it matters."
"Izzy's not bad," Jilly protests. "She's trying to make sure her numena are well-cared for. It's not superstitious."
Geordie sighs again. "Whatever," he says, having made his opinion of Izzy's numena quite clear long ago. He certainly didn't believe spirits from Faerie - or anywhere else - came through Isabelle Copley's lush paintings. Of course, Isabelle would deny it as fervently as Geordie, but Jilly didn't care. Jilly never cared what other people thought about the unseen and the mystical. She just went on believing what she saw. "You're in bad shape, that's for sure. You can't not eat, Jilly, you'll just blow away in the wind."
Jilly laughs. "Maybe," she says. "But think of all the wonderful places I might go."
Geordie finally deigns to smile at her. "Yeah, well, just don't expect me to believe your crazy stories when you come back."
Jilly sticks out her tongue at him and abandons any pretense at eating the now-cold spaghetti. "Come on," she says. "Christie wanted to meet us before the show. Did he tell you he's writing it up for the paper? Not like a serious review or anything, but as part of a piece on "emerging artists." Can you imagine, me an emerging artist?"
Geordie tugs on one of her curls. "You're more than that," he says seriously. "You're an artist already, and the rest of the world is just waiting to notice."
Jilly ducks her head, pleased and blushing slightly, but she brushes off the compliment. "Let's go, we're going to be late."