Disclaimer: I own nothing, well maybe the personality of one of the characters. BUT! Nothing else! ^_^

In the Eye of the Beholder

With attentive eyes still on the canvas, the man slowly reached down to his utensil table. He made his fingers swiftly brush each tool until he finally laid hand on what he was looking for. Once he picked it up, he turned his head and studied it carefully while his brows knit together in concentration.

Testing the bristles, he swept it smoothly against his opposite hand's finger and nodded in approval. The man then directed the brush to his chosen colors, and gently dipped it in a light shade of blue. Eyes silently searching the image, he found the spot where he left off and started to make quick but soft strokes.

Then, all of a sudden a few raps on the door broke into the quiet interior of Volney Rain's room.

The artist stopped his painting and looked up at the door. He wasn't expecting any visitors other than the buyer to his latest assignment. And that wasn't due for another week. I wonder who it is. He mused curiously. No one usually came to him personally unless-

He gasped realizing the stranger was still waiting outside as he contemplated the interruption. So he quickly put down the brush and stood up, grabbing a used rag to clean his hands from stray paint.

"I'm very sorry," Volney started formally, opening the mahogany door. "I was-" He stopped mid-sentence, surprised at who the visitor was. But a look of relief crossed his face glad that it wasn't a customer demanding for their request sooner. Volney loathed that.

So he dropped his business voice, and smiled at the tall man in the doorway. "Well, you gave me quite a startle!"

Smiling back, the visitor replied, "I should be the one apologizing." His dark eyes looked over Volney's shoulder. "I seem to have interrupted your work. Perhaps I should come another time?"

The artist gave a hearty laugh. "Nonsense!" he said and moved out of his way. "Come in! What would you like me to do for you?"

Accepting the invitation, the man politely walked past him and Volney closed the door behind him. He expected his friend to state the business as to why he was here, with the usual confidence he had when talking; but when Volney turned back around to face him, the man actually had a look of hesitation on his face.

Brows furrowed in confusion, Volney asked "Is something wrong?"

The person in front of him answered slowly, choosing his words with care. "I . . . I wanted to request a painting from you." He stopped then continued. "Of something . . ."

Volney chuckled. "Was that so hard to say?" The visitor also gave a laugh, although a bit nervous. "What would you like painted? The weather here has been splendid actually, and I'm doing quite a lot of scenery paintings for other people," he added. "Perhaps you also?"

But Numair Samalìn shook his head apologetically. "No, it's of a person . . . of Daine really."

Volney thought for a moment. "Daine?" Then his face lit up as he mentally matched her up. "Oh Veralidaine! Your student, am I correct?"

"Yes . . . my student." The mage nodded his head slowly. But Volney continued, "A nasty hit she had with that unicorn fever some months back. But she has recovered quite well! Mind you, I know others who have recovered but are still a bit weak in the future. But that Veralidaine! Bursting with energy she is!" Realization struck him once again. "Oh! I'm rambling on aren't I? Back to business.

But Numair smiled. "Is it too much trouble? I mean with what you're doing now." He gestured to Volney's work behind him. But the artist replied, "Don't worry! I'm just touching it up a bit. It's really almost done."

The tall mage nodded again. "Um, I imagine Daine would just laugh at me if I were to ask her to sit down while you paint. Is it alright if . . .?"

"Of course!" Volney grinned and tapped his head. "Picture perfect memory I have! It's no trouble at all."

Numair smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

Remembering one more thing the artist added. "Oh yes. Is there a specific size you want the painting?" He looked at him and once more, he found the mage unsure of his words. His eyes were set down cast, looking at the floor; it was quite strange to see him this way actually.

But then suddenly something caught his eye, it was in Numair's hand. And although he seemed to be gripping it tightly, a part of it glinted against the light. Numair looked up and saw what caught Volney's attention. He brought his hand up and showed it to the painter.

"Could you make it about the size . . . of this?" His was voice oddly quiet.

And there, resting in his palm was a golden chain and a locket.

Volney eyed it with polite curiosity, then asked "May I?" Numair nodded and he handed it over. Once in hand, he took one more second to look it over. A lover's token? A small section of his head questioned. Maybe. Maybe not, Volney answered mentally. It is not my place to assume.

He gently opened the locket and studied the inside. Clipped on one side of the accessory was a single curl of smoky brown hair. The artist looked up at Numair with eyes of understanding and he smiled. "I think I can arrange that."