To Run With The Rising Sun

Chapter 4

The Art of The Soul

A/N: Inspiration: The Art of the Soul by Anna Nalick

Another day had passed and Celine had found both her mind and body wandering. She finally knew that Jeremy had been the one to find her, having gone out on a run while simultaneously checking the perimeter of the Stone Haven property for any disturbances. Apparently, he had heard the attack, his ears picking up on her heartbeat along with the smell of the mutt that had attacked her. He'd found her laying there on the cold hard forest floor, her body soaking wet from the rain and blood flowing from her leg and shoulder, her body shaking from the pain. It was the night that everything changed.

Pausing in her thoughts, Celine thought back to Jeremy again. His scent had filled the room down in the cellar, meaning that he had been there with her nearly the entire time that she had been there. He had watched over her when he had no obligation to do so. He'd guided her through the change, comforting her where he could. He'd even embraced her in his arms after releasing her from her 'prison', holding her close regardless of her bare form and then offered her some of his clothes. His arms, they'd been so warm, a feeling of safety swelling inside of her. She had felt like curling up against him and falling asleep, sleeping right there in his arms.

Shaking her head, she ran her hand through her hair. Looking down, she glanced at her attire. She still had a pair of Jeremy's pants on, having rolled the black material up, inevitably turning them into what would resemble capris. A black belt also adorned her waist, keeping the pants in place. No one in the house really had anything small enough for her to wear, so she decided to remain with the pants that had been lent out to her, not wanting to dawn a dress at the moment. She much preferred pants to dresses and skirts. As far as the shirt, it was also Jeremy's. She had decided to just keep it on, the smell seeming to comfort her in her thoughts. Once she got her things back, she planned on returning both the pants and shirt. Although, a small part of her didn't want to give the shirt back. For some reason, the scent was just too damn enticing.

Pushing herself forward, Celine walked through the house, taking in what she could. Everywhere she turned she would find a 'relic' on a platform, the items decorating the house and adding to the décor. There was a large sculpture at the front of the foyer when entering the house. She'd been informed that the creature carved into it was that of a wolf, the piece rising high with the staircase. In a way, it made the space seem a bit larger than it was as it stretched high above.

Celine's eyes trailed to the staircase next, truly taking it in for the first time as it pulled her forward. The polished wood of the stairs shone back at her as she let her feet guide her upward. She gripped the railing slightly, feeling the firmness beneath her hand. Old artwork lined the wall to her left, turning and halting at the stained glass window. The window was gorgeous, but simple with its blocked colors of red and blues. Other than for simplistic beauty, it seemed to hold no real purpose. She pushed that to the side though as she continued her way up the stairs, her fingers trailing once again along the wood of the walls, feeling the smoothness of the adorning panels. She wasn't really sure what to do with herself as she continued to wander, momentarily heeding Jeremy's advice of staying inside of the house. Even though every single part of her seemed to be screaming inside to run.

She could picture herself running outside, the sun on her face as she left the confines of where she'd been held. She'd been there in the dark for several days, most of the light having been blocked out due to the structure of the stone windows down in the cellar where she'd initially been kept.

Stepping toward the end of one of the halls, she found one of the doors had been left unattended, the crack in the doorway pulling her closer. She knew that she shouldn't bother it, but she couldn't help it, her hand pressing lightly against the doorway. She winced as it creaked, frowning for a moment. Drawing a breath of air she drew her feet forward and allowed herself to slide inside. Celine was shocked when she entered the room, staring at the walls of white.

Photos lined the walls with sunsets. Misty skies stood before her, followed by stormy grey skies, and tree lines rose high. Bowls and cups littered the tables pressed against the walls, acting as a storage place, all of which needed thoroughly cleaned due to the large collection. One can only paint with so many bowls and cups before becoming overwhelmed by them. There was also a large amount of paint sealants and gessoes, containers being stacked upon themselves to help save on space. She even noticed a few wine bottles laying around.

She walked over to another wall, crouching down as she found a painting leaned up against it. She was at a loss for words as she let her hand trail over the piece, her eyes taking in the colors and strokes. It looked like the calm night before the storm, the sun ready to disappear at any moment. In a way, it was sort of impressionistic, abstracted to a degree.

For years, Celine had tried to achieve the look of this approach to the fullest, but always seemed to fail miserably. She could never seem to let go enough to perform properly, always catching herself smoothing the edges over with her fingertips instead of leaving things as they were to begin with. It was a habit that she had and couldn't seem to break away from. Then again, that's just how she was. In her work she liked to blend things. Layering and blending was a large part of the process in any of her works of art. She lived for the building up of colors, slowly bringing everything to the surface. That was her system. Lay down color where it needed to be, smooth the surrounding area to lighten the application of the paint, and then mold it to the desired effect. Next, she would start with the darker colors, placing them in their appropriate places while pulling parts back and applying a lighter hue. She would repeat this process over and over again until she felt she was done, before going back and leaving a light rim around things for reflective lighting.

There were so many aspects to painting that went unseen in the everyday world. Celine had always known that, which is why she always tried so hard in her work. It was a determination that her parents always appreciated, but at the same time, never fully seemed to understand.

"I see that you've managed to stumble across my studio."

The sudden voice caused her to jump and in an instant, Celine was spinning around, finding herself caught off guard as she found Jeremy standing there.

"I'm sorry, I-"

She was cut off as he rose his hand, signaling the end of her frantic explanation.

"It's alright," he assured her. "No harm done."

Slowly, he strode forward, coming to stand behind her. He had his arms folded over his chest as he stood there, seeming to take in the painting for himself for a minute, before turning to look down at her.

"What do you think?" he asked, glancing down, then back at the painting.

Celine paused for a moment as she sat on her butt, sucking in her upper lip as she stared. He had asked for her opinion. Her opinion. Why did he want her opinion of all people? After all, its not like she had really told him about her background or anything.

"Well," she started, pausing again to find a response. "Its definitely good."

"Good?" he asked, raising a brow in question. "Hopefully, that's not all that you've come to find?" he surmised.

"No," she shook her head. "You've got a good eye for detail, I'll give you that."

She turned back to the painting, eyes drifting over the horizon and toward the peek of the sun. it was like she could really see it, even with the abstraction. She could understand it. The ebb and flow of the sky line and clouds, the silver lining that always followed; she could see it all.

"You were generous in your applications as well, but not overly so as the depiction still shines through," she paused again. "You favor the half inch for a majority, using a fan brush every now and then to soften the look slightly, but only just."

Looking over, Celine found a faint smile adorning his lips, looking as though he were trying to contain a smirk at the borders of his features. He seemed to find her conclusion more acceptable than the first one she had given. Granted, the first analysis was shottie at best and deliberately placed just to get a reaction out of him.

"I didn't realize you were an artist," she confessed, leaning back on her hands.

She felt herself knock against his knees, stilling her movements as she did so. She hadn't meant for the contact, but as per usual he didn't seem to be bothered by it. Turning her head she surveyed the room again, large jars of paint lining a couple of shelves by the windows consisting of primary colors. Taking in this small piece of information, she concluded that outside of white and maybe a tiny bit of black here and there, it was all that he used. She too made use of the primary three, but still found herself using a few of the premixed cop outs. She knew that a real professional didn't rely on premixed paints, instead, starting from scratch and creating their own.

"You're more experienced than I am," she admitted, turning her eyes back to the subject in front of her.

"Come again?"

His voice was attentive, his attention having been grabbed as he assessed her words for himself. She had said that he was more experienced than her.

"You paint?" he inquired, giving her a once over with his eyes.

"I do," she nodded, confirming his thoughts.

"I'd like to see that some time."

Releasing a sigh, Celine glanced up at him, feeling inferior. She didn't know why he'd want to waste his time looking at her stuff. After all, they were on two completely different levels. Not to mention, she had no doubt he'd been painting for far longer than she had.

"You wouldn't like it," she told him, pushing herself up from the floor in order to stand. "Besides, what I do have is at the inn."

Suddenly, realization had kicked in. she hadn't checked back in with the clerk after leaving. No doubt, someone had noticed that she hadn't returned and was still waiting to pick up a slightly larger piece that had fallen from the cart after arriving at the train station the first day. She had momentarily remember that Kelly had made a comment about stopping by as well, more than likely flipping out when she hadn't answered.

"Something is wrong," he stated, taking in the expression on Celine's face.

"My stuff is still at the inn," she groaned.

~xXx~

Pacing back and forth, Celine chewed at one of her nails. This was awkward as hell for her as she stood outside of the inn. She'd lost her key in the attack that night and had no clue as to how to explain herself to the inn keeper. It wasn't as if she couldn't afford the replacement fee, but she didn't know what to tell the man. Behind her, she heard Nick clear his throat. Jeremy had asked him to accompany her in order to pick up her things.

"We going in yet?" Nick chuckled, raising a brow in question as he stepped forward.

Still unsure of herself, Celine swallowed the lump in her throat.

"What am I going to tell him?" she asked, turning to look at him.

The young Sorrentino stood several inches taller than she, a smile on his face as he fixed his jacket, before moving to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

"Just leave it to me, alright?" he smiled, before leading her toward the office.

Once inside, he went straight for the desk, Celine following along side of him. From there, he went through with explaining to the man that they had gone to the bar several nights ago for a drink. They'd celebrating having her home and some how ended up running into an angry ex thinking that Nick was now her boyfriend. The man behind the desk gave a sigh when Nick told him that it had just been a misunderstanding, but still managed to get into a fight and her purse had been sent flying upon trying to break the two men up. As a result, her things had fallen out and the key misplaced.

Giving the two a once over, the man sighed, before pulling a spare from a drawer beneath the desk. He told them to return it after they were finished and that another would be made later in the day. Before Celine could say anything though, Nick explained to the man that she would be checking out and staying with friends, paying for the replacement key as he turned and escorted her outside toward her room.

"How in the world?" she breathed out, trying to figure out where in the hell he'd managed to come up with all of that in mere seconds.

He merely told her that he was used to such things, considering that his father was the pack Beta, normally clearing up any discrepancies whenever they'd run into an unexpected travesty.

"Alrighty then," she muttered.

~xXx~

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Nick walked behind Celine, watching her as she unlocked the door to her room. He followed her inside, closing the door behind them as she walked over to the bed. She had painting supplies lying around, a canvas sitting on a small foldable easel. As he glanced around, he couldn't help, but to be reminded of his Alpha. She obviously loved to paint, having brought all of her materials with her on what was supposed to have been a short visit.

In fact, Nick felt sorry for here. Were he had been born into such a life, Celine had been bitten. She hadn't meant to be a part of their world, initially living a fairly normal life. Now, she'd have to endure the pain of the change, learning to live a completely different life. She wouldn't be able to go home, wouldn't be able to walk around normal without looking over her shoulder. The life of the pack was a commitment that meant the difference between life and death. In fact, he'd been surprised when no one had seemed to come after Elena after the turn. If possible, there were many that would seek out a female werewolf with the home of starting a new generation. In fact, that's why they were so careful with things.

Looking on, Nick found her packing her bag, pulling her clothes from the dresser draw. No doubt, she had originally planned on staying a couple of weeks. That was no longer the case though. She would pack her things and leave this world behind her, much like Elena had in the beginning, slowly packing up her life. No doubt, they'd have to make a trip to wherever she had come from, bringing her things back to Stone Haven.

"You okay principessa?" Nick asked, speaking a word of Italian out of habit as he watched her hesitate for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice soft and quiet.

He watched as she closed her suitcase, her fingers hovering over it as she took in a breath of air. She then moved around him, kneeling down pick up random tubes of paint that she'd left on the floor that night. There were tubes of red, blue, and purple. Even a heavy body white. She had all sorts of paint that he'd never bothered to look at before whenever at Stone Haven looking around at Jeremy's studio. He liked the art, but he wasn't really the artistic type like Celine or his Alpha. He left those fields of study to the professionals, sticking to reading inside or flirting with the occasional woman.

"Need some help?" he offered, tilting his head to the side as he watched her.

She paused for a moment, looking up at him before giving a faint nod. She gestured toward a small stack of paintings lays propped up against the wall by the door. Understanding immediately, he went over and grabbed them, taking them outside as he went to the car.

"This is gonna take awhile," he sighed.

Alright everyone, that was chapter 4! I hope that everyone liked it. Being an artist myself, this chapter was easier to write and connect to. I hope everyone can appreciate it as I had fun writing it. PLEASE REVIEW AND MESSAGE? I'd love to hear from everyone. What was your favorite part? What would you like to see next? Thanks everyone!