11. Titian

Seaweed strands of copper fall in a veil over the girl's soft shoulder, just above the swell of a small, high breast. Her sheer gown – nightclothes or underclothes, Gaila can't tell – has slipped, or been pulled down, to reveal flesh, but her expression is not one of seduction. There's a distance between her and the viewer as she appears lost in private thought. No wonder thinks Gaila, her wrist probably aches from holding that little bunch of flowers for hours; a small posy of white roses with one tiny primrose touching the tip of her middle finger. Since she met Sulu, she's getting better at plants. He likes a blade too.

But it was the girl's hair that drew her to the painting, so like her own; pinned in scalloped waves above her ears, the rest hanging in ripples. There's a quiet rustle as her companion bends towards the information board by the painting, and Gaila can't help looking at her fencing-partner's shapely form.

'Well, what do you know?' says Sulu. 'When she was painted, people thought she was a prostitute.' He straightens and takes a step back, to look at the canvas.

'But she's actually a Goddess.'

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Before she moves on to the next artwork, Gaila blows the girl a kiss.

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A/N: The painting is Flora, by Titian. She is in the Uffizi, in Florence.