85. Ink Stained Fingertips

Date Written: July 16, 2019

Date Posted: December 2, 2020

Characters: Veneziano, Wy

Summary: Veneziano might not have been the best art teacher ever, but he will definitely try to coax an unruly student to try new things.

Notes: Pseudo sequel to Handwritten by God (#75).


Under the bright sunlight that filtered through Veneziano's windows of his studio apartment, he and a special guest sat at a table. Together, they sat surrounded by an assortment of stationary and writing instruments, all in a matter that ranged from the most expensive to the most utilitarian. As his nimble fingers rifled through an overflowing cabinet of organized chaos, his guest spoke.

Surly and spoiled, Wy slumped against the back of her chair and muttered under her breath. Picking up on her growing discontent, Veneziano glanced at her from the corner of his periphery, a small, but fond smiling pulling up the corners of his lips.

He couldn't help but tease her a little. "Do you wish to express any grievances, cara?"

It had been so silent in the room except for the music of the wind outside that the sudden intrusion of sound had the Australian Micronation nearly falling out of her seat. Fortunately, she managed to right herself in time, seeing fit to reward her minder with a look that bordered on embarrassment and childlike fury.

"When I said I wanted an art lesson, this—" she gestured to the assortment of brush pens and fountain pens, "—was not what I had in mind." The tiny Micronation scowled as ink from her fountain pen blotched what she was trying to create. "Can't we go back to painting? This feels so…" She struggled to find the correct word before settling on, "…useless."

This time, Veneziano definitely chuckled a little under his breath as he scooted closer in his chair to have a closer look at her work. Loops and curls dominated the page in a swirl of colors and rubbed strokes. While she was definitely an unpracticed novice, there was still untapped potential just waiting to be honed. After considering her work for a few more moments, he handed her a new sheet of weighted paper and pointed at some of her work.

"Calligraphy might be antiquated," he explained, "but it is a skill that teaches you patience and attention to detail. Plus—" His lips quirked into a smile, "—Seborga said you wanted to try out new skills. You never specified which."

At the sound of Seborga's name, Wy immediately scowled and crossed her arms. While Seborga was loads less annoying than Sealand, he was still frivolous and fun loving as ever. To anyone else, they would have thought them to be positive traits, but to Wy, she thought them unnecessary and bothersome.

She scrunched up her nose and turned away from her disaster of a practice try at calligraphy. "I'm pretty sure I told him oils and pastels."

At Veneziano's soft urging, Wy tried again. She held her pen—a fountain pen this time—at the correct angle and began to let the nib glide on paper. At first, her shapes were curvy and loopy, not as elegant as the calligraphers of old, but it was a start. When Veneziano pointed that out, Wy pouted again and began to make it more… antiquated like what Veneziano had said. This time, however, catastrophe struck at the exact moment her nib met the paper.

Groaning at the little puddle of ink that pooled at the corner of her paper, she shook the fountain pen, thus splattering herself and her amused tutor. "See what I mean? I suck at this!"

"You also suck at keeping your workspace and yourself free from accidents," North Italy dryly commented. He fingered his shirt, noting the ink splatter and calculating the cost of restoring his short to its original splendor. Fortunately for him, he had worn the sort of clothing that he would have worn for painting, but it was still somewhat disheartening to note that his resident protege had knowingly swung her fountain pen around while he was in range.

Such a contrary child, he could practically hear England or Australia saying.

Italy sighed before sliding another paper towards her side of the table.

At that, Wy began to protest. "But—!"

Veneziano shook his head, his features contorting in what he hoped to be a stern, but encouraging manner.

"Every artist has to start somewhere, Wy. Just think of calligraphy as a way to explore other avenues."

Wy pouted again. She refused to write more calligraphy on pain of death.

"At the very least try once more." He gave her a tissue so that she could wipe her fingers clean. "I promise you, discipline in one area of expertise can grant you skills and habits that you can apply in other areas of art and in life."

Wy's amber eyes narrowed as she slumped over the table. Even though she was acting surly and downright rude, Veneziano couldn't help himself. Slowly, so as not startle her and to ask permission without verbally doing so, he patted her head and ruffled her locks of hair that had come out of her side ponytail. Much to his surprise, she didn't push him away or complain.

In fact, he thought that she might have relaxed under his touch.

"What if I don't believe you?"

Soft, her mumble barely reached his ears. However, due to years of practice with a variety of instruments, Veneziano managed to hear her perfectly.

Smiling gently, he nodded towards her previous attempts at calligraphy, noting how there was a gradual progression of her loops and curves slowly becoming recognizable, her letters more legible. Again, he knew that she had talent.

For some odd reason, she just couldn't see it.

"Then I'm asking as your favorite teacher in the whole wide world, that you trust me."

Wy's eyes rolled.

"You are most definitely not my favorite teacher."

Veneziano huffed a laugh, but still patted her attempts on the table in hopes that she would be coaxed into trying again.

After what seemed like an eternity of dying hope, Wy finally sighed.

"Fine." She shifted in her seat and grabbed a random brush pen to avoid further accidents. "I'll practice more."

Veneziano smiled and began critiquing her technique in earnest.