The night was cold and dark as Sarah ascended the steps to the gallery. Stars glittered overhead and if felt as though the air itself had a shimmer. She shivered and dug her hands into her coat pockets, thankful she had thought to wear a scarf. Under her black coat she wore a dress, a thrift shop find of dark green velvet. It had only thin straps and she didn't have a cardigan to complement it but the gallery would be warm. Sheer black tights and a pair of elegant black heels completed the look and she hoped she looked appropriately fancy.
She hadn't had a chance to see what Eliza was wearing. As the prodigy of one the gallery's artists' who would be showing work tonight, she'd headed out earlier to ensure the setup for the Professor's pieces was correct before the guests arrived. She was gone by the time Sarah was home from the salon.
They had lived together since graduating college the previous summer, having met when they had both taken jobs that intersected: Sarah as a personal assistant to the director of the gallery and Eliza as the same to one of their represented artists. Their roles were vastly different or course; Sarah spent her days on diary management and administrative tasks whereas Eliza spent hers developing her skills under the watchful eye of Professor Titan.
Sarah's new roommate had filled their small apartment and Sarah's life with her art. Paintings of magical miniature beings with jewelled wings hung on the walls of their living room. Half finished sketches of ethereal figures littered the coffee table, dangerously close to the incense sticks Eliza liked to burn. They had hung fairy lights across the ceiling, glittering white every evening; illuminating the den of magic that Eliza had made their home. There were crystals placed in odd spots around the whole apartment. A singing bowl in the bathroom. It was bizarre and magical and it seeped into Sarah's soul, to the fifteen year old who had loved all things magic, all things fairytale and romantic.
"Good evening." She greeted the woman on the doors. The gallery hired in staff for exhibition evenings and a man in a pair of black trousers and shirt offered to take her coat.
The foyer was chilled from the open doors but Sarah handed over her coat knowing the reception hall would be pleasantly warm.
There were two servers standing just inside the ornate doors of the hall with trays of champagne. She hurried through and accepted a glass, instantly relaxing as warm air hit her bare shoulders. Combined with a sip of what turned out to be a very decent champagne, she felt pleasantly comforted as she headed into the huge room.
The hall was swarming with people, the gallery space having been open a hour. Sarah had helped arrange some details of the evening but their Director, Samuel, had hired an events planner who had overseen the vast majority and so Sarah wasn't required to work this evening. She was attending for as a supportive employee and as Eliza's friend.
"Sarah! How are you?" Samuel Price, the Director of the gallery, greeted her from where he stood with a small group near the entrance.
Sarah smiled brightly at the group, everyone was a prospective customer for the gallery after all, and joined in the round of introductions.
"Sarah is my PA. Her and Eliza are both our recent graduate recruits." Samuel told the group as Sarah stood trying to exude confidence. She wondered if everyone felt this young when they first joined the working world.
A woman with short blonde hair looked interested, "Eliza? That's Professor Titan's prodigy no?"
So...not interested in the PA then. Sarah took a sip of her drink in lieu of contributing to the conversation.
Samuel nodded, "Ah yes, Eliza is Michael's assistant. She's our budding artist. We have high hopes for her."
The blonde woman raised an eyebrow, "Is that so? Well I look forward to seeing her work the future. Anyone studying under Professor Titan no doubt has a gift. We all quite eager to see his pieces tonight."
"Ah, yes, he's been somewhat circumspect on his recent work but it's been worth the wait." Samuel paused and looked at Sarah before adding, "it turns out our Sarah has provided him with a muse."
Sarah felt heat rise to her cheeks, "Oh, I'm not Professor Titan's muse. The professor just asked if he could base one of the figures on me. I didn't sit for him or anything like that." The explanation came out in an embarrassing rush. But she didn't want these people thinking she was the source of Professor Titan's inspiration.
The blonde woman gazed curiously at Sarah, "Ah, well, how wonderful to provide any reference for the Professor."
They moved onto other conversation and Sarah sipped and nodded for a few minutes before she hastily made a retreat. How embarrassing. She hoped the director wasn't going around spreading rumours she was the famous professor Titan's new muse. She was curious to go see the paintings, of course. It was exciting to have been used in even a small way for one of his paintings - he had three in this exhibition - and she wondered if she'd recognise her form, maybe even her features if he'd modelled a female figure heavily on her.
Not her hair though, she thought wryly, and reached up to feel the heavy dark locks. They hung thick and shining as always but, as of this afternoon, they stopped just above her collarbone following a visit to the salon. Sarah had had long hair her whole life but when she'd had her appointment earlier, she'd taken the plunge and cut off the length. It had looked stunning, the hair stylist had said and she'd noticed a few admiring glances from other customers but she'd felt instantly unsure. She looked more…sophisticated, maybe? Older? Experienced? Everything she was not.
Sarah moved through the small throng of guests congregating near the doors and looked around the room. The reception hall was simply a large rectangular space. Usually there would be temporary walls erected in vertical lines to present a walk-through exhibition but this time, the gallery had chosen to simply display on the three structural walls, starting at the left and working round the hall. In the centre, to finish the showing, was a small square erected from the usual temporary panels. Hidden within was the the final piece, Professor Titan's naturally, and guests were filtering in and out slowly to view the pièce de résistance.
Sarah was curious to see that one. However she'd had enough experience now to know much thought went into the arrangement of an exhibition so she'd start at the left wall, as intended, and work her way round. The Professor would have linked the three pieces together and as she likely featured in one of the other two, she may as well view the exhibition in order.
The first piece on display was a garden scene. "Frosted Winter". Faeries crept through the icy grass: small blurs of magic. It was pretty, whimsical and scenic. She checked the name, recognising the artist as a longtime painter of such scenes and popular amongst collectors of Faerie art.
"Sarah!"
Sarah turned at the sound of her name to see Eliza standing there grinning. Her red hair was pulled up in an elegant knot and she wore a pale blue suit of silky material.
"Hi." Sarah managed a smile before flushing slightly at seeing Eliza's companion.
Professor Titan was tall with sharp blue eyes that seemed to be constantly in assessment whenever he laid eyes on Sarah. Eliza had told her the Professor could be notoriously sharp with the students he taught - indeed Eliza had been one of his students who had survived said sharp tongue and been handpicked for prodigal status - but he had always been genial with Sarah. She'd only met him a handful of times but a few months ago, he asked if he could use her for one of his pieces. She'd been caught off-guard then flattered beyond belief, instantly thanking him and eagerly volunteering to sit. When he'd bemusedly told her that was not necessary, she'd flushed, assured him it was fine and hurriedly tried to cover up her embarrassment at having assumed she'd have a starring role in his painting.
"Good evening, Sarah." The Professor smiled politely but she saw the flicker of something else unnamed in the blue depths.
"Good evening, Professor." She swallowed and tried to not sound like an imbecile, "I haven't seen any of your pieces yet, I'm looking forward to it, I think everyone is." Yes, she'd nailed that simpering opener.
"Ah, well-"
"Sarah!" Eliza interrupted the Professor's response and Sarah saw the surprise in her eyes, "Your hair!"
"Oh." Sarah flushed and reach up to curl a shortened lock around her finger. "Yes, I went for the chop."
Eliza stared at her and then at the Professor, "How odd!"
Puzzled, Sarah glanced towards the Professor whose expression belied a touch of bemusement.
She opened her mouth to ask Eliza exactly what about her haircut would provoke that response when a pale flash of silvery-gold caught her eye. A figure in the crowd; there one moment, gone the next. So quickly, she could have imagined it. Yet she felt as though her heart had stopped. She turned slightly to scan where the crowd where the seen...seen what exactly?
"Sarah?" Eliza's voice cut through.
Hair forgotten, she looked back her companions, "Sorry, thought I saw someone I knew." She managed to get the words out though she barely heard them over the thumping of her heart as it resumed normal rhythm.
She felt, rather than saw, the two exchange looks though whilst she'd guess Eliza's read confusion, she wasn't so sure the Professor's would read the same.
"Anyway." She hastily indicted to the piece she had been looking at, the first piece of the exhibition, "I suppose I should view in order and I'm right at the beginning, so I better get a move on if I want to see your pieces, Professor."
The Professor mouth quirked, "Indeed. I wonder if perhaps, once you have a few more pieces under your viewing belt, I might introduce you to a few people."
"Me?" Sarah stammered.
"Yes, you. Seeing as you kindly lent me yourself for this exhibition." The Professor eyes flickered over her, resting on shoulders where dark locks faintly teased the tops of the pale skin.
Lent herself? Sarah stared at him. Did she hear that correctly.
"Of course, I took quite a bit of artistic liberty as one of my profession is wont to do." He paused, glancing at Eliza who was looking oddly between the pair of the them. "Though it appears to have worked out rather well. I do hope you are pleased."
Sarah wasn't sure what exactly the Professor was on about but she felt slightly sick all of a sudden. He was one of the exhibiting artists and she had apparently taken a bigger role than she'd anticipated in his pieces for this exhibition. But that was OK, wasn't it? The theme was a Faerie art. All things whimsical, beautiful, mythological. If he'd painted her into the image of a nymph, she'd hardly be offended. So why was her heart still beating so fast?
Unsure what to say, she was relieved when another attendee greeted the Professor. Before their eyes could alight on Sarah and potentially trap her into further conversation, she hastily gave quick smile and moved away from their position near "Frosted Winter".
She took a gulp of champagne from her glass and was surprised to find she'd drained it. Huh. Catching a server, she accepted another glass. At this rate she'd be drunk by the end of the evening. Then again, she only intended to stay an hour or two and after her conversation with the Professor she had a feeling being slightly intoxicated might be be necessary if, say, it turned out he'd painted her as a drowned sprite or something similarly mortifying.
The next three pieces were all a continuation of the same scene in the different seasons. They were calming to look at; beautiful and infused with the promise of regeneration. She dawdled awhile, making smalltalk with others viewing the same pieces.
There was a gap at end of the seasons pieces where a large panel of glass broke up the wall, offering a view out into the dimly lit dark and she lingered in that space for a few moments, just staring out into the night.
After the window, the wall resumed for a metre of so before breaking for a corridor, with a discreet sign for facilities, and then resuming to allow for two lots of artists work occupying the space down to the left corner of the room, where a small gaggle of people obscured the piece on display there from sight. Ah, that would be the Professor's first piece presumably. Yes, then the back wall would have another two artists, leading to the back right corner where the Professor's second piece would be - another telltale small group congregating there. The right wall was the remaining artists and the Professor's final piece was in the centre square, completely hidden until sought out.
Why was she so nervous about seeing the Professor's piece? Presumably because when he'd told her she needn't sit for him, needn't do anything, she assumed there wouldn't be much of her in the work, maybe just a vague impression in one of many female figures. But their conversation and, now she thought about it, the director's comments, suggested her assumption had been foolish. He'd clearly used her, which was fine, she'd given permission, but for what? How was she depicted? Was she a wandering nymph, a delicate fairy? Or was she a drowned sprite, an injured incubus?
Steeling herself, she moved passed the panelled glass, heading for the next set of paintings. She paused as several people walked in front of her, to enter the narrow corridor that led to the restrooms.
Actually, she could do with the bathroom herself after practically downing that glass of champagne. Turning into the corridor she followed through down the brightly lit route and through the door marked ladies.
A few other women were already in the bathroom forming a short queue.
After she had washed and dried her hands, she took a quick look in the mirror noting there was no make-up running. She opened her purse, extracting the slender tube and adding a touch more lipstick to replace what presumably was now decorating her first drink glass before eying herself critically. The dress was a beautiful find: the dark green velvet clung gracefully to her breasts without overemphasising them, before smoothing down over her hips and stopping just shy of her knees. She stared at her dark hair, hanging thickly in shining clumps, barely brushing the straps of her dress. She'd get used to having hair this length but for now, freshly cut, it seemed alien to her.
"Excuse me."
Sarah turned to see an older woman, dressed in a midnight blue pantsuit, smiling at her.
"You must the artist's model. I just wanted to say how beautiful you look." The woman paused, "Both in the paintings and in flesh."
Sarah startled for a moment. Paintings? Plural? She recovered when she realised the woman was staring at her expectantly. "Um. Thank you, that's really kind," she managed.
The woman nodded, satisfied, and turned away back towards the door.
Sarah breathed out, placing her hands on the counter below the mirror. Get a grip, she muttered to herself. It's just a painting. And one that's apparently attractive. Nothing to overreact at.
"Oh. I meant to say." The woman's voice came again and Sarah looked up into the mirror to see she had paused by the bathroom exit and was looking towards her.
"Who is the male model? Is he here also?"
Sarah shook her head, "I'm not sure, I'm afraid, I don't know him. The Professor saw us separately."
A male model? Another figure in the paintings, presumably.
"Ah, what a shame. He looks so unusual with the silver hair and the different-coloured eyes. Almost fae himself, if you believe in such things!"
The woman gave a short laugh, visibly amused at the suggestion, before vanishing through her door leaving a frozen Sarah staring after her in the mirror.