To be honest, I have been so caught up in reading great books with equally great music that I haven't been in a mood to write. But seeing that I have a long weekend and this idea did come to me in the middle of the night (and I started typing this in the middle of the night), I might as well just type.
Photo #51: Hold That Smile
The Schreaves were not a perfect family for many reasons: they didn't agree on everything, royal duties were sometimes a problem, and most noticeable - they didn't exactly look like a family.
Eadlyn looked like her paternal grandmother who looked nothing like her father; her mother was the only natural redhead in the family; her father was a sandy blond who had three sons with those features. Besides the boys, nobody looked related to one another. But just because none of them shared a consistent resemblance didn't make them less of a family. In fact, their different features and even personalities almost brought out the different parts of their family trees. It reminded them of the past branches that will only bring out their future leaves.
That was the interesting and surprising part of genetics that Eadlyn couldn't wrap her head around. She understood it as a game of chance, almost.
The next photo shows the family portrait being painted where they whole family is standing regal and tall, looking their absolute best. The only lie this photo presents is that they weren't the classy family this photo makes them out to be while the portrait was being painted.
-o-
As far as history goes, Illéan royals always had their portraits painted. Even with the advancements in technology such as the invention of the camera, the royal portrait was always painted. It was a classic tradition that wasn't going to be left in the past any time soon.
Today is the day the Schreaves were getting theirs done. The six of them stand tall and boldly, dressed in their best outfits looking out at the painter behind his canvas. America and Eadlyn were wearing billowing blue ballgown, and the hoys were in sharp tuxedos with complementing ties; Maxon's jacket having badges on the chest folds. In addition, the king and queen wear their crowns. America and Maxon stand in the middle of their kids: Eadlyn beside her mother and Ahren beside his father, and the youngest boys in front of them.
This should be easy for them since they have dine something similar to this for the cameras and television. All of them can stand and hold a smile but the only problem was the time period needed to capture for a camera in comparison to a paintbrush was drastically different.
"That's it," the painter says, holding his hands up to look at the family. He makes his thumb and pointer finger into a square and closes one eye to look through it. He changes the position of his hands as if it was the zoom feature on a camera. "Mow hold it."
It's silent as the painter mixes colors and paints them on the canvas in a series of strokes. The Schreaves stand still together, trying to find something to do to pass the time that doesn't involve moving a lot. All they can really do it roll their eyes up, that is, until the painter flicks his brush at them. So in reality, there's nothing they can do but just stand there.
It's possible for one to stand, but to stand completely still for hours? Impossible.
"Mom..." Eadlyn grits through her teeth. "My cheeks hurt from all this smiling."
"How can it hurt when it's fake?" America mutters back without moving her head.
Eadlyn narrows her eyes at her mom's attitude but returns them back to normal when the painter shoots her a look. She takes a breath before forcing herself to return to the insignificant smile she hates to have on her face.
In the distance, Eadlyn hears someone walking in the hallway. She sees Kile walking by while munching an apple. He looks into the room and laugh, directly at Eadlyn.
"That's the longest time I've seen you smile," Kile says from the doorway, laughing loudly as he marches off.
Despite getting scolded again from the painter, Eadlyn takes the chance to roll her eyes to herself (aimed at Kile). What she wants to do right now is run free from the portrait and chuck that apple at his head as if it was a baseball. Eadlyn knows that even though her mother isn't looking at her, she's being scolded by the angry vibes she feels and will most likely get lectured later.
"My back hurts," Ahren mutters.
When the painter seems to be more focused on the canvas than them, Ahren stretches back and hears his body crack in a way that sounded almost painful. Eadlyn stifles a laugh as his mother sighs.
"Being hunched over your desk for numerous hours straight while writing love letters does that to your back after a while," Maxon says to him, barely moving.
"You're one to talk," Ahren mutters back.
"What I'm doing is much more important for the country than dotting your i's with hearts."
"That's debatable."
"You two shut it right now!" America whisper-screams at the two of them.
America takes a sharp breath underneath the sound of mumbled apologies. All of them were silent. The only noise that could be heard were the soft strokes of a paintbrush against a canvas. America starts humming a song as the others imagine a matching scenario to the tune which only takes thirty seconds of their time.
"Mom, my suit is tight and itchy," Kaden suddenly complains.
"Don't worry, baby," America says, sneaking a hand to rub one of his shoulders. "It'll be over soon."
"But it just started."
"I know." America takes a breath, knowing that there was no point to being comforting in this uncomfortable situation.
"Can I just step out and change my clothes?" Kaden asks. "I doubt I'm even on the canvas yet. Can I just wear my pajamas and be painted in a tuxedo."
"Kaden..." America mutters bitterly, barely moving her mouth.
"Sorry."
America rubs his shoulder again as the silence returns. Everyone breathes, some breaths heavier than others due to annoyance or boredom mixed with fatigue.
"I have to pee," Osten states.
Maxon sighs. "I told you to go before we got here."
"I did go...but then I had some iced tea and now I have to go again."
Maxon doesn't even bother responding at this point. He's just given up with his kids at the moment and wish this portrait would just be done with. He can tell America has given up as well since she has nothing to say to Osten. The two parents glance at each other through their peripheral visions.
"How long has it been?" America asks Maxon.
Maxon huffs a sharp breath. "Barely ten minutes."
America thinks of a few curse words but doesn't say them aloud. Her and Maxon will be fine to stand in each other's presence till the end of time. Their kids, however, are bored and fidgety. Eadlyn has started to pick the seams at the back of her dress, Ahren stared at the painter and decided to count the number of lines on his face, and Kaden and Osten have started making funny faces at each other despite America and Maxon nudging them to stop.
To the kids, their studies were starting to seem more amusing than this. Maxon thinks the same except with his paperwork.
After what feels like an hour even though it's only been five minutes, Marlee quietly walks in the room. She looks at the portrait in-progress and takes a glance at the models. They keep on poking at each other, trying their absolute bests not to move drastically; their faces try to remain happy and professional even though they're all tired and angry; but all return to normal in seconds.
Marlee, with Maxon's camera around her neck, raises the device to her eye and snaps a photo of the family. Just in case the portrait wouldn't be complete because of their restlessness, at least they'll have something on the camera roll to frame.
This is literally me except with school photos.
Stay Tuned - time for a jam session and the appearance of an old face.
