Long raven hair, porcelain skin, and beguiling eyes sat near the door. Shrouded in a formless red wrap, he never tore his gaze from her face. Tara, at a contrast, was blushing furiously, slipping her pen from her messy bun, her own mane covering her face. Quickly scribbling on her paper, she said, "So- that is the pose for your announcement?" she asked, hesitating, her nervous hand outlining his face. "Hmm.. not quite.." Looking up, she saw Matsuo slipping his robes off his shoulder, sweeping his hair to the side. Peering over his shoulder, he asked, "Can you do this?"Her throat suddenly became dry, as she tried to speak. "R-right, then, I'll begin." The room was silent, as she concentrated on the portrait. The sun was setting quickly, she strived to finish before the room was once more black. "Almost done." she assured. Matsuo posed silently. Gingerly, touching his lips, he said, "What is your name, painter?" Shading his kimono, she said softly, "I am Tara." Matsuo repeated it silently. "Such a strange name." She said nothing, as he continued to talk. "What origin is that name, Tara? It's certainly not from here. Though it is pretty." Tara looked up, then said, "I need you to stay still." Matsuo returned to his original pose, and apologized. Almost immediately, after she responded to his change in posture, the room was once more engulfed with shadows, and it was pitch black.
Setting her pen down, she apologized, then said, "It is too dark for me to draw." Matsuo didn't reply, the room was silent. "Sir." she asked, but once more it was silent. No longer did she hear footsteps and fabric on the lacquered wood, or the low crackling of incense. "Sir." A silky cloth ran across her hand, a faint gasp escaped her lips, and a oil lamp burned brightly above her head. Matsuo stretched above her, blowing out the ignited stick used to light the lamp. Recoiling his body, he confronted her, their faces extremely close. "Can I see it?" he spoke enticingly. Looking down, she raised her notebook, a thin outline completed. His kimono covered both of him, his long fingers sifting through her hair. Tara felt a flush of crimson burn her cheeks."The Sun has gone down, Tara." he smirked. She was silent, too astounded to move. Matsuo tried to keep conversation in a soft voice, his body still overshadowing hers. "Where are you from Tara? Did you know you had an accent?" Tara nodded. "I-I'm originally from the Senki daimyo district, near Osaka, but I moved to the countryside outside of Edo." Matsuo, no longer towering her, sat next to her against the wall, his hand still entangled in her hair. "Osaka? I've never been there.. but then again, I haven't really ever left the capital." He took another glance at the notebook, then at the nervous girl. Tara gathered all her materials, then said, "Well, I should be going; I'll finish this tonight." With one slow stroke of his long sleeve, he cast the work across the room. "Do it later." he whimpered.