***Author's note: Happy Holidays! I apologize for not posting last weekend. As a holiday gift and apology, I am posting three chapters today! :) Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. I know it's long lol. Speaking of which, after talking with my beta reader and looking over the feedback you all gave, we've decided that we're going to end Book One part way into Winter Break. Otherwise, this will be REALLY long, and I don't want to intimidate any potential new readers. Trust me, it's a natural end point and Book Two will pick up right where it left off.***

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

…

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

He could do this. He could do this.

Not for the first time he found himself standing outside Maurice Hall. Earlier he saw Mal go inside and wherever one of the VK's was, there was always another, and based on previous experience, Mal and Evie were the only ones likely to be using the crafting rooms.

He went to the textiles floor first, hoping that Evie would be in there working on her seemingly endless clothing projects. What was wrong with the clothes they'd been offered when they first arrived from the Isle, he didn't know, but clearly they found them lacking. Was it just the styling? Or perhaps they were simply accustomed to making their own clothes? Maybe they found them uncomfortable? They did wear the clothes Ben provided for them occasionally, but it was becoming less and less common. Of course there was always the chance he was overthinking this as he did most things.

Unfortunately, Evie was not anywhere to be found in the textiles area, but it was possible she was just working on her designs in the art studio area with Mal. Not ideal, but he could tolerate some discomfort for the chance to spend time with Evie. Mal was just so brash, and he didn't know how to handle that. Despite growing up with his rowdier cousins, many of whom came from Grumpy's branch of the family, he never really learned how to. More often than not, he would choose to retreat to a quieter corner and avoid them, something about them rubbing him the wrong way after long periods of time.

Entering the room, it was easy to spot Mal's bright purple hair, but he couldn't see Evie's deep ocean blue hair beside her. Maybe she was just in the bathroom? Should he wait or ask Mal where she was? No. Waiting would be more awkward, and a little creepy. It would be better to ask Mal directly and hope she was in a good mood. Well, she never truly seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps tolerant was a better way to phrase it…He was stalling. Again.

Taking a deep breath, he walked over to where Mal sat and cleared his throat.

Grey eyes flicked up and he watched her glance around before looking back at him. "Do you want something?" Mal asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I was…I was looking for Evie. She wasn't on the floor dedicated to textiles and sewing, so I came to see if she was here with you."

"Right…Well she isn't here," Mal informed him.

"Oh, yes, of course. I suppose I'll just…" He trailed off, cheeks burning under the VK's unimpressed stare. Unable to meet her eyes, Doug found his gaze drifting to the canvas behind her. Stretching across the canvas was a complex network of lines and shapes, shaded and clear, and just beyond her easel was a window overlooking the campus grounds. The image on the canvas lined up perfectly with the view from the window. The lines were sharp and smooth in all the right places, and the shadows fell just right to mirror the midafternoon light. If it weren't for the lack of colors, and its incomplete status, Doug almost felt he could walk right into the scene.

"Your work… is amazing," he said, staring at the canvas. "It looks so real."

"Thanks?" With a faint frown, Mal glanced between him and the door, as if she wasn't sure what to do with him. "It's just a sketch really."

"You're remarkably talented. The way the lines flow across the page and how you used the shading to give texture and depth to the scene is extraordinary."

"I didn't know you like art," Mal said after a moment. Grey eyes studied him, holding his gaze and it was all he could do not to break eye contact. The VKs admired strength. He wasn't strong, but he could at least try to seem confident. "You don't really seem like the type."

"It's true I often prefer to spend my time with things like business and sciences, but as a dwarf-kin I still have a strong appreciation for the finer arts. Things of beauty are still quite enjoyable." Turning back to the canvas, grateful for the excuse to look away, he added, "Your style reminds me of Alek Tempest."

"Alek Tempest?"

"They're famous for their charcoal drawings. They'd sketch incredibly detailed portraits and landscapes, all in black charcoal. You use similar shading techniques as they do to make your images come to life."

"All black huh? Even when they had access to all the colors in the world," Mal snorted quietly, jaw tight. "How pretentious."

"Actually," Doug started and when Mal shot him a glare, he swallowed hard, "actually they didn't like to use color. They said color would hide the reality of the world they were drawing. You see, they never made anything pure black or left anything purely white. Especially in portraits." Mal arched an eyebrow, but said nothing and he took that as permission to continue. "No one is just one shade of color. There is no empty darkness and there is no full light. Everything is more than what it seems. That philos-That belief is why I admire their work. It helped inspire me to look beyond the surface."

Doug hoped he got that right. Performing under pressure wasn't one of his strong suits and Mal's gaze was particularly heavy. It was also much better to not call it a philosophy even if that was more accurate; she wouldn't appreciate that in the least. Besides, it was something he was still learning to do correctly, and enough. Some preconceptions still lingered and he often relied on Ben or Lonnie to remind him that he didn't understand everything. Doug didn't want to blame his father or heritage for his mistakes, but his father could be prone to very impulsive behavior and being a dwarf made it just that much harder to get himself out of a rut. Two things that he very dearly didn't want to do yet sometimes did. However, he was improving, and the VKs were giving him even more incentive than he'd had before.

The daughter of Maleficent hummed low in her throat as she stared at her drawing, fingers tapping lightly against her chin. "Alek Tempest," she muttered. After a moment, her attention returned to Doug and he swallowed under her gaze. "What other artists do you like?"