Sullied Snow Pure White [Izumi, Katori]

Now those eyes were what she wished to capture with her brush, Izumi worked fast with brush on canvas but to even try and capture those eyes and their pure unbridled expression onto her canvas was challenging. How long had it been since she got a thrill like that? A true challenge of artistic difficulty to capture this moment on canvas.

Content after a while at how she had put Katori's expression, she resumed with the rest of it. A white cascade disappearing behind her which would make a yuki-onna jealous, painting the room dimmed with nothing but candlelight. She returned to adding the pale skin which left Katori looking more like a traumatised ghost in the kimono. Add a bit of the smudging to her, the dirt on her face and chest and while it wasn't referenced on Katori's body the painter was pretty easily able to add some smudges of mud here and there.

"Hmm. Looking pretty good so far, are you still there Katori?"

In mind and spirit, not body but Izumi wasn't going to say that.

That beautiful facade was maintained as she was left to remain still, staring in Izumi's direction, through her rather than at. Her surroundings felt far less real - more a waking dream than a real scenario. She consciously kept herself in the same position, even if her mind wandered as the painting was created. This felt familiar, this all felt familiar, as much as she pushed to prove otherwise to herself. Disheveled clothing, placed on a bed, her delicate self marred and to the mercy of others.

She felt a million eyes on her, watching her, expecting of her, wanting her. The sensation of thorns brushed her skin, tugging at her, threatening to pull her and everything she was apart. Though she did not reflect on these terrifying, uncomfortable sensations with helplessness or resignation.

She hated them. She loathed them. She cursed their very existence. Ugly eyes guiding ugly hands to do ugly things with ugly desires, she wanted to tear them apart with her bare hands and feel the life slip from their accursed flesh. She felt the familiar creep of her Zanpakuto's spirit around her neck, the sickly sweet aroma of orchids touching her senses, followed by that cold, whispery voice in her ear, "Is this what you are?"



"Hmm?" She'd blink twice as she suddenly heard her name, perking up a bit in response, "Oh, apologies, I was lost in thought. Are we almost done?"

Hmm, now that was a little inspiring. The longer that this dragged out the more she felt the tension in the room. It was like Katori was being smothered by something and how better to illustrate that than to add a little flair to the picturesque sight before her.

"Almost..."

After a few more minutes she was complete and the picture before her inked into the canvas by the paint was that of the white-haired woman who looked to be in the state of undressing to settle for bed. The dim room where the only light came from the candle next to her but where it deviated was the ominous shadow that loomed over the woman. An invisible force that could vanish the moment she looked behind her to check it.

"It's complete. What do you think?"

Izumi asked while turning the painting towards Katori for her to gaze at. The portrait that captured her in this moment.

She felt that sensation of strangulation intensify, that feeling of illness resting hard on her body as every second of the sound of brush stroking felt like another eternity in a feeling she put long behind her - Shame toward her body. Though she kept her composure, every breath felt foul, every lap of cold air on her exposed skin brought back ugly memories, every glancing of Izumi brought nothing but reminders to her mind. It was almost done.. Almost there, almost there, just a few more minutes and she would have won out against her old life.

..Then Izumi called it done, turning the painting her way. The girl that peered back at her was like a ghost staring back at her, like the artist had reached through time to expose that vulnerability. Though beautiful, it was so in a sick, pitiful way to the pale woman. Her smile had entirely faded before her company, a look to her eyes not normally seen of the seated officer.

"..It's beautiful work," Rather than her normal happy tone, her voice had entirely dropped into a colder, gentle tone, "...So haunting it brings me sickness."

"Of course!"

She declared with vigour, that was the point of being an artist after all. To sway people and for them to gaze upon her works and feel. It was a sympathetic thing, a curse really, that art shall capture the world in all its beauty and ugliness and sway a person with it. It could be uplifting or it could drag a person's heart through the dirtiest of emotions.

The certainty that she spoke it to Katori said it was the latter and pleasing for Izumi to see. The fact that such a piece of work could bring the feeling of sickness to her which was just like the girl in the painting ready to be preyed upon by the unknown force of the world.

"It's quite spectacular really, your eyes were so powerful that my hand was just working by itself there! Aha, thank you for your inspiring performance."

Her pale blue eyes simply could not leave the painting as she clutched the loose kimono close to her body to cover her skin, an unreadable expression on her face that conveyed several emotions, somewhere between disgust, sadness, and questioning. It felt as if her body had become terribly heavy, barely able to keep herself upright, yet she forced herself to remain sitting up. She would not let the weight of her emotions crush her, she would not allow it, she would not be in any other's control but her own.

"I'd hardly call it a 'performance'," Her eyes hardened, as she finally appeared to settle upon an emotion to be, tears forming in her eyes as she would raise her hands who were previously concerned with hiding her marred white skin from view, them folding together to rest just on her upper chest as cold liquid feeling rolled down her face, letting out a labored chuckle, "..Even after all this time, it haunts me. It can't be satisfied staying out reach, huh?"

Raising a hand to brush one of her stray white locks from her face, she would look to Izumi, smiling softly through her sad face, "Do you have anything to drink?"

"Drink?"

She was puzzled for a moment such vices were below her pursuits of artistic beauty, even if some artists found inspiration from the sources of alcohol and substance abuse. She would not, to do so would detract from her own value.

"Water."

The artist explained while leaving her painting to sit next to Katori and run a stray finger over her model's skin. Her brush could not capture the texture of it, only allow another person to visualise and imagine it. A ghost of a sensation to touch this girl's skin instead of the real article that she was touching now.

A soft hand wiped one of her tear-streaked cheeks dry, employing a calming breathing technique in order to calm herself, quieting such thoughts as to trouble the integrity of the painting so she no longer had to acknowledge that girl anymore. Doing such irrational acts would be an irredeemable insult to the painter's work and effort, and if anything her ability to capture that sensation that sickened her so in a still art was a testament to her skill.

"Water works." She didn't appear confused or off guard that the answer wasn't anything else, if anything it was the far more responsible choice in this scenario. Her eyes finally broke from the painting as she realized Izumi's touching of her cool, light skin, eyes drawing to fix on her instead. She spoke no words, only closing her eyes and being uncertain of what to say.

Her fingers were exploratory, nails and tips running over the skin of her shoulder before the woman seemed to come out of a trance and snap back to reality. Wasn't that quite a while? People didn't stare that long very often, it meant she must've done an exquisite job.

"Well it's on the table."

She explained while cocking her head to the side and direct her attention to the jug of water and small glasses next to them. Did Katori expect the water to be brought to her or something? Izumi wasn't going to get off her spot to get her a drink, if she wanted it then it was over there.

Until she moved the artist just kept on fingering her skin like she was taking in all of its texture. Snow white.

Katori's gaze followed Izumi's directing nod to the jug and cups sitting on the table, her immediately getting to her feet, "Right. Right," She'd step over, pouring a glass for herself and coming back to sit next to Izumi, drinking it down and not stopping until the glass was empty, lowering the glass from her lips and giving out a sigh, feeling her composure returning as she drew her attention back to the artist,

"Is my skin that interesting to you?" She'd gently ask, genuinely appearing curious than sarcastic.