and suddenly I was a lilac sky;

[Lucienne Bellevaise]

serenity is not stillness.
● ● ● ●

but peace within a raging storm and the serendipity that can be found within the storm

    Cienne gently slid off her silk slippers, ivory in hue, reminiscent to the shoes worn by ballerinas. The Daughter of Ceres never had such a graceful poise that a ballerina could possess, nor the diligence to commit towards such a schedule as a dancer was. However, the two of them were the same in the fact that they were artists. However, Cienne found the dancers to be fascinating, whether it was the ways that their lithe bodies managed to contort and contract, swaying gently to the sounds of music that brought me spinning to the top of their feat, or the elegance possessed by such a magnificent or perhaps simplistic that could ignite inspiration in such a girl as Cienne. The beauty of art was perennial, no matter how many times such conflict would loom over, threatening to smolder the embers of inspiration with a mere swipe of his arm. Cienne found that destruction and inspiration were more alike than she had originally assumed.

    Although the vibrancy of her slippers had been dulled, the same could not be said for the white dress Lucienne Bellevais adorned, the warm hues of the morning sunrise seeming to melt over the fabrics, having not yet been tainted by the soil or grass, and Lucienne intended to keep it as such, beneath her was a plush towel, one of the multiple she had. After all, she tended to be rather grimy after a long day of training. Thankfully, Cienne wasn’t conceited enough to care, as much as it went against her femme and cultured upbringing, Cienne never minded the stains of grass and soil on her clothing that earned her reprimands during her youth. Nature was a common feature within her artwork, especially with the abundance of symbolism in which it carried.

    Lifting her canteen to the small ceramic dish besides her, Lucienne poured out a generous serving of water, before dipping a round brush into it, making a simple stroke of red on the canvas laid out on the easel. The only thing unorthodox about this was the fact that she was painting a lake. If there was anything Cienne knew, it was that colors were rarely as pure as they ever seemed. The cerulean of the lake was not just that, yet there were variations of lilac and magenta swirled in the colors, reflecting off what she saw before her. Nothing was truly pure, and colors and art was no exception to such a theory. Cienne was caught up with her painting, a rendering of a legion of ballerinas delicately spinning over the vast expanse of the lake, though the forms of all of them had yet to come into shape.

open
449 words
Cienne's first thread, i hope you enjoy!

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[Calvin Morello]

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[attr="class","beforefall"]Lucienne Bellevaise

Lumière, darling.
Lumière over me

Calvin was all rough edges and smudges of dirt and blood. After a long day of nothing but harsh training with his cohort members, he welcomed his new wounds and scratches—soon to be scars—with a generous application of hydrogen peroxide and a few bandages at the infirmary. His body was littered with memories of near-misses and brawls. Whether they faded over time or stayed with him forever, he didn’t care. He was a fighter, first and foremost, and he wore his scars and scratches like medallions. As for his soiled garments, he tossed them immediately. There was no way he was going near her smelling of blood, sweat, and dirt. So Calvin made haste in the showers, then paid a quick visit to a New Rome Café.

Now armed with two cups of hot chocolate (with a small dose of nectar in each) and a lily carefully tucked behind his ear (“Girls like flowers, right?” he mumbled to himself 30 minutes earlier, right before casting a quick plea to Aphrodite) Calvin started his path towards the lake. The weather was temperate and the flowers were in full bloom, an obvious sign that spring was present. With summer swiftly approaching, the lake’s water should be at warm, if not tolerable temperature. Maybe she’d agree to go on a quick swim? Or a canoe ride? Was she even into that kind of stuff? Cal exhaled. Lucienne was Lucienne, not a Centurion, he quickly reminded himself. She’d sooner kiss me on the cheek rather than order me to run a lap if when I screwed up.

And he was reminded that Lucienne was Lucienne when he saw her by the lake, a masterpiece dressed in white against an azure and verdant backdrop. How dangerous, he pondered, to finally have something worth losing. Truly, if the gods gave him a sky full of stars, he’d still be staring at her. Time passed and suddenly he was unsure of how long he’d been standing at the start of the clearing watching her unravel the artwork stroke-by-stroke.

Their drinks were lukewarm by the time Cal gathered the stability to approach her, deliberately with loud footsteps as not to startle her with an abrupt arrival. “Hey Lucienne,” he sang, a smile already displayed on his lips as he set the cups of cocoa on a rock. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pecked her cheek and tucked the lily behind her ear. “It looks stunning, I love it,” he noted, not particularly talking about her artwork.

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[Lucienne Bellevaise]

serenity is not stillness.
● ● ● ●

but peace within a raging storm and the serendipity that can be found within the storm

    Time seemed to melt away for Cienne. Mere minutes and seconds, what importance did they hold? Lucienne could almost imagine the world rolling in fast-forward as she painted, the rest of the Camp continuing along with their morning routine, whilst she was held in standstill, her mind occupied with her artistic endeavors. Punctuality was but a mere formality to the Daughter of Ceres, she had very few issues with her Centurions over tardiness. For the most part, Lucienne was well-mannered, though her opinions were often the type to stoke controversy amongst certain crowds. Her opinion on the Graeci was rather unfavorable, but she was lucky in that much of the Legion shared such an opinion with her against the Greeks. Cienne tended to get wrapped up in such things, and she was distracted by the strokes of her paintbrush against the canvas, that she had failed to notice that Cal had been behind her for a rather long time. There wasn’t much of an external stimuli to divert her attention towards what was going on in the world outside of the one in which she eloquently added to a milk canvas. Cienne’s attention was taken by footsteps behind her, as she turned around, met with the sight of Cal. “Aah, hello Cal”, she said, a grin spreading on her face, her eyes diverting their attention towards the cups of some sort of beverage that he had brought for the two of them. Without hesitating, Lucienne reached for her cup, lifting it to her lips.” “Thank you”, she said softly, before taking a few sips of the drink. In all honesty, the lukewarm temperature did not her ward her away from drinking more. As odd of a combination it seemed to be, the nectar flavored the hot chocolate just barely with the comely flavors of French Vanilla, straight from the Parisian ice cream parlor she visited in the summer with her aunt. Such a flavor, while typically seen as the contrast to chocolate, complimented it rather well, and the taste was comforting and delighting to Cienne.

For once in her short life, Lucienne felt safe. Tightly held in the embrace of Cal, this was what it was like for her to feel secure, a flicker of excitement present in her eyes, coursing through her veins. Lucienne curled up in Cal’s embrace, setting her head on his chest, leaning up to gently kiss his jawline after he delicately pecked her on the cheek. “Merci beaucoup, mon cheri”, Cienne said, in her native tongue of French. Surely, Cal had heard the term “mon cheri” from the French girl often, her affections for the Son of Apollo weren’t rather guarded, as she had the tendency to do towards others. With Cal, she had few reservations, the daunting rules of etiquette in which she had been forced to uphold in her wealthy French home for most of years rendered irrelevant. For once, there was someone to peer past the facade, to see the real Lucienne for who she was.

Lucienne reached a hand up to the lily in her hair, running her neatly manicured finger down it’s velvety finger. The vivid white only seemed to stand out more against the slight rosy tint that had spread around the temples of her cheeks, she truly was flattered by Cal’s generous compliments. While Lucienne was more of the cultured variety, vainness wasn’t in her nature, and while she certainly wasn't overwhelmed with such a gesture, it truly felt nice to her to feel appreciated, and she valued that in someone such as Cal. Finally, the blonde girl spoke up, her gaze going back to Cal. “You’ve been doing well, I take it? I really appreciate the gesture, it’s really early”, Cienne said, before staring out into the sunrise, leaning her head back onto Cal’s chest, a small sigh of relief releasing from her lips before she rubbed her wide blue eyes.

Calvin Morello
654 words
CALCIUM

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