Life as an artist was always a difficult one. The tiniest mistake could ruin- or make- a piece of art. Unpredictability and instability dominated the markets- nobody knew who would be in today, and out tomorrow- or vice versa. It took weeks, months- sometimes even years- to create perfection. However, legendary artists existed- those with the power to change the world. Italy's art scene, an especially rich and lush kaleidoscope with potent history, found endless broken artists, and the true legends of time. Only Japan's intricate history could hope to match it.
Set amid a land of artistic finery, the crown jewel Venice lured anyone who was anyone. All legends had history here, and very few made a living... Venice's especially legendary Immortal Artist, Vendetta Iceflame, possessed a remarkable talent for reading the people- which kept her relevant for decades. She created paintings form the heart- her art much darker, more intense and emotional than much of what was out there. She fought the bright and abstract grain.
But even legends needed to transcend, to make their truly timeless mark- such things were left to Fate, to the smallest moments... A clear and cool Venetian night, autumn's poly-chromatic landscape and starry skies, paired with the vibe of Venice, gave Vendetta plenty of inspiration. But what she needed were materials. Exotic, and immoral to humankind... Blood-infused paints. Inks infused with elemental energy made manifest. Magick-infused pigments, tools from rarest materials... A market for the supernatural, like her. A single place in all of Europe supplied these things- Crimson Creations, a shoppe owned by a vampyre and former artist. Vendetta sought it for weeks...
Eventually, she found it lurking down a dark alley- soft golden light drawing her, moth to a flame. A rather nondescript place, yet filled with endless wonder and beauty. Venice's best-kept secret. In the window, set atop Japanese silks, a beautiful and vivid Dragon's Blood Ink collection. Tempting, and perhaps she would acquire it this night. From within, as the door swung open, a bell rang. Icy air swept in, alongside a few crimson leaves. Standing in the doorway, the tall and pale woman glanced about. Yes, this was definitely the place she wanted to be.
~
Truly great art was like a portal into the artist's soul, experiencing their raw emotions as you took it in. It took an exceptionally gifted artist to create such pieces. Having thought himself talented enough to reach such lofty heights, Toshiro Umezawa travelled to Venice to improve his skill and learn from the best. Finding a small number of successes early on, he ended up at the mercy of the populace's ever-changing opinions. Seeing the writing on the walls, he decided to pursue a new path. Retaining a love of art, he instead channelled it into opening his own shoppe, wishing to see what new life art could take on when stepping away from the more mundane. And with the connections he had, alongside the time, he cultivated and dealt in the extremely exotic.
Countless years had passed, the shoppe doing quite well for itself- with a small but loyal customer base. Staring out the window letting his mind wander, there was something in the air in this October night. Hearing the bell ring as the door opened, the pale figure stepped out from behind the counter, adjusting the long glossy raven hair tied back. A quick glance told him that he had a new customer on his hands.
Vendetta stood just inside the door frame, scanning the store. An intricate mix of shibui and iki, chic yet timeless, Toshiro could see Vendetta's nod of approval. Edgy yet feminine, with nods to Japanese culture- truly an epitome of style. Leather and metal wrapped her upper half, a kimono-inspired jacket with asymmetrical edges, buckles and straps giving way to a darari-obi style bow at the back. Shredded skintight jeans added edge, vanishing beneath heavy, knee-high buckled leather boots with a chunky heel. Styled to perfection, raven locks framed her face just so, and classic makeup- dark red eyes and lips- balanced porcelain beauty. His eyes lingered on the jacket. Reminiscent of Japan, of home, of the night butterflies held in highest regard, for those who could claim them... She was definitely what came on the fateful winds...
Vendetta's glance followed the motion, to the man behind the counter coming around. Dark minimalist elegance himself with tied-back glossy raven hair, and simple, but well-designed clothes- definitely local make, she knew the designer even. Immaculate maroon dress shirt, classic black slacks, shined loafers- definitely local style, and a taste for the finer things in life. Why do I feel like I've known you forever... So familiar, yet unknown... What really caught her, besides his stunning emerald eyes, was the unmistakable scent on undeath on him. So the rumours are true... she mused as he walked up to her.
A smile crossed his face as his body flowed smooth, in deep Japanese-style greeting bow. Deep and elegant, the degree reserved for those of utmost respect- interesting. "Welcome to Crimson Creations, I'm it's owner Toshiro Umezawa. Is there anything I could help you find?"
Ah. So that's where she knew him from; she knew of Toshiro. Though they never crossed paths in person, they were often paired and compared- not like she minded. In fact, she was flattered for it. Vendetta could feel the tension, did he feel intimidated by her presence? She hoped not. Tonight, Vendetta was a client, nothing more- albeit a rather impressive one, if the media was to be believed... Her smile was delicate, almost shy- and exquisite.
Straightening up, he allowed himself to get a good look at his new customer, eyes widening in surprise. "You're Lady Vendetta Iceflame- it's an honour to have someone of your renown visiting my humble shoppe." Starting to feel under-dressed for such an important customer, Toshiro fidgeted a little bit.
"I am, you honour me for it." Vendetta's voice was soft-spoken, smooth and melodic. Ruby eyes glittered, as she studied Toshiro. "I remember your name, Toshiro... You were an artist yourself once, years ago. Truly a shame I never got to meet you before you stepped away from the scene- I still have a few of your works adorning my home. The art world lost a great creator. I'd wondered where you vanished to, for all those years."
To be recognized by such a prolific member of the art community was unbelievable. Further yet, to have his work in her home, Toshiro had to question if he was actually awake. It took him a moment, before he was able to compose a reply. "You honour me too much, Lady Iceflame. I found myself chasing the whims of the people, rather than painting what spoke to me. I betrayed what I felt was a core tenet of art as a whole- and had to retire out of principle."
Vendetta glanced at him, attention intently upon him as he spoke. "Disheartened as I am by this revelation, I can understand... Artistic success is a blade's edge, is it not?"
Suddenly, a switchblade appeared in her hand- gleaming bright, rather sharp... Smooth, melodic, smouldering yet seductive, her voice filled the space. "Balancing the desire to please, bending to the whims of those who admire who we are, what we create... Against following our own hearts... Remaining true to ourselves, creating what we wish- for the world to decide, how deep their desire runs..." Silken fingers danced along that deadly edge, entrancing. Just as fast, the knife snapped shut, disappearing into her sleeve.
Fear should have been his instinct. Yet he was lulled by her voice, into tranquil attraction. The light gleaming off the knife's blade drew Toshiro's gaze, moth to a flame. Watching her fingertips dancing along the blade's edge as poetic words filled the air... Only snapping out of his trance like state when the knife disappeared. Once more Toshiro bowed, as if embarrassed- perhaps ashamed- of his words. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you didn't come here to hear the ramblings of a washed up artist."
Vendetta's eyes flashed, and suddenly Toshiro felt himself pulled
upright by her, lifted by a finger under his chin. Emerald met ruby,
politeness meeting sudden fire. "I had better never hear such words from one of the artists to whom I owe my entire career and life to again."
His emerald eyes widened in shock- despite being taller, the bowed
stance and fear of pulling away forced him to look up at her. Surprised
at her sudden- and frankly, unexpected- reaction, Vendetta could see and
feel that her words struck a deep chord. Her words etched themselves
into his mind, having thought his career had just been a flash in the
pan- he didn't think that his works would've inspired anyone. "You'll never hear such words from me again, I promise you that."
If nothing else, she sure knew how to make an impression.