Gallows of Transgression (ON HIATUS)

e l e v e n

Pushing a few strands behind her ear, Remi stood and smiled at her cousin. He followed suit, standing as well. "Thanks, Soren. I really appreciate this."

Soren raised a blond eyebrow as he reached back behind his head to tighten his bandana. "You don't need to thank me. I'm here for you. Always."

Beaming up at him, she nodded once. "Thanks. I . . . think I'm ready to go back out now. I've been hearing Uncle banging on the door for a while now. I'm sure the door is considering just giving up and falling off its hinges at this point." 

Soren winked at her. "This room is my secret weapon. I strategically set it up so the image on the canvas is the first thing one sees upon entering. Father figured that out one fateful afternoon a couple years ago and has refused to enter since."

Bang bang, bang bang.

"Smart," Remi replied with a light chuckle, feeling her heart beginning to beat normally once again. The overwhelming emotion that had come over her as she cried was beginning to go away, and she was starting to feel more like herself.

Soren smirked back, before reaching up to cover his mouth with long, tanned fingers as he yawned. "Though, personally, I think my paintings look magnificent, despite my father's disapproval. This past year I've been really getting into modelling for artists, more so than ever before. I want to look my best, so I've been outside nearly all hours of the day in order to get a tan, and working out whenever I have the spare time. I even began brushing my teeth with charcoal, and they've been getting whiter, I think."

"Impressive," Remi replied with a teasing grin. "Though I have to say, you're far more worried about your appearance than I am, and I'm a girl."

"True, but you're not a nude model," he countered back light heartedly, grinning down at her. "There's a lot more pressure to look a certain way. Though, I don't really mind. I really enjoy it—well, not all the hours of sitting still, but the final product, of course. The fruits of my labor, displayed in the homes of the wealthy and privileged, and the glasses of important events."

Bang bang, bang bang.

"More like the fruits of my labour," Dremmie interrupted as she walked back in the room, dragging a new step ladder behind her. It was shinier than what she'd been using, and probably much newer. "You simply lay there and do nothing while I do all the hard, meticulous work at look at your nasty old man body."

Soren pressed his lips into a thin line. "Oh come on, you don't know the horrors of your body parts falling asleep or fighting against muscle cramps and a stiff neck or back. And I'm not an old man!"

"Boo-hoo," the young painter replied mockingly, moving the old ladder to the side of the room. "You're so hard done by."

Remi couldn't help but stare at Dremmie, scrutinizing her. Wasn't she a little too young to be seeing and painting nude bodies? And, being that dainty and pretty, she was sure to attract unwanted attention. Didn't she have any bodyguards to protect her in case someone tried to hurt or take advantage of her?

Bang bang, bang bang.

Remi furrowed her strawberry-coloured brows. Who was this girl? A mere lower class artist or slave wouldn't dress like her or speak to Soren as she does, bantering back and forth. Though, if she was to be honest with herself, Remi actually found their bantering quite amusing to listen to.

"You're wondering who she is," Soren chuckled to himself.

Remi snapped her eyes up to his in surprise. He always seemed to know what she was thinking. It was both reassuring and disconcerting. How was he always able to do that?