The First day of spring

Maya sat down by the lake an easel in front of her and a paint brush and pallet in hand. She slowly started to paint the scenery. This included a few kids scattered around enjoying the sun shine the forbidden forest and the lake. She smiled lightly as she painted going into her own little world. At first you couldn’t tell what she was painting just by looking at the paper in front of her, but soon it would start to take form. Her cat Leonardo Davinci lay by her feet taking a nap.
She wore her hair up in a messy bun with a few strands around her face. She had on a lime green leotard and a pair of black sweat pants. Both had paint splattered all over them as did her ballet slippers. Which hung out of her knap sack that sat on the other side of Leonardo, along with the flip flops she had kicked off before she sat down.

The spring weather was already making its away towards Scotland. The north had shaken off the snow and was now enjoying the growing humidity and sunlight. Elijah's senses had all but exploded when a handful of cherry blossoms drifted by him, dancing on the wind. That was what prompted him to go climbing. He'd found a large tree and was now laying on one of the branches, idly sketching out the landscape with a piece of charcoal.

Of course, when a little blonde emerged with her easel, Elijah's eyes narrowed. He sat up, dropping his down so he was straddling the branch. She was only an amateur, he scoffed mentally. She looked like a dancer dabbling in something out of her depth and the opportunity to take the michael had arisen -- Elijah wasn't going to miss out.

So, after landing on his feet having jumped out of the tree, Elijah strode over to where she was, having abandoned his own drawing by his things at the bottom of the tree. He rubbed his blackened hands over his paint-splattered jeans and looked down disdainfully at the feline slumbering by her feet.

Elijah lit a cigarette, observing her painting from behind her. He inhaled the nicotine and sighed contently before speaking lazily,

"Your hills are out of proportion."

"And who said you have to be exact when creating art?" Maya responded to the male voice behind her. He was clearly smoking but she didn't care. "Please do not drop ashes on Leonardo," She said quietly and continued painting. She moved to the sky porously leaving the hills the way the were. She understood that an artist who noticed this little imperfection it would be annoying. She thought it gave it a little different look than what one would normally see. She like it. As she painted the clouds she added her own touch by painting one that looked like a the face of her father and another one the face of her brother. She smiled slightly at the clouds before moving on.
Maya glanced back at the guy and noticed he was a year or so older than he was but she didn’t know who he was. “What brought you down to the lake?” Maya asked as she added a few flowers to the painting that where not there.

With a grimace, Elijah remembered why he hated still life. He looked down at the cat 'Leonardo' and smirked tastelessly, lifting the cigarette to his lips.

"Should have called it Salai," he murmured in reply before taking the end of the cigarette between his lips. He glared at the cat and flicked the ash away as he brought the cigarette back down. He looked at the painting once more and shuddered before looking out over the water.

"Nothing..." Elijah said distractedly, searching for the flowers that he realised just didn't exist. "How...quaint." he commented idly.

"but i always name my pets after famous dead guys," Maya smiled ," My owl is named Van Gogh," she added leaning back to look at the painting, "what do you think?" she asked looking up at Elijah. who seemed to know what he was talking about when it came to art. she felt he didn't have an imagination as wild as her own. after a while of sitting there and looking at her painting as she idly petted her cat she whispered "Nothing is ever as it seems." she felt that would be a wonderful title for the painting seeing as she had added things to the picture that weren't really there.

She was mildly creative, if not somewhat of a cliché. Elijah didn't make a point to name his pets after dead people. Then again, it was rare for him to be able to name his pets seeing as Fauve and Thierry usually did that for him. But to have an owl named Van Gogh. That was going a little bit too far. Bordering on the lines of clinical, Elijah was sure.

Elijah didn't know what to think about the painting in all honesty. He hated still life. He hated anything that didn't have a subject in it. A beautiful, beautiful subject. He saw nothing that made up his paintings, and rightly so. He didn't see the aching lust he saw in his paintings. He'd gone as far once to paint the act of passion itself and that had sold for a ridiculous amount. It had been clean and you couldn't tell unless you were specifically looked. It looked like a couple in an embrace, their lips locked and their faces pink. Everyone that looked seemed to know, though and the hubbub around it had been strangely magnificent.

"True," Elijah allowed her a point. "But usually, we are let down by what we really find."

"Your an artist i know that," Maya said, "and i get a feeling your better than I am." she was sure he had noticed what she was wearing was like that of a dancer and not an artist. "i dabble in many arts. Visual, Musical, and Performing. I don't have much time to spend on every one of them." she was sure the boy didn't care and she shrugged. "its pretty out here. Don't you think?" she asked picking up her bag to take her point shoes out of it. carefully she changed her shoes as she looked up at him. she needed to practice. she was planing on auditioning for a big role in a ballet this summer.

She was smart too. It wasn't that hard to tell that Elijah was an artist. Every article of clothing he owned was covered in paint. He let a lifestyle that wouldn't have befitted anyone else. He was quite possibly the only person that could successfully deal with such a lifestyle. He had the drive for it, the lust for it. He loved his wine, his women, his cigarettes and his art. He wanted it all. He felt that he was the only one that would be able to handle that. He was, in his own mind, the only one that would ever want to.

"You make a mistake in doing that," Elijah commented, tapping the end of his cigarette. "It is a waste of potential. Pick an art and stick to it."

Elijah raked his eyes across the landscape. He did think it was pretty but he saw much potential in it, more than could be shown in her painting. He gave a quick nod and watched as she changed into her ballet shoes. Elijah raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes and placing the cigarette between his lips. He muttered something incoherent in Parseltongue and shook his head once more.

"Just because I dabble in a few arts doesn't mean i don't concentrate more on one or the other. All the arts where introduced to me by my mother. She taught me what she could and paid for lessons for the rest. I was even home schooled, until I came here, so that I could have more time to work on my dancing, my art, and my music. Though dancing has always been more important than the others, I know enough of the others that it satisfies me thirst for color, expression, and every thing else art represents and provides for the artist. Just because you don't like my painting for what it is doesn't mean some on else won't," Maya shook her head slightly and carefully stood up. she started to dance the part of the black swan from her favorite ballet Swan Lake. She executed the moves with passion. It was clear that she wasn't trying but just dancing and having fun with it.

The dance moves where meant to seduce the audience. Like the black swan seduce the prince. Maya was pulled out of the real world by her own dancing. In her mind she really was the black swan. she was stealing the prince away from the white swan, a girl under a spell that only true love could brake. Maya was so enveloped in her mind that she forgot that she had no partner. No prince to catch her. She leaped and fell from the air. As Maya hit the ground there was an audible crack. The only thing that brought her out of her dream world was the pain. She had landed badly, "Ouch," she muttered and tried to move her leg. She wanted scream in agony but she refused and held it in. Tears came to her eyes.

Instinctively, Elijah turned his nose up at her type of dance. It was just like her painting, fabricated and emotionless. It was just there. The moves were faultless, as if she'd been practising for hours, and despite the joy she seemed to be getting from the exercise, it just looked wooden and boring. Someone had been spending too much time with an overbearing parent that wanted to live through them.

While she amused herself, Elijah took a seat in front of the painting. He put his cigarette between his lips and picked up the palette. He reached for the brush and swept it across the wood, mixing the colours. He looked out over the landscape and quickly put the brush down. He reached for a pencil and kept his eyes on her, gently sketching her out over the top of the paint. He poked the pencil behind her ear and picked up the brush.

Elijah busied himself with the painting as she danced but he soon had no choice but to stop when he heard the sickening crunch of bones snapping. Elijah flinched and looked over at the girl who had only managed an 'ouch'. He bolted from his seat immediately, discarding the palette, the brush and the cigarette as he did so.

Elijah rushed down the bank towards her and slid to the ground before her. He put one hand on her cheek and put the other on her thigh, stopping her from moving the leg that looked grossly out of place. He dropped his hand from her cheek and took her hand in his.

"Scream," he said simply, moving his hand down her leg to support the calf.