~+~ The Lady’s Apprentice ~+~

---

The Cast (in order of appearance):
Vilaesa Sunsoarer, the Silver Sunrise:
(Costume: artist)
Delicate and cold, this trill stands tall and regally with her nose held high.
Sparkling sapphire eyes peer about herself with obvious disdain while her lips
are pursed, as if amused at something unfortunate. Plumage dyed blue at the
tips, her silvery wings beat mightily behind her, giving her a slightly
impatient appearance, as they never seem to stay still. Her clothes are golden
robes of the richest silk that are cut fashionably and tailored to flatter her
curvaceous figure.

Cilellon Cloudwalker:
(costume: apprentice)
Dreamy-eyed and slightly unkempt, this young trill man wears paint-splattered
robes of soft cloth. His wings are downy white flecked with grey, and the
plumage upon his head is the white of doves. A gentle smile creases his lips as
he shuffles about in humble leather shoes. He wields a paintbrush in his hand,
which he messes with idly.

Molosee Mooneye:
(costume: sari)
She is a lean, somewhat gangly trill youth dressed in a lilac sari. Her head
feathers are a warm chestnut brown and her wings are a striking black against
her pale skin. She bites her lip in concentration and squints about her with
emerald green eyes, her feet bare and sculpting clay beneath her nails.

Minister Elee'or Sharvet:
(costume: minister)
He is a crystalline prismatic lucidian who appears sculpted as if from the
finest of sapphires. The spikes upon his head are covered neatly by a
fashionable beret, and a double-breasted silk suit fits his frame nicely. His
eyes are a cool jade that look about him with almost apathetic distaste and his
hands occasionally fidget with his cuffs.

---

Scene One:

[Stage: Studio
This studio is illuminated by the light of two magnificent windows adorned by
lush scarlet silk curtains. The walls themselves appear to be paintings: a mural
of the sky, patterned with whorls of silver hugging the clouds and gold outlines
of birds soaring freely about. Decorative screens separate numerous sculptures,
some unfinished and others polished and carved to perfection. Amethyst, quartz,
and sapphire crystals intertwine to create a mosaic mandala that proudly arches
over the domed ceiling of the room. Canvases of dazzling artwork hang upon the
walls, a desk in the corner full of artistic tools the only indication that such
beauty took any effort at all.]

The curtains part to reveal a sumptuous art studio decorated with numerous
paintings and sculptures. Overhead, the stage lights reflect off of the floors
and artwork, shadowed only by the entrance of an imposing trill woman.

Vilaesa Sunsoarer steps into the room with all the ease and grace authority and
prestige can offer. She whips a lacy fan out of her sleeve and begins to
hurriedly wave it her way until a soft breeze ruffles her plumage.

VILAESA: (In a sharp, practiced tone) Cilellon! Molosee!

With a clatter and a bang, two young trills enter, nearly falling over one
another in their haste.

CILELLON: (with an awkward bow) Yes, lady. You have need of us?

Molosee attempts to curtsey but trips and falls over her sari.

Vilaesa smirks.

VILAESA: How very droll. Yes, I have need of you, I always have need of
assistance. The life of a Master Artist is not one that comes easily - but ah! I
would not expect apprentices like you to know.

MOLOSEE: (biting her cheek to refrain from commenting) What needs doing, lady.

Vilaesa continues to fan herself, pursing her lips in thought.

VILAESA: I would think by now you'd know the answers to these questions, Miss
Mooneye. Your duties have not changed in the past few years you've spent with
me.

Moloesee bites harder on her cheek and says nothing.

CILELLON: (briskly) Shall we sweep up the studio then for my lady? I know you
prefer to work in a clean studio.

VILAESA: (thoughtful as she fans herself) The paints are out of order. How am I
to paint when the colors are all tossed about - reds with blues, greens with
yellows! Ruins the beauty of them.

CILELLON: (smiling gently) We shall tidy up and then organize them properly.

VILAESA: I should hope so. One cannot make a masterpiece within a mediocre
working space. Simply won't do.

Vilaesa taps her fan to her chin, repeating, "Simply won't do at all..."

CILELLON: Then perhaps my lady should go out and discuss the commission for the
Cultural Minister, I wouldn't expect you to deal with menial tasks such as
these.

VILAESA: I would not stay and dirty myself anyhow. Miss Mooneye's wings can
afford to lose their shine, but I am afraid I have no such luxury.

As if in response, Molosee's black wings wrap about herself protectively.

Vilaesa inclines her head politely to her apprentices before tucking away her
fan and sauntering out the door. It creaks on its hinges as she goes.

Immediately, Molosee releases a pent-up groan.

MOLOSEE: Urgh! Can you believe her!

CILELLON: (with a soft chuckle) Yes, I can.

Cilellon walks over to a sculpture and reaches to find a broom hidden behind it.
He tosses it to Molosee, who catches it nimbly.

CILELLON: I'll organize the colors, you sweep up the dust and clay?

MOLOSEE: (slumping down with a sigh) Why do we bother with her, Cilellon.
Really.

CILELLON: Because she's a Master Artist for a reason, and we have to learn
somewhere. Besides, Lady Sunsoarer is actually not so terrible.

MOLOSEE: If you mean, would I choose her over Kethuru, sure, she's not the worst
of the worst.

With an angry sweep of the broom, Molosee vents her frustration on the floor,
her wings flapping and accidentally whipping up dust. She sneezes.

CILELLON: She's just proud is all. And she has every right to be.

Molosee raises her eyebrow and lets out an indignant, "Psssh."

MOLOSEE: When's the last time she's ever produced anything worthy of Hallifax?

Cilellon's eyes sparkle in amusement.

CILELLON: Last year. The mandala. You forget so soon?

MOLOSEE: Tsch. All I remember from last year is a lot of blank canvases and
untouched blocks of clay. The two of us created more work than she did, and of
course, she ripped it apart without even explaining why.

Cilellon begins to put the bottles of paint in rows: reds, then yellows, then
oranges, all the way across the rainbow's spectrum.

CILELLON: (smiling softly) I think I've improved a lot from that. My work far
outshines what I used to produce. Why, the painting I'm doing now...

Molosee's ears perk up in interest.

MOLOSEE: You're doing a painting? I haven't seen your art in ages.

CILELLON: (While adjusting the label on a bottle) I've been practicing.

Molosee leans on the handle of the broom and listens intently.

MOLOSEE: You gonna do anything with it?

CILELLON: (Hesitating) Well, I...

Cilellon's eyes steal over to the corner of the room, and Molosee immediately
notices what he'd hoped to conceal: a painting veiled in a sheet.

MOLOSEE: (running forward) Oh, let me see!

Cilellon attempts to stop Molosee, but she wrestles out of his arms and with a
caw of delight reveals the painting for all to see.

Beautiful shades of the morning sky have been portrayed with delicate
brushstrokes that betray a gentle mastery of the brush. The pinks and blues
subtly intertwine about silvery clouds that curl about the crystal spires of
Hallifax, done in intricate detail and shaded with care. Yet the true focus of
the piece is a gorgeous woman in the center: rainbow wings extending behind her
and robes of the purest white reflecting sunlight in all directions. There's a
soft glow in her eyes, almost maternal, and her arms are outstretched to the sun
as if in greeting of the new day.

CILELLON: (stammering) It's not...done...

MOLOSEE: (gazing at the painting in wonder) Who is she?

CILELLON: I, er, I don't really know...it was supposed to be Lady Isune, but I'm
not sure it's worthy of being Her.

MOLOSEE: (inspecting the artwork closely) It's really lovely.

CILELLON: You think so?

Cilellon shuffles his feet, clearly embarrassed.

MOLOSEE: Sure it's not done, but it's way better than anything the Master has
made lately.

CILELLON: She's in a slump, is all...

MOLOSEE: (dryly) Oh yes, how dare purple be next to yellow. Tsk tsk.

Molosee ruffles Cilellon's head feathers fondly and smiles.

MOLOSEE: You're talented. Finish that artwork and do something wonderful with
it. Maybe it could even go to a gallery!

Cilellon opens his mouth to say something then pauses.

MOLOSEE: Hm?

Cilellon shakes his head, blushing.

MOLOSEE: (prodding him with the broom) You have plans for it, don't you! Master
Artist Cloudwalker.

Molosee grins impishly as Cilellon glances askance.

CILELLON: It was going to be a gift...

MOLOSEE: (fascinated) A gift? For who.

Suddenly a shrill voice echoes through the vicinity: "Cilellon, Molosee, I
expect to see a spotless studio when you are finished. And if the colors are
mismatched once more, you shall not have the use of my materials for a year."

Molosee winces.

MOLOSEE: Never mind. I'll bother you another time.

CILELLON: (mumbling) Vi..lae...

Molosee stops in her tracks, blinking.

CILELLON: (sheepishly) It's for Vilaesa Sunsoarer. She's, well, my inspiration.

MOLOSEE: (incredulous) Inspiration, huh.

Molosee spits on the floor and wipes it up dutifully.

MOLOSEE: (with a dark laugh) She inspires something, alright...

Cillelon continues sorting the paints in silence.

The curtains close, Molosee muttering under her breath as they are swallowed in
darkness, the clink of paint bottles sounding in the background.

---

Scene Two:
[Stage: Studio]

With a flourish, the curtains unfurl once more to reveal the studio in all its
splendor: clearly polished this time, all the paints in order and not a speck of
dust to be seen. Vilaesa sits here before a blank canvas thoughtfully, twirling
the paintbrush in her hands. A soft rap on the door sounds, and she rolls her
eyes.

VILAESA: Come in if you must.

Cillelon enters shyly, stooping low in a deep bow.

VILAESA: (not looking up from her canvas) What need have you of me.

CILLELON: Nothing but your time.

VILAESA: (wryly) I'm not a Sentinel. I haven't much to spare.

CILELLON: Then perhaps what I have to offer can make up for it.

Vilaesa turns in her seat, her gaze unsettling as she stares at her apprentice.

VILAESA: You have piqued my interest, continue.

CILELLON: (Gingerly reaching towards a veiled canvas in the corner) My lady, I
have long studied under your tutelage. And it has shaped me from a wretched
amateur to, perhaps, someone worthy of learning from you.

VILAESA: (dryly) No fanfare is necessary. Speak clearly.

CILELLON: (more hesitantly now) I want to give you my greatest work.

Cilellon pulls away the drape, and the painting is revealed once more - but this
time, the unfinished edges and blurs have been retouched; the figure is now not
a beautiful trill, but clearly a Divine, capturing the beauty of Lady Isune as
flawlessly as a mere mortal hand can.

Vilaesa purses her lips, gazing at the painting thoughtfully.

VILAESA: Why are you giving this to me.

CILELLON: Because you're my mentor, my idol, my...muse.

Cilellon coughs and looks away, unsure of what else to say.

VILAESA: You think I admire the work of amateurs?

CILELLON: I don't seek admiration...

VILAESA: (smirking) What? So you seek approval? Ingratiating yourself with me?

Cilellon closes his eyes and exhales.

Vilaesa walks closer to the painting, running her fingers across its edges.

VILAESA: (calculating) Your texture is unpleasant. Your color choices are
predictable. You have no real style of your own, you borrow from myself in many
aspects.

CILELLON: (quietly) I greatly admire my lady's work.

VILAESA: Yes, so I can see. You use my materials, and then use my techniques. A
perfect mimicry.

Vilaesna smiles wryly.

VILAESA: Except one work is by a Master, the other by an apprentice. And
therefore one is superior to the other.

CILELLON: Of course, as always. I don't seek to be greater than you.

VILAESA: (turning towards him) Oh? Then you never will be. That little Mooneye
girl, she aspires to more than you do. Hasn't half of your raw talent, but twice
your spirit.

Vilaesa ponders Cilellon thoughtfully, looking him up and down.

VILAESA: So you are content with your place in the Collective.

CILELLON: (gazing down at his feet) Who am I to ask for more?

Vilaesa fans her wings absently to and fro, amused.

VILAESA: Well then. Is that all.

CILELLON: (hesitating) I, er, if that's all you want.

Cilellon hides a small bouquet of freesias he'd brought in his hand, crushing it
in his palm.

VILAESA: I didn't want anything to begin with. You are free to continue your
duties now. Leave me in peace.

Looking somewhat undecided, Cilellon nods and bows once more before departing.

Vilaesa studies the painting a moment longer. The tip of her wings brushes
against it thoughtfully as she purses her lips, kneeling down to inspect a
corner of the work. She twirls the paintbrush in her hands once more, and a
strange smile creases her lips.

VILAESA: (with a laugh) The little thing's in love with me. Who ever would have
guessed.

She leans towards the artwork and the curtains close shut before her further
actions can be seen. Her haughty laugh echoes through the theater, and the
lights dim before the curtain opens once more.

---

Scene Three:
[Stage: Gallery
This long hallway is formed by an intertwining lattice of crystals: opal, beryl,
sapphire, ruby, and diamond all interlocking to create sparkling gem walls. The
floor is formed of smoothest malachite that glitters in the light of the sconces
placed above the panels of artwork to spotlight them. A scarlet carpet fringed
with gold gives this place an almost noble flair, surrounded on all sides by
fantastic sculptures and beautiful art.]

The curtains part to reveal a very different scene: that of a spacious, crystal
art gallery. Soft murmuring can be heard echoing throughout the vicinity as
onlookers admire the artwork around them, and Vileasa Sunsoarer can be seen
standing in the corner, fanning herself with a smug smile.

Minister Elee'or paces about with a slight frown on his features, his mind
calculating something rather complex.

VILAESA: (With a quick whip of her fan) Ah, Minister! How is the auction going.

ELEE'OR: Quite well, Miss Sunsoarer, quite well, assuming the pieces are up to
par. The city is in dire need of funds.

VILAESA: (lazily fanning herself) I am confident in the arts of Hallifax.

ELEE'OR: (with a sigh) I wish you could spare me some of your confidence,
Vileasa. It's been a good while since I've seen anything of yours on display,
and I confess...

VILAESA: Worrying doesn't suit you. Smile and nod, all shall be fine.

Minister Elee'or nods, but his skin continues to shift through anxious shades
and hues.

Vileasa pats him fondly and sashays off to greet the citizens who've arrived,
smiling broadly.

Out of the corner of the room, Molosee can be seen peeking through the hallway
before beckoning Cilellon to follow her. The two apprentices stare about them in
awe, drinking in the beauty of the gallery surrounding them.

MOLOSEE: (with a whistle) Would you look at this! Minister Elee'or really went
all out.

CILELLON: It's quite something, yes. I can't wait to see the rest of the
exhibit, though - I am sure it'll be fantastic!

Molosee's eyes sparkle in amusement at Cilellon.

MOLOSEE: You sound like you're intending to buy something.

CILELLON: (eyes aglow) Well, I don't have much, but part of me desperately wants
to buy my lady's work. It's been awhile since she's worked so diligently upon
anything!

Molosee rolls her eyes and drags Cilellon over to a nearby painting.

MOLOSEE: Why don't we try and find some real talent around here.

The scattered conversation and commentary rises in volume, until finally
Minister Elee'or Sharvet steps forward and clears his throat to get the
visitors' attention.

ELEE'OR: (in a clear tone) Greetings, citizens. Artists, appreciators of
culture. Thank you all for attending today's art auction, and thank you for
doing your part to assist the Collective. It is my honor as the Minister of
Cultural Affairs to host this event, and I would like to begin the bidding now
for our first portrait.

Vilaesa fans herself slowly as the covered canvas is brought in.

ELEE'OR: From our very own Sunsoarer gallery, we have a magnificent new piece
created by Vilaesa Sunsoarer, which we shall start off today's event with. If
you may remove the veil...

Vilaesa jerks her head towards Cilellon, who blinks and then hurriedly stumbles
forward to lift the sheet. It falls from the painting with a flourish, and as
the picture is displayed, short gasps echo throughout the crowd.

Cilellon stares at the painting in wonder, unable to move until Vilaesa shoves
him aside with an arrogant scoff.

MOLOSEE: (in shock) But that's...

ELEE'OR: (flushing a pleased citrine yellow) Lady Isune Painting the Dawn, a
Sunsoarer original. We'll begin the bidding at...

MOLOSEE: (gaping in wonder at Vilaesa then Cilellon) Sunsoarer...what? Wait. No.
This is wrong.

VILAESA: (scowling at Molosee) Be silent, Miss Mooneye, you have nothing useful
to add to this event.

MOLOSEE: What a coincidence, it seems neither do you.

ELEE'OR: (doing his best to ignore the squabbling) Any more takers? Ah, yes, the
gentleman in the back-

VILAESA: (fanning herself) You are making a nuisance out of yourself, my
apprentice. Be silent, let those who are higher rank than you handle such
matters.

MOLOSEE: Says someone who can't even handle her own work! My gods, how could
you!

CILELLON: (putting his hand on Molosee's shoulder) Molosee. That's enough.

Molosee turns about herself desperately, her black wings beating in agitation.

MOLOSEE: (Looking at Cilellon) It's your painting! Yours! And she's stealing it
from you, don't you care at all?

CILELLON: Molosee...

ELEE'OR: (to a member of the audience) Yes, madame, what was your bid again? Ah,
excellent.

MOLOSEE: (spitting at Vilaesa's feet) You're a fake! A pompous fake, stealing
from people too good to see you for what you really are.

VILASEA: (dryly) All these lower emotions, Miss Mooneye, they really are most
unbecoming in a lady.

CILELLON: (pleading now) Molosee, please don't...

MOLOSEE: (pointing her finger at Cillelon as she glowers at Vilaesa) Cilellon
Cloudwalker made that painting. You know this, Lady Sunsoarer, and Cilellon
knows this, so why not tell everyone here the truth. Isn't that what Hallifax is
about? Seeking truth?

Vilaesa smirks and snaps back her fan. The Minister's words have become hard to
hear over Molosee's shouting, and the crowd's attention has shifted from his
words to the debate going on behind the painting.
Walking over to Cillelon, Vilaesa puts her hand on his cheek, turning her head
slightly to speak into his ear.

VILAESA: (in a whisper loud enough for the crowd to hear) Dear little apprentice
of mine. Did you paint this masterpiece?

Cilellon looks down dutifully at the ground as Molosee gazes at him hopefully.

VILAESA: (to everyone around her now) Let's see if he lays claim to this
painting. Either I or Miss Mooneye is a liar, and it's about time the painter
himself commented, if painter he be. So tell us, dear Cilellon. Did you paint
this?

MOLOSEE: (quietly) Just tell them the truth, Cilellon.

Cilellon chews his lip and continues to stare at the ground. He shuffles from
foot to foot, the eyes of the entire crowd upon him. Even the Minister has
stopped talking, and in this deafening silence, Cilellon swallows, his mouth dry
of words.

CILELLON: (in a barely audible voice) I...no, I...

Cilellon shakes his head, and his voice comes out choked, strangled.

CILELLON: (averting his suddenly teary eyes) I could never...paint as well as my
lady. I'm... I'm just an apprentice.

Molosee covers her mouth just as a startled sob breaks out, her eyes glistening
with both hatred and pity.

MOLOSEE: (voice breaking) Cilellon, no...

Vilaesa strokes Cilellon's head almost condescendingly, whispering soothing
words in his ear.

VILAESA: It's alright, dear. Someday perhaps your work shall be displayed in a
gallery like this one.

The word 'someday' lingers upon her lips with an amused smirk, as if she's told
a joke she herself has to laugh at.

MOLOSEE: (staring at Vilaesa in wonder) Do you have no decency?

VILAESA: You are upsetting my apprentice, this crowd, and the city's event, Miss
Mooneye. I wouldn't expect you to know decency if it slapped you in your squinty
little face.

Vilaesa turns her head towards the Minister expectantly, who blinks and then
nods.

ELEE'OR: Ah, yes, quite right, quite right. Could someone please remove Miss
Mooneye from the event? She has made quite enough of a commotion already.

Two Sentinels step forward and take Molosee by the arms, who struggles at first
before sighing and slumping down in defeat.

MOLOSEE: (with a final glance at Cilellon) You deserve so much better than this.

VILAESA: (almost bored) The faster my former apprentice leaves, the faster this
event can resume. Yes, Miss Mooneye, I won't need you in my studio any longer.
Good luck finding another Master Artist as sympathetic as myself.

Cilellon says nothing as Molosee is dragged away. Vilaesa continues petting him
ingratiatingly, the Minister's voice ringing out once more.

ELEEOR: And sold! To the loboshigaru gentleman in the back.

The painting is taken down from its pedestal and handed to its new owner,
another portrait replacing it as the Minister begins the bidding for the
Silverplume exhibit.

Molosee's absence has affected no one, as the scattered chitchat and the gentle
fanning of wings echoes pleasantly in the gallery. Cilellon shuts his eyes,
unsure why exactly they have gotten so wet with grief.

VILAESA: (whispering in Cilellon's ear) You have done well, my apprentice. I am
pleased with you.

Cilellon swallows and nods, unable to speak.

VILAESA: (with a wry grin) Perhaps apprentice is the wrong word. Perhaps protege
would be more fitting. I never did like that Molosee creature anyway.

CILELLON: (stammering) I - you'll take her back, though, right? Molosee. Once
she apologizes.

Vilaesa stares at Cilellon a moment, a flicker of amusement sparkling in her
eyes. She laughs and fans herself, shaking her head, and turns her attention to
the portrait on display.

VILAESA: Oh, little Cilellon, haven't you learned? To be the greatest, one must
make sacrifices. Today's is the first of many.

Vilaesa ponders Cilellon thoughtfully, smiling enigmatically.

VILAESA: Yes, you will go far, my protege. And by the time we are done, you will
not miss a single thing you have lost.

The Minister's voice booms over the crowd, and Cilellon ducks his head, saying
nothing as the curtains close around them. The final thing that can be seen is
the silhouette of Vilaesa's hand taking Cilellon's in her own, leading him away
from the room and off to the darkness of the future ahead. The stage is covered
in shadows as the lights blow out.

END