revelaareâ:
location: the art institute of chicago status: open @crimsonstartersâ
catriona runs her hand over the tweed chanel jacket that wraps tightly around her frame. the platinum white thread weaved between the pale blue hue match the dyed colour of her short hair, god forbid a hint of grey was ever to be found. sheâs finished ordering a young worker of the institute in french, sending him off with a flick of her hand. in the corner of her eye the matriarch catches the grey sheens of construction framework, remnants of the explosion from the vasile masquerade her family had been blamed for. but thatâs the least of the womans concern today. her associates mumble to one an other in the background, and the oâshea woman stands inert amongst the artworks hung in ornate golden frames. her long nail traces over lines scrawled within her book. âthey send me the traineesâŚâ catriona mumbles to the figure beside, with a role of her eyes.Â
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âNot a trainee, Mrs. OâShea,â Seth lets her know upon approach. He no longer works here, no â but by a strike of faith (or if you ask the Institute employees, luck), heâd been at a visit back into the studio when an intern came with a request. Lady looks angry, was all the kid let them know of what she wanted. And so, work-hours or no, Seth steps in; the familiarity with the family equal parts an advantage and hindrance now. He offers a hand, âSeth Burton Graves. Iâm a restorer and have been Richieâs teacher for some years now.â Not to mention, your familyâs go-to forger. That goes unsaid. âItâs a pleasure to meet you. Did you have any questions about the artwork?âÂ













