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Desert Butterfly has updated!!

Hello all! @loveless987 and I have been working really hard, and here we have chapter 11 all finished and pretty!! This one is a longer one, with lots and lots of fun plot stuff!

So, we both want to tell you guys that we’re getting very serious with Desert Butterfly as a story, and things are going to start rolling now. Keep an eye out for updates, we’re planning on having a monthly update from now on so stay tuned!!

Read the update here!!

Read the first chapter!!

#Desert Butterfly #Arianwen44 #loveless987 #Original Work #Original Fiction #Ruka #Evaden #Evaden/Ruka #OCs #slave fic #master/slave

So I wrote about Evaden for an English story and I need to edit it down, but it is so hard to kill your darlings. I’m putting it under this Read More if you guys want to take a look and give feedback or just enjoy it! Remember- my professor has never met Ev so where I normally would edit out extra details, she needs/likes them to understand his character. (plus Ev is not French in this bc I didn’t want to write accents and he is also very well-off, not our beloved struggling student)

Evaden spent another moment staring at the white canvas before him, rapidly bouncing his foot against the wooden stool he was perched on, before letting out a heavy sigh. He threw down his brush in frustration and it hit the newspapers below him with a wet slap, sending blue freckles all over his bare feet. But he ignored the cool touch of the paint and stood, back crackling as he straightened up, and turned away from the neglected canvas. The blank white fabric seemed to taunt him, perched empty on the easel with his colorful, swirling paintings resting beyond it against the wall, and he walked away to clear his head. As he silently padded into his tiny kitchen, Augustus lifted his fat body from Ev’s patchwork loveseat and yelled after his owner. Ev paused and lifted the overweight cat up onto the counter and ignored his loud complaints as he passed over the treat jar and moved to boil water for a cup of tea. As the kettle heated up on the stove, he rested his elbows on the counter and looked at Augustus’ annoyed face.

“Do you have any ideas, buddy?” He sighed, scratching behind the cat’s tufted ears. Ev’s signature sunny smile returned as Gus pressed his head into his paint-stained palm, and he enjoyed the sympathetic connection before his phone chirped out this week’s jazzy tone and broke the moment. Though Gus loudly protested, Evaden pulled away and opened an out of date flip phone without looking at the name.

“Bonjour, this is the artist formally known as Evaden how may I help you?” he sang, the phone almost disappearing between his large shoulder and ear as he pulled the kettle off and slipped in tea leaves. The voice on the other end laughed and Ev heard the familiar sound of nails clicking against a computer’s keyboard in the background.

“You used that opening two weeks ago, Ev. I am afraid you are getting- ah, yes, please make two more copies of that- getting a little rust,.” his agent Eliza replied, once again confusing Evaden with her ability to multitask. He couldn’t get a load of laundry done in a day if he had a dish in the sink to clean, but she was busy organizing fifty events over a manicure appointment. He thought she must be the most put-together woman in New York City. “But still a delight, as usual. I am assuming that rock of a phone hasn’t logged my three other missed calls?” she commented knowingly.

Evaden blushed and smiled bashfully even though Eliza couldn’t see him. “Oh, Liz, you know how I am with technology,” he said, leaning on his usual excuse for slacking off and pulling a mug from a crowded cabinet. “It is impossible for an old man like me.”

“Watch your mouth mister, I am three years older than you. My recent 30th felt more like a funeral march than a birthday party,” Liza snapped back, but Ev could tell she was fighting back a smile- he had that kind of effect on people. “But I have been calling because the Ticher gallery wants to host you in its upcoming artist exhibition next month. I accepted- I know you have been working diligently on your new pieces.”

“Yes, of course,” Evaden replied, eyes darting to the empty canvas he had abandoned for the fifth day in a row. As if she could see, he moved into his living room around the corner and fell into the mustard-yellow couch in the center of the room. He set his feet up on the refurbished traveling trunk he used as coffee table and sighed as Gus settled on the quilt next to him. “When do they want a preview?” he asked, raking his fingers through Gus’s thick coat and looking at the dark, wood walls around him- anywhere but his empty studio.

“In ten days, they want to see a trio to get a taste of the theme. It’s a mixed media exhibition so if you’re using your brown pallet they’ll want you next to some heinous metalwork, for example,” Liza replied. Ev could hear her sneer at the end of the sentence even if her tone was carefully maintained and even. Not only was Eliza able to do just about anything and knew everyone in the city, but she had a distinct preference for old school painting which the artist appreciated. Too many people early on in his career tried to get him out of his “overdone” medium but Ev was nothing if not stuck in his ways.

“A week? I can do that,” he said with an easy, laid-back tone. There was no need to stress out Eliza over his lack of inspiration, and he was sure something would fall into place by the time he needed the pieces ready. “Let’s get coffee sometime, yes?” he chirped, wanting to end the stressful talk of work and deadlines.

“With all my free time, of course,” Liz shot back at him but Ev could still hear the affectionate annoyance in her tone. “Till next time, Ev,” he added, and the line went dead, as Liz was not a woman with time to spare for niceties.

Evaden let his hand hover by his ear for a moment before he shut the phone and tossed it to the other end of the couch. Augustus let out a rumbling sound but seemed undisturbed when Ev rose and tugged on his worn sneakers and long camel coat.

“I’ll be back bud. There is tea out if you want it,” he tossed over his shoulder as he left the brownstone and his green door decorated with hand painted vines closed behind him.

Despite the cold weather, Ev took his time during his walk outside. He had always wanted to live in the city and even the concrete skyscrapers rising into the hazy grey sky enchanted him six years after moving here. The cold air woke him up but did not help the stupor surrounding his mind. The lingering winter still suffocated the familiar flowerbeds of his neighbors, which had always been stand-by inspiration for him and his colorful works, so he trudged through the residential streets until he hit the slightly busier cross streets of quiet cafes and artsy stores. He knew he would find something around here that would spark interest in his unusually quiet mind, but he tripped over the place before he even knew it.

He stumbled over the sandwich board of chalkboard outside the storefront and hurriedly righted it before recognizing the pastels of the building. Grey’s Gallery wasn’t made up of the staunch white halls that most of the larger galleries were, but Ev had his first collection hosted here and the quant, colorful place was special to him. He stepped in and smiled warmly at the receptionist who responded with a sharp glance and silence. Ignoring the icy welcome, he moved deeper into the gallery and happily perused the halls and their artwork. Unlike Eliza, he loved all mediums and spent just as much time studying a daisy made of screws as he did a giant mural of Pollack-esque splatters, so it took him almost half an hour to reach the back wall of the small space. Here, he saw four distinct pieces lining the wall and their clean, sharp lines drew more than a curious glance from him.

“Wow,” He whispered to himself, positioning himself in front of the large canvases and looking at them with attentive eyes. They were extremely different from his own and he had no reason to be so captivated by them. His passion was color, all swirled together and blending into one another in vibrant strokes. But these were clean, sharp angles of limited color divided by a mediating white line. The peach in one corner completely clashed with the green shade opposite it in theory, but they worked in this piece. Somehow, out of dancing watercolors and pop art sculptures around him, this one most tugged at and began to kindle his inspiration.

All the ones in the same collection were similar- clean lines, harsh angles and defined colors. The exact opposite of what Evaden not only painted but how he was. He imagined any person that created this had to be like Eliza- all cold and exact and precise- and would clash horribly with him. When Eliza first visited she spent fifteen minutes moving piles of books and journals from the ground to the bookshelves he had filled with plants. His life was all swirling bright colors and hot cups of tea and knitted sweaters and this artist must be all rules and exact measurements. Yet he felt unexplainably drawn to them- or at least, their work.

“Ma’am,” he begun, striding back to the desk at the front and smiling at the receptionist. “Who created the works in the back? The four-piece set with all the white lines?” She barely looked up from the paper she was reading but answered promptly.

“That artist submits work anonymously, but the curator seems to know them and always accepts their work. They almost always have offers to buy, but they are not for sale.” She huffed and spoke to her paper now, even though Evaden could still hear her. “I don’t t know why they do not move onto bigger galleries with how popular their work is here…”

“Thank you.” Evaden chirped and slipped outside. He was slightly disappointed at not getting a name- he felt such a draw to their work that he dreamed the person must be just as magnetic. He wandered down the street thinking of their imaginary coffee dates and park walks and deep talks. It took fifteen minutes for him to create and shape their meeting and friendship and he hit his doorstep while he mulled over whether he would sew them oven mitts for their birthday.

“Gus, get the paints ready, I got something!” He yelled into his home as he entered, kicking off his shoes and dashing to his studio. Gus remained asleep on the couch, one eye cracking open to watch his owner dash back and forth, before he rose and sat next to the paint-splattered stool. Evaden resumed his position perched on the seat, one leg drawn up and balancing a pallet of blues and purples on his knee. The brush hesitated over a bright navy before Evaden swiped it through and drew broad strokes across the left side of the canvas. It was already much neater than his previous works and he painted with growing energy as the day slipped away.

He painted in his traditional mad frenzy for almost three days straight, pausing only to answer the door for Chinese delivery and to change the jazz record playing through the home. He had stained two sweatshirts and the corner of the couch at the end of it, but he had two unique pieces he adored. They were more structured than he normally painted, with the colors more carefully measured and placed, but still had the blended and flowing effect that he could never give up.

“I can’t say if it was direct inspiration,” He began, standing next to Eliza facing the artwork in his living room with bare feet, sweatpants, and an armful of cat. “But I know that work impacted me. It was just so precise yet…gentle? I don’t know how to describe it.” He complained, turning and looking down the Eliza. Her face was unmoving, and Ev worried once again it had been frozen into place by the tight bun atop her head, but then a small smile cracked her marble visage.

“I doubted you had started anything when I called, but this is good work. I think they will like it, maybe even more than your older collection.” She added, stepping closer to the paintings. In the living room and surrounded by dark woods and worn leathers, they seemed both warmer and brighter than in the bare, empty concrete of Evaden’s working space, and she followed the barely discernable brushstrokes over the canvas in silence. She stepped back and gave Ev an approving nod and he sighed and fell back into a winged chair, Gus moving to settle into his lap the moment he hit the worn leather.

“You said it was a piece at Grey’s?” Eliza asked, turning to face him and tapping away at her phone. Ev watched her Bluetooth light up and blink before he replied.

“Yeah, in the back. Anonymous artist, unfortunately.” He replied. In the lull between his work he thought less about the paintings and more about the painter and became uncharacteristically frustrated with his fantasy. Not even having a name to the work was vexing and the mystery was one Ev wanted to solve but knew he could not.

“Well, finish up the rest and I’ll grab the three for next week.” Eliza advised, setting down her empty tea mug and tapping her Bluetooth. Digital voices started squabbling at her and Evaden waved good-bye as she smiled at him and slipped out the door. Evaden stared at his finished work and was itching to get a brush back between his fingers after just a moment of sitting down. As he stood, Gus complained loudly but the newest rotation of jazz records drowned him out.

“Is this really what I have to wear?” Evaden asked for the third time that night, and Eliza once again huffed and glared at him.

“Of course you do, you have a featured collection in a major, downtown gallery, now stop tugging at your tie and- is that more cat hair?” Eliza replied, pulling a lint-remover from nowhere and swiping it over Ev’s dark blue suit. Gus had firmly left his mark in protest of not joining Evaden at the opening, and Eliza was having none of it. Despite her reserved exterior, Evaden knew this was the biggest opening any one of her clients had been featured in and she was especially on top of things tonight.

She finished swiping away the thick white hair and nodded at Ev. “Now, go mingle and mix. There are some big names here and you should meet them.” She advised, a sliver of a smile creeping out as she shooed Evaden further into the gallery. He happily obliged, knowing fighting was useless, and wandered the bleach-white walls and pedestals to look at the art instead of talking. It was the reason he never had a taste of the big openings, as most people were here to network and he just wanted to figure out what the giant blue circle on Torshe’s pieces meant.

But he naturally ended up in front of his own work, as it took up the center room of the gallery, and those that recognized him moved to shake his hand and speak on his art. He smiled warmly, happy to hear their thoughts and feedback, and tried to convey his appreciation as best as he could in the seventy second conversations they shared. Eventually he was left to be as people dispersed throughout the place and he stared at his first piece of the collection, unable to not think of his fantasy friendship with the mysterious artist he named Green.

“This is your work, yes?” A smooth voice said next to him and Evaden jumped slightly, as he had gotten lost in thought on what Green may think of his work. He turned and looked at the other and was immediately envious- the man next to him wasn’t confined to a suit and instead wore a comfortable, emerald button down and black slacks. He came up just shy of Ev’s shoulder but stood like he was seven feet tall. His hair was well-kept in a cropped cut and Evaden ran a hand through his messy curls and slightly regretted not using the hair gel Eliza had insisted upon.

“Ah, it is. Evaden Bera.” He replied after took long a pause, offering his hand. The other man smiled and shook it, his grasp softer and slimmer than Ev’s callous, thick hands, and his dark skin swallowed by the freckled tan of Ev’s knuckles.

“Pleasure. My name is Marcus. I must say, your work is chaotic.” He responded, pulling back his hand and gesturing to the art pieces on the wall. His tone did not give away whether it was a compliment or a criticism, but Evaden smiled and laughed anyways, brightly thanking him for the comment.

“It is actually my most controlled set yet, so I can only image what you would think of my older collections.”

“Oh, I have seen your older collections. They were in the West Town’s gallery just last month, yes?”

“They were…Have you been keeping up with me as an artist? I must say, I am very flattered!”

Marcus chuckled at Evaden’s enthusiasm. “I will admit, last month was the first time I had seen your work, but it was quite captivating. All the colors just raging together and overlapping. It must take months to dry.”

“Only a week or so, but how else am I supposed to paint? I have too many ideas all flying around up here,” Evaden gestured to his head, his fingers swirling and twitching. “It is like someone who can’t write fast enough to keep up with their thoughts, so their handwriting is horrible.”

“That does make sense.” Marcus admitted, nodding to Ev and turning away from the paintings to face the other. “Though I prefer to think before I write, look before I jump. Measure before I paint. Though I will say your last collection inspired me in my latest work to try something with a bit more color and…risk.”

Evaden lit up at the words, eyes widening and smile brightening. “You are a painter? Why did you not say so earlier? Here I was worried you were some curator or reviewer I would have to tip-toe around as to not make my agent’s job any harder.”

“Eliza is the hardest working woman in art in the city, and I can see why she needs to keep you on such a short leash” Marcus replied, laughing slightly. He was still polished and buttoned-up, but Evaden believed his shoulders relaxed an inch every time he could get him to laugh. It didn’t hurt he had a dazzling smile.

“Wait, you know Eliza?” He asked, though it should not have been surprising. Eliza was at the top of her game currently and he knew every painter he met in the city at least knew her, and often was a client. “Do you work with her?”

“We are simply friends.” He replied, smiling warmly. “Speaking of- Eliza! Come over here.” Marcus called slightly over Ev’s shoulder, and Evaden turned to see the petite blonde make her way over in neat, clipped strides and place a hand on Marcus’s arm.

“Evaden,” She smiled at him, and then looked to Marcus. “I completely forgot to introduce you two, but I am glad you managed to meet Mr. Greene here on your own.”

Evaden paused, his smile faltering for a moment. In the pleasant conversation with Marcus he had forgotten his fantasy of meeting Green here by some wild chance and then dancing off into the sunset to argue about lines and paint types. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed by Marcus not being Green or embarrassed that he had forgotten about his daydream in the company of real conversation.

Eliza was still speaking as Evaden returned to earth for a moment. “Marcus here is a painter as well, and even though he refuses to employ me to work with his art-“ She stopped here to shoot him a playful glare and Marcus coyly smirked and rolled his eyes.

“And let you hock my talent like a market merchant? No thank you. It is much easier to get around the city’s art scene without being stopped every ten feet for a comment to be printed out of context the next morning.” He retorted, shooting Evaden a glance and winking. “I am sure Ev here can relate to that. These hawks just want some quote to frame their negative reviews with, and not to actually enjoy the art.”

Evaden blushed and nodded, as Marcus had taken the words from his mouth. He enjoyed having his art displayed and shared all over the city, but the critics truly were the worst part of it all. He changed the conversation, as Eliza looked like she was gearing up for an argument Ev could tell had been spat between the two many times before.

“So, there is no chance I would have seen your work then, Mr.- Marcus?” Evaden asked, staying cautiously away from his last name. He enjoyed Marcus’s company and refused to get swept away by his consuming day dreams and impossible fantasies.

“Oh, you may have.” Marcus said slyly, and Evaden failed to catch the equally cat-like grin Eliza had adopted before slipping off back into the crowd. “I am afraid you wouldn’t have enjoyed it though. My work is very calculated and measured, like I said before, and though you inspired me to stray from my monochromatic tendencies, it is still very...” Marcus searched for the right word for a moment. “Very divided. It is part of why I only have it displayed in small, boutique galleries. No one that goes to there wants to nit-pick the art. They just want to explore it for inspiration, no?”

Evaden remained silent, meeting Marcus’s gaze with a careful, considering one of his own. Whereas Marcus’s eyes felt deep and heavy with knowledge, Evaden felt somewhat awash in the waves of information. The pieces were there for him to put together, yet his brain refuted it. The coincidence was too much, the chances too unlikely. But he recalled the man’s verbiage for his work and his relationship with Eliza and thought maybe, just maybe one of his day dreams had finally touched down to reality.

“Mr. Greene,” He began, offering his arm and giving him a smooth, warm grin. “I think we have a lot to discuss. Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee at my place?”

Marcus’s smile and gaze shifted, and he slipped his hand around Ev’s bicep, falling in step with him easily. “Actually, I prefer tea. I hope that is agreeable with you.”

#evaden #out of chicago #ahhhhh i love writing but i hate editing #also this is why I have barely been on #i've been writing like this for school for the whole semester #and ya girl is DRAINED #anyways #enjoy