Don’t Touch || Damion & Cassandra
Being a sculptor meant precise precision and not a milometer under par. He licked his chapped lips that he meant to drown in chap-stick, as Damion concentrated long and hard on his artwork in front of him. It sat on his desk, looking up at him with possibility but nothing was coming to him yet.
It would be his smallest clay sculpture seeing as a majority of his work that sat in the showroom before him, were almost as big as himself. But getting the eyes right on either animal or human sculptures were the longest hurdle to jump over. Damion needed them just right to be pleased.
Right as he laid his instrument onto the piece, the bell rang that signaled the door had opened. Grunting, he closed his eyes as he realized the sound had caused him to jump and leave a large dent in the eye’s place.
He slammed his instrument down and rubbed his face, hoping this customer wasn’t staying long. Shoving his hands into his jean pockets, Damion got up from his stool and walked into the showroom to search for the customer.
The world just wasn’t giving him a break. Damion spotted the customer in front of a life-like statue of a bear on his hind legs, just about to touch the face. Sighing, he walked quickly towards the person and grabbed them by the wrist just before their fingertips touched the piece. “Can you not read the damn signs?” He growled through his teeth,”Don’t touch. You touch and break? You pay.” Damion wasn’t known to be the sweetest artist but he was widely known for his ability to create life from nothing. He would be damned if he allowed a customer get even a fingerprint on one of his popular pieces.
She was new to the town, only just crawled out of hell in search of the one that had put her there. Oh, how she couldn’t wait to show up on Magnus’ doorstep, a smile on her lips and a quip on her tongue. She’d traced him back to this little community perhaps eventually she would find him. Until that time, though, she would spend her time getting acquainted with the little shops and the town folk that inhabited the little area.
She’d spotted a little gallery and decided that would be her first stop. It was simply little shop, full of sculptures that were really rather lovely. Even she, a demon, could appreciate the artwork that was displayed for the dealer to sell. Her hand reached up to pet the brown bear but paused at the sound of the growl that slipped from who she clearly assumed was the owner, possibly the artist.
She turned blue eyes to look at him, hand still outstretched to touch the bear and smiled. She blinked once, her blue eyes turned ink black and she blinked again, the black fading back to blue. “And what,” she asked, her voice almost a dare, “are you going to do about it?”
@theivoryfish