Posted March 27, 2022, 2:04 p.m. by Civilian Mirembe M'Ahar (Director of Terraforming) (Trin S)
Posted by Civilian Mirembe M’Ahar (Director of Terraforming) in Art for Art’s Sake - Tag M’Ahar
Posted by Civilian Eryn Romanov (Colonial Intelligence Agent) in Art for Art’s Sake - Tag M’Ahar
Posted by Civilian Mirembe M’Ahar (Director of Terraforming) in Art for Art’s Sake - Tag M’Ahar
(snip!)
Eryn looked at the piece, “Sometimes ve must hit rock bottom in order to find vhat ve have lost. Only in strife do ve find vhat truly makes us unique.” She tilted her head looking at the piece one more time, “I like it.” Eryn took her hand and shook it. Her hand wasn’t quite as calloused but it was rough and strong. “I am Eryn Romanov. I have only recently moved to Oed. A pleasure Mirembe M’Ahar.”
Eryn Romanov“It sounds like you speak from experience,” Mirembe mused but made no gesture to pry. Folks’ experiences moulded their interpretation of a piece, but they weren’t necessary to appreciate another’s perspective. Smiling, Mirembe grasped Eryn’s hand in a hearty shake and, heartbeats later, gestured in an invitation to resume their stroll through the exhibit. “‘Mirembe’ is just fine, but the pleasure’s mine, Eryn Romanov.” M’Ahar lifted her gaze to the adjacent display, a clay structure, and leisurely approached. “What brought you to Oed?”
— Mirembe M’Ahar
“Observation of zhe vorld mostly,” was her cryptic reply. Eryn grinned as she shook Mirembe’s hand. “Zhe pleasure is mine. Please call me Eryn.” Eryn’s gaze travelled over the clay piece. It lacked firm definition, as if the artist was in no rush to force the clay to a shape or preconceived final piece. Then when the clay was finished speaking the artist left it alone. Eryn liked it. It would be a wonderful piece for a meditation room. A mysterious grin crossed her face. “An over zealous fan, damaged pieces, and a strong suggestion zo relocate by a dear friend. I have never been zo Oed, it seemed a good place zo visit.”
Eryn Romanov
Mirembe chuckled to diffuse the tension building in her chest. Though she enjoyed meeting new people, a touch of social anxiety still haunted her from her youth. “I haven’t been here long,” she admitted, “but your friend has good taste in colonies.” She turned to the clay, taking in its unfinished beauty. There was something hypnotic about its undefined twists and bends. They flowed into one another, forcing the admirer to tune out all but the piece and themself. It was almost therapeutic. “Are you an artist?” Mirembe asked with purposeful vagueness. ‘Artist’ had many connotations, and she hoped to learn more about Eryn through the one she chose.
— Mirembe M’Ahar
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