If one would have asked Imma who she was most terrified of they might be surprised to find that her response would be a member of her own family. Fotios had been a figurehead for the Leventi family for as long as Imma could recall. Which meant that he above all others had complete control over her life and how it might unfold. Thankfully for the most part she only witnessed his influence secondhand. The fact was that she found herself in the sweetest position possible as she was just young enough and far enough removed that she was relatively overlooked. It likely didn’t hurt matters either that she’d always been relatively quiet and until puberty hadn’t been much to look at. Time of course was catching up with her however and it was really only a matter of time before her perceived freedom became a distant memory.
With what remained of her childhood hanging from a delicate thread there was no telling just what had possessed her to seek out her Uncle’s company. Theoretically speaking she should have been doing everything in her power to avoid him and yet there she was setting up her easel within his office. Shifting it just so as to capture the most light for her while managing to avoid blocking her line of sight. Once she had that figured out she set up a small table with a collection of materials. Things she would need to actually work. Clean water, parsels of fabric, a blending board, brushes, oil, and most importantly pigments. Everything was set up quietly, managing to avoid any intrusive noise that would disturb him from his work.
That had been the only way that she’d managed to get him to agree to this in the first place. He had little intention to sit around and do nothing, least of all with so much to work to go over. It was actually a shock when he’d agreed to let her paint him at all given just how truly busy he was. The caveat of course was that he wouldn’t be still while she was painting him. It would be a challenge but one she was actually pretty excited about. Most living subjects didn’t remain still anyway. Even models who were hired to remain in one consistent pose moved. Sometimes the small movements were worse than those that came with general activity. They were easier to miss and could throw off an entire piece. In this way she would have to rely on what she knew of form and function while applying it to his distinct features.
First things first, she’d have to sketch out a generalized pose and start outlining the basics. Picking up her lead she put it to canvas and began etching out his shape. Peeking around the edge of the easel to watch him and take in the overall size of him in comparison to the things around him. Building an environment that would better suit the grandeur of a portrait than an office. Though to be fair painting him behind a desk seemed as though it would be more realistic. Realism had very little to do with portraits though, least of all portraits of great men. They were always featured in splendor and opulence. If they were too be captured for all time then they wished to be recalled in awe and wonder.
As she continued to peer in upon him repeatedly she began to consider just how truly terrifying he was. Aside from the fact that he held her potential happiness in her hands, Imma wasn’t all that sure she knew much about her uncle. They hadn’t had all that much time to interact so she really didn’t have much of an opinion to speak of. At least not one that seemed all that fair. Fotios had not done anything especially cruel to her or her sisters that she knew of, so perhaps her insecurities were misplaced? There really only was one way to figure that out. The problem was that she was rather terrified of making a pest of herself and being sent out when she’d vied so hard for the opportunity to do this painting in the first place.
On one hand if she did find her voice and attempt to build some form of relationship with her uncle it might benefit her in the long run. On the other hand she could risk losing what little she had. It really boiled down to what mattered more to her. A painting or a relationship with a member of her family. Glancing at the sketch she had already well underway she furrowed her brow and silently balked at herself before she addressed him. “Thank you, Uncle Fotios, for allowing me to do this.” It was the best way she could think to start a conversation with him. Hopefully it would give her some sort of idea as to whether or not she could truly wade into deeper topics. Though she doubted leaving it at that would give her much information at all. What she needed was a nice safe topic to discuss that would not heckle his ire.
Unfortunately there were not many safe topics to be had at the moment. With Stephanos and Olympia under house arrest she couldn’t exactly talk about the soon to be arrival of their heir. Which should have otherwise been a happy and blessed occasion. The arrival of the Egyptians from what she understood was a precarious attempt to avoid altercation, which certainly did not seem like the sort of thing to discuss. Not that he would with her anyway. So what then was she supposed to talk to him about? Frustrated with her inability to produce a suitable conversation she found herself migrating around to one that might be viable. “Uncle Fotios, may I ask for your advice?” If he was truly open to the prospect of interaction then she would have her answer and if not then she could simply go back to working quietly on the painting. Either way she would remain relatively content. As always seemed to be the way where she was concerned.
The entire event had been organised with little thought on Fotios' part. He was well aware that his youngest niece was a lover of art and enjoyed painting. There was little that happened and developed in the Leventi family or with its members that he was not fully informed upon. Similarly, he had known for some time that the young girl enjoyed painting people - her family members in particular. By the time Imma had been old and brave enough to voice her desire to paint her uncle, Fotios was fairly certain he was probably the only relative within her immediate family that Imma had yet to immortalise on canvas. Whether this was a good thing or not, Fotios had yet to know as he had never really gone out of his way to inspect Imma's work previously. When the request had come that Imma would like to capture the visage of the Head of the House - a message passed through Evelli - Fotios had made only a single stipulation. Imma could do what she wanted in the hopes and plans for painting him. But he would not be sitting still for such a practice. Nor would he pose or change his day by one moment in order to accommodate her hobby. If she wished to paint, she could do so with the eye of an artist who could work around their subjects being in motion. There were many who had completed such a talent and Fotios was only too happy to help encourage that same level of skill in the young girl.
As such to their agreement, Imma was shown into his study that afternoon by a servant and the girl - clearly nervous not to disturb him in some way - barely gave a greeting that he offered a modest and polite reply to - before she was setting up her things ready for an afternoon of artistry. A little side table had been produced for her use, where she lined up her implements. An easel she easily erected and positioned in the right place. A chair had been placed to one side in case she wanted it, as he did not know whether she preferred to paint sitting or standing. And while a few changes had been made to the room to accommodate her visit, Fotios himself did not change at all. He continued to work at his desk as she set up, writing on parchment, carving into thin clay tablets that he set to one side in order to be blown hot later that day. He tallied the finances of the provinces and worked through the administrative side of his job as Head of the Leventi House. He gave Imma little to no attention as she began her work.
When her voice broke the silence however, a momentary passing of gratitude for allowing her the time and space to seek out a new portrait subject, Fotios glanced up at the little blonde from where he was tallying columns of information. He glanced back at his work and continued with the information, as he replied.
"It is of no moment." He told her, in a light and distracted tone that was far from his usual frightening defiance. "A young lady should be versed in many skills. Art can easily be one of them. And if my presence helps you to become more skilled in your craft..." He pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. "Then I have no objection to you sitting there while I work."
Silence fell between them again for a little while, broken only by Imma's next query. This time, her words fell on a moment when Fotios had finished the particular task he was completing. He glanced up at her as he selected the drying sand and sprinkled it over the ink on his paperwork and then, upon being assured that it was dry, he shook out the excess sand took up the edge of the parchment and began to roll it into a cylinder to be kept secure. The leather strings that were attached to it, it tied into place as she broached the query of starting a conversation.
Standing up, Fotios moved to replace the rolled sheet away on a shelf and then moved to stand by the side table that supported several bottles of wine, a jug of water and two goblets. He filled the first chalice with wine and the second with water. He took the first in his own hand and indicated the second to the girl should she want it, before he returned to his desk. He responded to her query as he settled himself back into his chair, clearly happy to take a break from his work to sup from his wine for a moment. He waved a hand in gesture to her, his legs stretching out in front of him as he laid back a little more comfortably.
"Better to ask advice than to strive forwards and make ignorant choices." He told her, with that same light tone. He nodded with the uplift of his chin. "Speak."
There were few times in a person’s life where they could truly rationalize what it might feel like to be an inferior beast. Many often considered what the threat of a hunter may be life if they were a doe or stag, but it was rare that they belittle themselves much further than that. As her uncle looked up and pegged her with his icy eyes, however, Imma couldn’t imagine herself as much more than a hare. A spritely but slight thing that had just happened to tease his gaze from its task long enough for acknowledgment but not so long as to require focus. A mere touch before it was on its way again, redirected to what was truly important. It was enough of course to make her breath catch and her heart quicken, but it was still just a second. When he spoke she found herself inhaling once more, allowing the air to pass in silent relief.
What was said in initiation had been where she’d expected his response to remain. Dismissing the consequential state of her presence. So long as she didn’t get in the way then why would it really matter? What she had not been anticipating was the acknowledgement of validity of her skills. Not that he really complimented her by any stretch of the imagination, but he did at least believe that art could have its benefits. That in and of itself made her smile. A truly genuine smile at that. The sort that managed to brighten her features and strip the weight from her delicate shoulders. It made it almost easier to work knowing that he might actually enjoy the end result. If nothing else if she did well he might even be impressed. It may have been a long shot but it was one that she was rather excited to try for.
Armed with a newfound vigor to do well she focused particularly hard upon getting everything staged correctly on the canvas. Then she inched herself on her seat enough that she could really look at him. Concentrating upon his features with a scrutinizing depth that would be rather inappropriate if she was not painting him. It was too intense a stare and could even be unnerving if it did not have a purpose. Imma was being incredibly diligent to ensure she had every last detail of his countenance etched into memory. The finer details of course would not be sketched, they would be painted, but it did help to setup the angulation and structure. Those things she could ready before she began actually applying paint to the canvas. Once through she turned and looked at the pigments on hand, gathering a base hue to begin with she opened the container and deposited some of it upon the palette.
As he gathered a drink for himself she picked up an oil knife and began to mix the pigment with a bit of oil, building a paint to begin her work. Ever aware of her surroundings she let her eyes move freely from the task at hand to her uncle. Watching the way he moved during even the most remedial of tasks. The smile she bore curled just a bit further as he gestured to the goblet, acknowledging the gesture in a quiet but obvious manner. Gratitude did not necessarily need to be spoken, least of all when you were as expressive as she was. There was not much that one could not see in her expression - which could be both a blessing and a curse. With her uncle it was a bit more a blessing that she could not hide much. The same could not necessarily be said with people outside of her family.
When he explained his opinion of her question she found her smile unwavering. While she might have been nervous he did not seem put off by her desire for his advice. Which once again lead her to believe that he was not quite as villainous as she might have believed in her youth. Pausing for a moment she laid the knife down so that the quiet scratching sound against the sandstone palette would not take away from her question. Tilting her head for a moment she considered how best to phrase her question. As she settled on her choice of words she leveled her chin and addressed him with her conundrum. “With my debut approaching I found myself often wondering about interactions…” Pausing she gently shook her head before correcting the term. “Conversations. I have found myself considering conversations with men.”
Setting the tablet down she stood from her seat, running her hands down the surface of her chiton. It was not so fine a piece as she might normally wear, but she had worn a rather plain choice to avoid ruining something finer in the midst of her painting. Making her way toward the goblet of water she picked it up within both hands, cupping it at her waist for a moment as she clarified just what had been troubling her. “I have many sisters and a very involved mother, but they are all women. My father is perhaps too close to the situation to really be of much aid. I want to know from the perspective of a man… what conversation do you find truly stimulating? Enough so to warrant interest. What should I verse myself in to be truly worth speaking to. If I am not the most beautiful woman in the room I want to have some skill at my disposal that does make me equally as appealing.”
Fotios wasn't the friendliest of people and many found him to be unsettling and... sly in his mannerisms. But one of the additional elements of his countenance that had people feeling decidedly awkward in his presence at times was the fact that he was devout and careful listener. Sometimes he did it by not looking at the speaker - eavesdropping for secrecy or feigning a lack of interest in the other party as they spoke were tools in and of themselves - but if there was no such need, he watched those he communicated with, with a stare of intent listening. And this wasn't always the most comfortable of experiences for they standing on the other side of the conversation.
When Imma first began speaking, broaching the topic of conversation of men and how to interact with them in a public forum, Fotios began with watching her with that same level of focus. When she paused and halted in her words, he adjusted, not wanting to scare her off of talking to him as he was not yet sure if what she had to say would be of use to him. A man in Fotios' position - where knowledge was power and wisdom was might - you could not decide if something was relevant or of interest until it was heard. Whenever he sensed her becoming jolting in her speech or drawing hesitation in her language, he turned his gaze away: sipped from his wine cup, repositioned his feet stretched out before him, adjusted an item on the surface of his desk. His overall demeanour was one of listening but being entirely casual upon the entire subject.
When his youngest niece was finished detailing her problem, Fotios was quiet for a little while. He rolled the wine in his mouth and over his tongue, he licked a little at the corner of his mouth and he set his cup upon the wooden plateau before him and ran the tip of his index finger around the circumference of its lip. He appeared to have all the time in the world to consider her query...
"It would depend on the sort of interaction you were seeking with the man in question, Imma." He told her, considering the possibilities for her answer. She was the first of the Leventi girls to seek his direct advice, specifically regarding the males of the Taengean court and interaction thereof. Her answer would decide in his mind whether she might grow into someone of use. Was she seeking his advice because she simply wanted to woo a rich man for her own ego, flattery and perceived happiness? Or was she actually interested in maintaining some kind of power within the court. "Simple attention isn't enough." He told her. "What would you propose to do with their attention once you had it. Once the eye and ear were drawn to what you offer, what would be your eventual interest in the man. Bait - be it political, social or based in conversation is always more effective when adapted to the end goal." His eyes narrowed with shrewdness, his wicked intelligence shining through...
Observation had never really been the sort of thing that Imma was particularly used to. At least when it came to being on the receiving end. Much of her life had been spent watching others but she was not altogether used to being studied. The way her uncle watched her was an abnormality for her but it was not entirely uncomfortable either. If he had perhaps been a different man with different motivations for his gaze then it might have made her squirm. As it was she seemed relatively unphased by his eyes or how penetrating they might be at any given moment. What truly through her off or made her cadence shift was her own inability to voice her question in a manner that satisfied her. Imma wanted truly to be able to convey what she wanted to know but she wasn’t entirely sure if she was clear or not.
As she finished she waited and found the silence that followed far more unsettling than his eyes had been. It made her fester in concern, wondering if she had in fact voiced her question in an awkward manner. Worse yet in a manner that would make it utterly impossible to answer. When at long last he answered her with an addendum to her question it left her angling her head with the upward inclination of one side of her jaw. There was a similarity in the way she looked at him to what one might see of a bird peering at its reflection in the water. The difference was that her curiosity was not born of a thoughtless mind but rather of a ravenous one. Fotios could have done no better to bait a hook than he did with his words, drawing her in only to lead to the next part of his explanation.
What did she propose to do with a man’s attention once she had it? The immediate thought that came to mind of course was that she would want to find her way to a formidable husband, which was the answer she full expected to say. Only she didn’t. Before she could open her mouth to say what she had in mind her thoughts migrated elsewhere. What happened after that? A marriage was all fine and good but when that was said and done what came next? It was ridiculous to assume she would never see court again once she’d been wed. So what came of court at that point? Was it all social niceties? No certainly not. So what was her end goal? “I suppose that would depend on the man and what he had to offer.” Narrowing her eyes slightly she took a sip from her cup, using the moment to try and help clear her mind.
Imma was not a calculating person or a malicious one by any stretch of the imagination. So there were limitations on what she might seek through interactions. Nothing she had ever really done in life had been selfishly motivated and yet now her uncle was asking her to define her motivations. “Influence them.” It was the simplest way she could think to explain it, but it was the most honest way she could think to define it. “Initially I imagine a large part of my involvement at court will be to seek a suitable marriage, however, my time at court does not end there. Least of all if I find something truly advantageous. I would like to believe that my ability to help my family would not end at a marriage contract.”