Elga chapter 2

"So we have the pleasure of your company today, Miss Petrovich?"
       Katinka ignored the small swell of smirks from her classmates that followed the History lecturer's sarcastic greeting - and save a neutral glance at the spare, middle-aged man, Katinka ignored him as well. She'd sussed Harrison ages ago as one of those minimally talented artists who resented those with true ability. Katinka didn't see why she, or anyone for that matter, should bear the brunt of his failure. Was it her fault Harrison's art was so poor he had to make ends meet by teaching Art History at the college? It wasn't worth the effort rising to his bait. The young woman settled into the seat, readying her pen and notebook should any unlikely pearls of wisdom fall from the lecturer's lips...

Katinka didn't have a good attendance record. She managed to get to classes often enough not to lose her place in the course but frequently, if she was involved in her work, couldn't see the point of interrupting the artistic flow to attend something she considered to be a waste of time. There were times she wondered why she bothered continuing with the Fine Arts degree - it's not like she needed to study art, she lived it, the need for it flowed through her as necessary as blood – but then she'd remember her stubborn assertion to prove she wasn't an idiot, that she could get that stupid piece of paper others held in such esteem.
      Katinka'd managed to claw her way into this course purely on the contents of her folio; if she'd had to rely on her school academic record she'd have had no chance. The Jobs Guidance Counsellor's advice to the young artist in her final year of school still stung. The arrogant twat had strongly suggested she not bother with anything too intellectually demanding, confine her 'career opportunities', in fact, to working at fast-food establishments until she got married.
      Bastard. How dare he?
      Though in all fairness she should probably thank the fat prick, if he hadn't got her so mad she might not have tried so hard to get a place at University. Katinka could admit to herself it wasn't always a waste of time being here, either. She could acknowledge the benefit of having access to a variety of disciplines and mediums, it'd done wonders for her skill and understanding of her craft – she'd grown so much as an artist over the past couple of years.
       And of course, there was Rani. Katinka would always remember her first sight of the short hindustani woman, heading up a rally on campus for some cause or another. The young artist had been captivated - dressed incongrously in a sparkling saphire sari Rani stood out from the casual denim and t-shirts like a gem amongst gravel...

But still there were times Katinka found the course hard going. Not from a practical point – no, the standard and scope of her art more than kept her tutors happy – but it was a frustrating struggle keeping up with the written assignments. Rani helped where she could, but her psychology workload was intense. If it wasn't for Phil and Ivy - two of Katinka's more reasonable and intelligent classmates – being willing to spend the time with her to help make sense of the assignments she'd be stuffed!

The lecture had passed tolerably quickly and while Harrison hadn't said anything significant enough to copy down, Katinka's notebook had acquired several more pages of sketched ideas. She was thankful her next class was a practical one - ceramics – she'd be able to implement some of those ideas immediately and give her brain a rest. Katinka sighed; why was it words were so hard for her to internalise? She could find several layers of meaning in the simplest of pictures but words? They were so... blank.
       Katinka strolled along the empty corridor, automatically noting the patterns and pictures formed where the motile splashes of weak sunlight interacted with the scuff marks on the linoleum. There was beauty and interest everywhere in this world, it astounded her how few could see it.
       "Hey, babe."
       The smug, self-assured male voice sounded uncomfortably close behind her. Katinka scowled; how had he managed to get so close without her noticing? The young artist didn't deign to acknowledge the boy's presence, simply continuing on as if he hadn't spoken. A large hand wrapped around her upper arm halted her in mid-stride.
      "It's not polite to ignore someone when they say hello."
       Katinka let herself be jerked somewhat roughly around to face the taller, broader, athletically toned brunette. Eddy's lips quirked up into a half-smirk, an attempt to make light of his actions. Katinka kept her expression blank, letting none of the contempt she felt for this minor aggravation show.
       "You're cute, you know?" If he was discomfited by her lack of response he was doing a good job of hiding it. That or he hadn't noticed. Katinka sourly suspected the latter.
      Eddy stepped close, looming over the woman, only a few inadequate inches of air separating them. "Wanna come over to my place tonight?" he leered, "I can show you what a real man can do."
      Katinka blinked, slowly, but her expression didn't change. Eddy took an unresisting hand and after a furtive glance down the corridor pressed her palm over his genitals.
       "There's something that fat girlfriend of yours can't give you, eh?"
      Katinka's face remained blank but her hand had curved to fit around the growing bulge at the boy's groin.
      "Oh yeah, babe," it came out part groan, part growl as she began to stroke him, "that's the way."
       Katinka raised beautiful grey-violet eyes to his then methodically, inexorably, tightened her grip on his genitals. Eddy froze, quivering, brown eyes wide in disbelief and shock. Katinka continued to squeeze, so tightly she could feel the denim strain under her fingers. The boy whimpered, a tiny sound in the deserted corridor, tears spilling over his eyelashes to splash on pale cheeks. Katinka stretched up, her lips almost touching the corner of his trembling mouth, her face so close to his she could see the individual beads of sweat on his upper lip.
       "Leave me alone."
       Eddy couldn't breathe at that point, let alone speak. Katinka smiled slightly, though her eyes were cold, and let go, turning to saunter away as if nothing had happened. Behind her she heard Eddy drop to his knees with a strangled moan. With any luck he'd barely be able to piss for the next few days...

"... Katinka..."
      The friendly voice gently called the artist out of her absorption. Katinka blinked slowly at the two figures standing in front of her; they seemed familiar... She blinked again. Ah, Phil and Ivy.
       "There you are," Phil grinned, wide grey eyes dancing with fond amusement. "It's lunchtime – would you like to eat with us?"
       Katinka frowned.
       "I suppose I'd better."
       She wasn't keen on leaving her project but it was started now and she could very easily pick up where she'd left off. Katinka covered the small slab of china clay with a damp cloth then slid the whole into a plastic bag, carefully and methodically smoothing out the air bubbles. Satisfied at last she'd made every effort to keep the clay moist and malleable in her absence, Katinka was finally able to give her full attention to her waiting friends.
       It wasn't unusual, this... loss of self when Katinka was working, becoming so engrossed in the act of creation that everything else faded away. Rani had learnt to live with it, as had Phil and Ivy, though these three were the only ones who truly seemed to not only understand but accept that this was a natural, essential part of the creative process for their unsociable friend.
       Katinka listened with half an ear to her classmates' cheerful prattle as they strolled towards the canteen, a good deal of her awareness was still hovering protectively about her sculpture. An idea had sparked during Harrison's interminable lecture, for a series of wall-plaques representative of an arial view of the ground, as if someone were flying high above and looking down. The individual plaques would be linked by a thread of a river, or a road, winding through gradually changing landscapes. Katinka planned on moulding the clay so it looked like a three-dimensional topographical map, then playing with colours and glazes to give the impression of depth and perspective. However instead of the usual greens, blues and browns one would normally expect to see in something like this, Katinka planned on using reds, purples, turquoises and greys. The idea was that the viewer would subliminally recognise what they were looking at but the colours would be 'off', creating a subtle discordance. It could be a long-term project as well, open-ended, with new plaques able to be added at later dates. Katinka was going to call it 'The Royal Progress'...

The canteen was crowded and noisy as usual – and malodorous. The artist took a moment to dampen her acute sense of smell, something she'd had to learn to do a long time ago, lessening the assault on her nostrils, then went to search for a table while her friends lined up to buy their lunch. Katinka hunted down a recently vacated table, wrinkling her nose at the pile of rubbish left. People could be such grubs. She sighed and shoved it to one side, not willing to get up and put it in the bin until Phil and Ivy returned to stand guard over their seats. Katinka smiled as she dug the lunchbox out of her backpack. She always brought her own food, not only was it cheaper it was far healthier than anything the canteen could provide.
       Phil put a tray laden with fried food on the table before swinging himself down into the seat. He peered into the bright-purple plastic box.
       "What have you got today?"
       "Leftover pizza," Katinka grinned, "vegetarian, extra mushrooms, no cheese – so you won't want a piece." She wryly eyed Phil's lunch selection.
       "Got that right," the brunette shuddered as he shoved a handful of greasy chips into his mouth.
       "Heya," Ivy put her own tray down on the table, "mind if Felice joins us?" She glanced over her shoulder at the petite red-head standing close-by. Katinka shrugged, Felice had recently joined the course, transferring mid-semester from somewhere else – she was inoffensive.
      "Sure!" Phil beamed, noisily shifting his chair over, clearly making a space for the newcomer beside him. Ivy and Katinka exchanged a look – the sculptor could be so obvious sometimes.
       Felice smiled shyly and settled herself at the table.
       "Would anyone like one of these?" she proffered a clear-plastic container filled to the brim with fragrant brown spheres – meat balls.
      Katinka's nostils twitched but she smiled slightly.
      "No, thanks."
      "You sure? They're good – my mum made them."
      The artist shook her head.
      "I'm vegan."
      "Oh sorry," Felice all but snatched the container back to her chest. She tilted her head enquiringly, green bird-eyes bright and inquisitive. "Vegan? Health or ethical?"
      "Both," Katinka replied, "but mostly health. I have a bad reaction to animal products."
      "How bad?"
      "Deadly." The artist was laconic. Katinka bit into the cold dough and watched Felice digest that bit of information. Would she ask any more questions? The young woman was displaying all the signs of morbid curiosity.
      "Can I try one of these?" Phil reached for the container, bestowing one of his dazzling smiles on Felice as he did. She blinked, then grinned, a slight flush colouring freckle-dusted cheeks.
      "Please."
      Ivy and Katinka exchanged another look and the negress held two fingers up out of sight of the others. Katinka smirked – two days, Ivy was giving it two days before Phil talked the little red-head into bed.

Later in the day, back at her flat, Katinka sipped a cup of jasmine tea while she watched the elderly man intently regarding her latest work.
       "It's certainly... powerful." He tapped his lip thoughtfully. "Disturbing." A subtle hint of an accent coloured his softly-modulated voice.
       "Thank you," the artist graced him with a small smile, "That's what I was aiming for. Do you think you can sell it?"
       "To be honest, 'tinka, I'm not sure." He straightened up, frowning behind thick glasses. "But I can try. There might be one or two of my regular patrons who could be interested."
       "Thanks, dyadi," Katinka smiled then faltered. "I haven't done anything about framing it…"
       "I don't think you could!" the man eyed the coiling silver dragon on the canvas and his voice dropped to a murmur. "It would be like caging the creature." He visibly shook himself then took a step closer to the painting. Bushy grey eyebrows rose sharply. "This is very recent – it's not dry yet. Are you sure you want to sell it so soon?"
      Katinka shrugged.
       "I'm done with it and it gives Rani the creeps." She smirked, "And I need the space."
      The elder turned to plant a fond kiss on her forehead.
       "When you are rich and famous you'll be able to afford all the space you want."
       She smiled self-deprecatingly into warm brown eyes.
       "Yeah, one day."
       "I'm serious, dyevochka," he gently took the young woman by the shoulders, "One day the world will be at your fingertips."
       Katinka frowned.
       "I don't want the world; I just want to be left alone."
       "If that is your fate..." the old man shrugged philosophically then released her to approach the painting again. "This really is very good, Katinka. I will do my best to get a fair price for you."
       "Thank you, Uncle Vadim," she brushed a kiss over a wrinkled cheek. "Shall I carry it out to your car...?"

Katinka, restless, prowled around the dark flat. Only a slim needle of indistinct gold from the street lights outside found it's way through the drawn curtains, but that was sufficient illumination for her to not trip over anything Rani had left lying around. Her lover was having dinner with her family, she could be there for hours yet, and Katinka was at a loss with what to do with herself in the meantime. The artist involuntarily glanced over her shoulder at where the dragon painting had sat on the easel. There was a tangible emptiness to the space that seemed to reverberate...
      Katinka snorted indelicately, snatching up a sketch-pad and pencils. She had too active an imagination, obviously - she made herself comfortable on the battered couch and flipped the pad open to a new page - no sense being idle, she might as well harness the blasted thing.
      Several minutes later Katinka frowned, her pencil hovering over the still blank sheet. Any inspiration had evaporated, chased out by the gnawing sense that something was wrong somewhere...



© 2004 January 19th Lutra



On to Chapter 3









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