Artistic Destressing

Vor was quick to ask for directions to the library Elizabeth had mentioned, locating the books needed to begin translating after a few detours. He saw several texts among the maintained collection that he would love to look over, not at all surprised that she would have such a varied selection. For the time being he focused on finding the ones he needed before returning to his room.
He hadn’t thought much of the space when he first saw it, too focused on the fact he had bound himself to the order and the implications of such hidden societies. It was rather meager, despite being bigger than any room he had stayed in before, with the usual wealthy decorations he would expect. A major change was the inclusion of a tall tub, something he had requested to test the generosity of his hostess and was genuinely surprised to see waiting for him. Perhaps he would enjoy a soak later.
For now he moved to the desk that lay at the end of his bed, laying the book Elizabeth had given him down along with those that would help him translate it. While he knew he should start immediately, he needed to decompress, especially with the revelation that the Visage could at any moment be a powdered reagent. Even now it boiled his blood, which in the privacy of his room allowed itself to be shown as a disgusted grimace. He knew what Mitera would say, that all things flow through different forms in life, that while it was a misguided tragedy he should pity them instead of hate. It was never that simple and he could pity only so many misguided before it became a burden.
He took a deep breath and flexed his fingers to work out the main pressure, preparing his paints in order to settle the rest of his nerves. He had decided against sculptures for the time being, unsure how Lady Elizabeth would view his odd art style, let alone the materials he often preferred to use. Painting would have to suffice.
With the muddled emotions inside of him, he couldn’t stop their influence into the work and he actually allowed them to flow. He wanted Mitera’s guidance, mumbling prayers to himself as he let the waters of life within him control his hands.He often didn’t even try to guess what he was doing, enjoying the mystery that came with it and feeling that trying to do so would ruin the creative flow.
In just under two hours, he felt emotionally spent. A good thing this time, since he needed a level head for the work ahead. While cleaning his brushes, he looked at the canvas with a mix of caution and understanding.
Two faces took up the center, facing opposite directions. Lady Elizabeth looked to the right, mirrored by the flawless Visage of Nimue. Surrounding them was a deep void, the Visage crumbling at the neck while Elizabeth simply faded into the abyss. Filling the void were shadowed faces, he was able to pick out Tristin, Dr. Jackal, and Mr. Sung from among them, though the rest he couldn’t see any notable features. He couldn’t tell if this work was from his own doubts or a message from Mitera. While the shadowed faces hinted at secrets and hidden agendas, to match his hostess with Nimue herself felt like an odd choice. Perhaps his conscience saw them as agents of change, figures of a brighter future that often worked with less virtuous allies. An interesting mental exercise for later definitely, but for now he felt ready to begin the precise work of translation.