The space was so silent that the human ear could catch the brush scraping lightly against the canvas, a soft, wet sound.
With every stroke of the brush, Lady Evelyn mended Silvie's form, restoring both her flesh and apparel with the appropriate colors.
But her touch was not gentle. It came with agonizing pain, each stroke like searing fire beneath the skin, as if the body were being redrawn from the nerves outward.
Silvie's portrait manifested tears that fell from her newly painted eyes.
"Endure it, it will be done soon, Silvie," Lady Evelyn assured her, as she continued painting her wounded body with precision and detail.
The Lady of Velvet could manipulate her oil-painted "ink," drying or wetting it at will. She wiped away the red drippings, and those that had fallen to the floor hissed until they completely vaporized.
"I could only imagine being able to paint with such detail that it imitates real life. I had almost forgotten that Silvie was mortally wounded just moments ago," Sir Daishi remarked, his eyes full of admiration for the art piece.
He had witnessed everything, Lady Evelyn's mastery of shading, color theory, texture, and the precise pressure of each stroke.
A true master of her craft.
"I learned from the best, and I intend not to bring shame to her teachings..." Lady Evelyn replied humbly. Daishi smiled and nodded; after all, he knew exactly whom Lady Evelyn was referring to.
"You're doing her justice, Lady Evelyn..." Daishi remarked in kind.
Lady Evelyn was nearly done with the fatal wound in Silvie's head, adding a meticulous brush stroke here and there as she rendered her forehead and flowing white hair in flawless detail.
The result was a display so lifelike it felt eerily real, an artful portrayal of a Servant's Melancholy.
With the final touch of her brush, Silvie's internal agony came to an end. The process had been painful, but at last it was finalized, and with it, Silvie's likeness was liberated from its wounds.
"All done," Lady Evelyn said, pride in her voice.
Daishi stepped back. It was time to set Silvie free from the painting, a process he was eager to witness, having rarely seen such a phenomenon.
Lady Evelyn carefully set aside her palette and paintbrush on the table Sir Daishi had prepared beside her.
He moved diligently, sealing the oil paints infused with her ink into a steel box, preserving each color with care, saving it for later use.
The mistress stood in an enticing manner, her spine arching slightly as she rose. Daishi immediately followed, setting aside the black chair she had just occupied.
From her fingertips, the familiar, hissing velvet ink began to seep, just as it had in the alleyway. When her delicate fingers touched the canvas, sending ripples across its surface, Silvie felt it: a brush of sensation against her own soft cheek.
It reminded her of the feeling of someone's touch once again; however, that touch remained cold.
Then, the ink bloomed, spreading like blood splatter and veiling the entire canvas in a shimmering velvet glow. Slowly, Silvie's body began to materialize, as if pulled from another world; her form emerged from the painting.
The sound was hideous, hissing and slushing.
Her limbs twisted into being as her breath caught in her throat. And without warning, she was torn free from the canvas. She fell softly to her knees on the store's cold floor, her descent slowed by Lady Evelyn, as she panted for air.
She immediately checked her abdomen and head, and the gunshot wounds were healed, as if they had never been there. Not even a single bruise or mark remained.
"Welcome back... Silvie." Lady Evelyn smiled with a sly look upon meeting Silvie's gaze.
"How are you feeling?" the mistress asked.
The servant, disoriented, feeling like a newborn, took a moment to get a good sense of her limbs and the sensation of her dress.
Being a painting had been such an extraordinary experience that it took a while before she composed herself.
Sir Daishi offered her a hand, and she respectfully took it. The gentleman supported her upright, but seeing that she could hold herself, he let go gently.
"Lady Evelyn..."
"I owe you my life." Silvie, on her recovering legs, still managed to bow in gratitude for her mistress's efforts.
"No need to mention it..." Lady Evelyn softly replied.
Sir Daishi came into contact once more, offering a glass of water. "You should drink water; your voice sounds hoarse."
Silvie took it carefully, quenching her thirst and moistening her dry throat. She gave a quiet 'thank you' to Sir Daishi. The gentleman offered napkins, which Silvie gladly used to wipe the sweat from her face, and he then took care of the glass of water and the used napkins.
"Lady Evelyn—I apologize for my pathetic display."
"Apologizing for what? Silvie, I'm the one who almost got you killed," Lady Evelyn admitted her mistake, and Silvie saw an angle; there was a hint of guilt coming from her lady. The perfect time to ask a question.
Despite the agonizing ordeal of being trapped within a painting and enduring her wounds, to breathe again and to feel once more after being sealed in art was an overwhelming sensation.
Yet, one truth resonated more clearly than any emotion, "Forgive me, Lady Evelyn, but I wish to understand how you were able to perform such a miracle!"
Upon witnessing the act of scripting, Silvie felt an instinctive pull toward its intricacies, an impulse so powerful it overshadowed her fears.
Daishi found it odd: she wasn't seeking answers to why the incident in the alleyway and the excruciating mending had happened, but rather to how the phenomenon had occurred.
"What kind of servant did you buy from the Velvet Pavilion, Lady Evelyn?" the store owner asked himself inwardly...
Yet, for reasons one could only speculate, the script that someone like her might manifest was beyond imagining.
"Becoming a Scripter is a highly controlled and rare opportunity. 'We' don't simply grant anyone such power, as it poses a risk, not just to us, but potentially to the whole world."
"However... perhaps she could be of use to us, and to Lady Evelyn's ambitions in other ways," Daishi considered, silently.
Chapter End...