Artistic Nudity (Open, Carter) [artistic nudity]

[Astley Pyatt]

She really hadn't expected anything to come of it. When she'd visited home in June and her friend Duke had asked her to help him with some photography, she didn't realize that this might happen. Whenever she returned home, Astley tended to become a little wild - one week reverting to some of her old ways, trying to distract herself from painful memories, visiting old friends - and acted, well, a bit out of character from when she was at Hammel. Before she'd come to Hammel she'd been very social - she still had a lot of old friends back home, several from various art classes or clubs or friends she'd made through her art studio.

And it was one of those friends who had contacted her. Duke had told her he was working on a gallery exhibition, that he was hoping she'd model for him, and she had - stupidly - agreed. Home gave her a rush she didn't have at Hammel. At Hammel she didn't know people as well as she did at home, so she was more cautious and reserved. When home, she was back in the place she'd grown up, where everyone knew her as the passionate kid who was a bit of a loudmouth. She was an entirely different person. No, she wasn't as loud as she used to be, and she still got a little antsy when dealing with anything that might cause emotional distress, but with her old friends she was able to kick back, and laugh, and tease, and flirt, and just have a good time. Which is why, when her friend had mentioned there may be some edgy content, she'd thought - well, fuck it. It's not like anyone was going to see this outside of his Boston gallery exhibition.

Except that that exhibition had been pretty popular. Enough so that it had gone on a tour of a few modern galleries. And it had ended up, somehow, by no fault of her own, in Pilot Ridge. Maybe Duke thought he was doing her a favor when he'd gotten the gallery to show it. When he'd emailed her the link to the gallery's webpage announcement, the title had been merely "!!!"

He didn't really understand how different it was for her here. He knew her as the girl who was passionate about art, not the girl who was terrified of her powers. (Not that she was that terrified anymore. Her grasp on them was getting stronger all the time, her awareness of herself much higher than it used to be. It was just safer to be cautious of new people, and had become instinct.)

As Astley glanced around, the one thing she was glad of was that she'd worn a wig or a mask (or both) in the majority of the photos. And one she was underwater, so that wouldn't be recognizable. It's not like she was the only one who he'd taken photos of, it was just that those seven pieces stood out to her vividly from the twenty or so in the exhibit. And only two of them were obviously her. Her kissing Duke on the cheek, and her, in a bathtub, in a bustier and heels, reading The Denial of Death. Because this was art. And Duke had come up with some strange ideas. He'd also had her pose with guns and cigarettes, but luckily most of those had been cut from the exhibit (though not all). Her nudes, however, had not.

This was her fourth day straight visiting the gallery, pacing around hoping no one would notice, and then slinking home. It was probably good for her, to help her practice keeping her temperature steady even when she was blushing like a madwoman. She was just sort of nervous. The exhibit was set to be here through the end of september, and she didn't know if she could visit every day. She wasn't even entirely sure why she was visiting. Was it paranoia? She was probably only making it worse being near pictures of herself (though she did wear sunglasses and a hoodie - her lame attempt at a disguise). In the end, she supposed the most she could do was stop someone at the entrance to that particular exhibit room if she thought they would recognize her. But that would probably get her kicked out of the gallery for good. So instead she lurked around the corner, keeping an eye on the entrance to the photography exhibit as she pretended to look at the painting exhibit in the room next door - for the fourth time.

[Carter Chevalier]

Here's the thing about Carter - the thing so many people seem to overlook. The thing he doesn't often mention, but always uses to his advantage. His knowledge of artistic expression was profound. He spent most of his summers prior to Hammel in France at an art school, despite how frustrating time with his mother proved to be. He still went, even after being forced to go to school in Vermont, of all horrid places. Though his interest in it had wavered since the move, he did what he could with what the environment offered him. Vermont and its artists simply failed in comparison to his usual taste. In France. Where he rightly belonged.

Dominique was busy with an individual that repulsed him greatly, but he wouldn't judge his brother's choices in this time of need. He wasn't himself. He most definitely needed to heal. Or to cleanse his palate.

Well, that was healing.

Dressed to perfection, Carter opted to fly solo as he went to the exhibition that day. Vermont was a forward thinking place, if nothing else, but he hardly expected suggestive nude photography to be on display. Much less for it to involve a woman. Poor photographer, didn't he understand that Pilot Ridge was more gay men than straight - or lesbians, for that matter? Oh well, this boy and his money had attended, so that was something in his favour. The photographs and exhibit were unmanned, so he passed through the entrance with ease.

Studying the images with a scrutinising eye, Carter almost wished he had been at the opening. He'd have sipped the allotted (and piss-poor) champagne, talked with the others and got to know the sorry excuse that was the artistic community of Pilot Ridge. But his thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he glanced over the image where a face was shown. Why did he feel like he recognised it?

[Astley Pyatt]

Oh no.

Astley's imaginary alarms immediately reminded her that this was a stupid stupid idea in the first place, this whole creepy waiting-around business. She should've avoided the gallery altogether, not staked it out for any Hammelites. But this guy she definitely recognized. Or, well, she vaguely recognized - she wasn't entirely sure who it was but she knew she'd seen him around the school, and definitely thought the back of the well-coiffed head looked familiar as she awkwardly slinked forward, attempting to determine if this was someone who knew her.

As soon as she realized she was moving forward, though, she immediately turned, facing away from him, reminding herself just how bad of an idea she'd just had. What was she, an idiot? Well, obviously, she thought bitterly. This whole photo thing was idiotic from the start. She should've turned Duke down - though, she had to admit, she'd had a great time when they'd actually been shooting. There was something very freeing about his set-ups. It was nice to be someone else for a while.

She certainly wished she were someone else now. She tugged a lock of her hair, nervously, where it flowed from beneath her hood, and chewed her lip. Maybe now was the time to leave. It probably was. Avoid any possible recognition by just getting out of there as soon as possible. ...But could she risk giving this guy time to look over the pictures more? Oh god - if he were examining them... Examining was such an ominous word.

She pulled her sunglasses down to gently worry one end between her teeth, her toe tapping lightly as she nervously considered her options, realizing this was taking far longer than she should've allowed herself. That thought gave her a jolt, and she hurriedly turned to verify that she was, indeed, in the clear - but that was not the case. Apparently, nervous tapping wasn't exactly a silent sport.

[Carter Chevalier]

Carter was very aware that his reputation at Hammel proceeded him. He'd shared his bed with a glorified number of students, past and present. And word of his skills got around. He didn't hesitate with the results a reputation like his gave him. After all, there was only one set of gorgeous blonde Terrakinetic twins wandering around that pathetic excuse for a decent school.

And he - as so many like to say - was the nicer of the two.

There was a sudden repetition running through his head. The gallery held no music, so it must have been coming from another source. That was when he looked over and saw a woman - or girl - blatantly staring at him. Or around him. At this distance he couldn't rightly tell. At first he ignored her completely. Yes, he was a Chevalier. And yes, he was beautiful. People liked to stare at what the thought they couldn't have. But it continued, and so the elder twin turned his body to face her completely and opened his arms slightly.

Did she like what she saw?

[Astley Pyatt]

Ohnohnohnohno. He had most definitely noticed. Crap. Crap crap crap. She squeaked a bit in surprise as he gave her a look she read as somewhere between 'what on earth are you doing?' and 'do you want some of this?' - neither of which she really had an answer for, except to blush and fumble in an attempt to put back on her sunglasses--

An attempt which failed miserably, as the plastic frames clattered to the floor, and she hurriedly crouched to pick them up, her hood falling down as she did so, the glasses stubbornly refusing to cooperate and getting caught in a loose thread on the hem of her skirt. Crap. Why did this happen to her? Frequently, too. "Sorry," she blurted, apologetically, "I didn't mean - I'm sorry." Even she wasn't entirely sure if she was apologizing for the noise, or the staring, or what, really - she just knew that apologies tended to be the best answer.

She tried to straighten, but (not wanting to lift her skirt) hurriedly crouched again, tugging at the tangled thread that wound through the hinges of her sunglasses, her blush adamantly remaining. Fuckfuckfuck. It was bad enough that she'd been caught being neurotic in a room where there were pictures of - well - but now she couldn't even make any sort of graceful exit. And instead she'd managed to entirely counteract her camouflage techniques, putting her at more risk of being recognized. Fucking fuck. And he was attractive too. Maybe she could've come off as sexy and mysterious in her portraits, but now she just felt like a silly schoolgirl. It was cringe-worthy.

[Carter Chevalier]

Carter quietly chuckled to himself at the sudden crack of noise that emanated from her. The silent room they were in made the small accident all the more prominent. Thankfully, they were the only two in the room, and if he didn't have a problem with it there no one else around who possibly could.

He watched blatantly as she struggled with the glasses she'd dropped. In a lighter moment, this would have been much funnier to him.

Finally, Carter decided to breach the distance between them. He kneeled in front of her and lightly swatted her hands away, opting to detangle the hinges from the idle threads it'd become lost in. After a few short moments they were free, and so he stood up and studied her face as he normally did.

"There." He said simply, handing the sunglasses out towards her.

[Astley Pyatt]

Holy mother of god. Oh goodness. Astley drew her hands away in surprise as he helped her with her (stupid stupid) sunglasses. But he was being so... so helpful. Such a gentleman, really. She wasn't exactly used to receiving that sort of behavior, especially not from people as stunning as he was. Her eyes were probably wide with girlish wonder, but she didn't even notice.

"Oh..." She took the glasses from him, slightly in shock that he'd even bothered, and the blush didn't leave her cheeks. "Thank you... I- I didn't mean to-" she gestured embarrassedly with the sunglass (though careful to keep a grip on them so the incident didn't repeat itself), "-I was just kind of... surprised. To recognize someone, I mean." Because she did recognize him, though she wasn't entirely sure where she'd seen him before. Definitely at school.

He could probably tell by now, couldn't he? It wouldn't be like she was revealing some big secret... she should just explain herself. She bit her lip, glancing at the ground, "I'm still not used to having this stuff up," she shrugged and nodded toward the photos, "It was... unexpected. To say the least." However Duke had gotten them to show his art, she had no idea, but she was fairly sure this wasn't their usual exhibit material. "I certainly didn't think anyone from school would ever see... well. That." The blush, which had started to fade momentarily as she'd explained her surprise, was back again, warming her face but (thanks to her training) not her entire body.

And he was attractive. Very attractive. And polite. She kept sneaking glances at him, shyly, her old self biting at her to flirt but being overwhelmingly silenced by her embarrassment and nerves. If she'd been at home, surrounded by friends, it may have been a different story. But she was in Vermont, where she had to keep a hold on herself at all times. Still... her mental self was swooning.

[Carter Chevalier]

"You recognise me?" Carter asked, running his fingers along the line of his jaw. He supposed he should be used to it by now, but given how good he usually was with faces, he had to wonder if he'd ever actually met her before. Probably not. But really, whether he'd met her or not didn't matter. Even if he had already.

"Oh," He allowed the sound to drop from his mouth as he glanced back over his shoulder, taking his time to recall the only image he'd managed to really get a decent look at. "So it's you in the pictures, obviously." Given what she'd said, that much was more than obvious. But he would plead foolish since he hadn't connected the dots before she'd done it for him. "Ah, well... So many of my peers aren't interested in this type of art." He admitted, indicating back towards it with a wave of his hand. "Fortunately, you'll find I'm not like most in Pilot Ridge."

And with that, he extended his hand out to her. "Carter Chevalier. It's a pleasure to meet the model behind the photographs."

[Astley Pyatt]

Astley shrugged, "I don't think we've met, just... just seeing you around campus." Her tone was vague because even she wasn't sure how she'd seen him. Though it probably had to do with noticing beautiful people.

Oh... he hadn't known it was her. .....Well now he did. Or, at least, he knew some were her. Her old self poked her - doesn't matter, he's flirting. Go with it, you stupid girl. Not like most in Pilot Ridge? Her mind immediately romanticized the idea, concepts of mystery and excitement and all those other themes of the bodice-rippers she'd never actually read pinging around in her head. Plus - he was an artist! Or, at the very least, interested in art!

She smiled, a little nervously, as he offered a hand, a name, and a compliment. Chevalier. The name was familiar, and it brought to mind a flurry of potential ideas, though she wasn't sure how many were true. "I- Pleased to meet you, Carter," there may have been a touch of coyness to her tone, flattered as she was, "I'm Astley." He'd given his surname, was she supposed to do the same? But from his (gorgeous) lips it had sounded roguish and suave, and from hers... she'd just feel clunky.

"I didn't mean to, uh, disrupt your visit." Despite the ever-present embarrassment, the smile hadn't left her lips. "I am glad that people are visiting, though. For Duke's sake," she added, not wanting to seem like an exhibitionist. Though she couldn't imagine that she would, given her lame attempt at camouflage earlier.

[Carter Chevalier]

"Astley." Carter repeated quietly, as if committing the name to memory.

With a small chuckle, he waved his hand to dismiss her worries; "No need to apologise. I'm glad you did." And in truth, he was. He preferred the company of others to his own any day.

"The photographer, you mean?" Carter asked, having read the name briefly before he walked in. At least, that's what he thought the name was. "I take it this was something of a favour to a friend of yours?" He supposed that makes sense. She seemed overtly shy, so it would be difficult to muster up the courage to allow the kind of photos that were taken to be shown. "I've always been jealous of those with an eye for photography. Personally, my artistic skills lie more in portrait sketches."

Which was why he was so intently studying her face. "I have to say, you're incredibly beautiful," He started again, "But I'm sure you hear that often."

[Astley Pyatt]

"I take it this was something of a favour to a friend of yours?"

Astley's lips curled into a wry smile at that, thinking back to Duke's request. "Yeah, I suppose you could call it that." At his mention of his own skills, her smile brightened, giving her a little surge of energy. "Oh, me too! I'm not much of a photographer, but I wish I was. I do more drawing, some water color or sculpture. My mom runs an art gallery, so I've been around it all my life." Art was a topic she was much more comfortable talking about, as it bridged her life between her old outgoing self and the self she was at Hammel.

"Recently I've mostly worked in graphi-"

"I have to say, you're incredibly beautiful, but I'm sure you hear that often."

His words left her speechless for a moment. Oh wow. Her? Really? She was beyond flattered. What could she even say to that? "I..." she let out a nervous huff of laughter, "Um.. wow, thank you." His words made her smile, and the response slipped out before she could stop herself, "You are too." Christ, really? She'd been doing so well. "I mean," she tried to explain herself, "You- you're very attractive. From an artistic point of view, I mean." The touch of coy playfulness in her smile was hard to hold back. Part of her was giddy over the compliments, and the other part was telling her to go for it. Not a single part was telling her not to.

[Carter Chevalier]

Initially, Carter was glad to hear she enjoyed drawing. He'd have to ask if he could see her work some time. Sure, most shy people were shier about their art, but when talking to a fellow artist they tended to calm down a little more. Be a little more willing. A little more open.

Carter instinctively lifted a hand and ran his fingers across the line of his hair. He always had to ensure it's perfection when someone spoke of his looks. "You're too kind. Really." He offered. It wasn't the first time a girl had looked at him from an artistic perspective. How else would he have gotten so involved with the model-loving girl he was working to forget? "Would you find it too forward if I asked to draw you sometime?" Something about her had clearly flagged his interest.

[Astley Pyatt]

Could any harm really come of it? He was nice, and polite, and attractive, and an artist.... It was like the universe had decided she'd dealt with enough and finally offered her a gift. A real renaissance man.

If she'd been in her right mind, she would've probably said no. But she was swept up by her teenage romance-craving brain, and it saw nothing at all to complain about. So she was doubly flattered. "Perhaps a bit forward, yes," her smile held another hint of flirtation, "But either way I'd be honored." And she would. She romanticized the idea of being someone's muse - one of the reasons she'd been willing to model for Duke in the first place. It made her feel special. And what girl doesn't want to feel special?

[Carter Chevalier]

Ah, but a forward nature often made things so exciting. Carter knew and lived by such a concept. If he let opportunities and moments fall to the wayside, he would forever live in caution. And there was nothing attractive about caution. "Surely you must be used to requests like these." He started again. Because look at her, really. Who wouldn't want to give her the kind of attention he was offering. "I'm considering myself lucky, to be able to spend a little more time with you."

Given what she'd said earlier, Carter had to assume she was a student of the Institute. But he rarely liked to assume with such delicate facts. "Are you a student at Hammel? If so, you'll definitely be seeing me more often." Because she was fortunate enough to have his attention.

[Astley Pyatt]

"Surely you must be used to requests like these."

Astley let out a slight nervous giggle, biting her lip, and her tone came out with a touch of humor. "Actually, no, not really." But god, did she love it. His words made her shift from foot to foot, feeling preened, and she wrapped a lock of hair around a finger. Lucky? Wow, he certainly knew the right things to say. She was practically glowing with the innocent delight she got from his compliments.

"Yeah, I am." She nodded to his question, unable to wipe the smile from her face as he promised her another meeting. "That would be delightful." Her words, while a little prim, held that same playfulness that had been leaking steadily into her side of the conversation. She loved this. It reminded her of home, and the boldness she had there. "Maybe you can model for me some time," she teased, glancing at him through her lashes. Oh the feeling of flirtation - she missed it so much. She blushed a little at her own words, but couldn't help it - he was beautiful and he was a gentleman and he was flirting with her. It was like lollipops and gumdrops and just pure sweet delight.