The Artist

Pilate shyly turned his back, retreating to the computer desk. He produced another notebook from within the drawers, and began to sketch.

From his position on the floor, Victor struggled to watch his movements. Pilate's eyes seemed distant as he lightly danced his pencil across the paper, effortlessly creating whimsical but calculated strokes.

Slowly, the picture began to take shape, and Victor was amazed. Hanging onto every flick of Pilate’s wrist, Victor sat at full attention, all eyes on Pilate as he drew.

It blew his mind that a person his age could exhibit such skill and talent. While Victor was able to masterfully draw runes and ritual marks for all types of spells, he had never been able to draw in the realm of creative arts such as Pilate. It seemed so foreign, yet so beautiful.

Slowly, Pilate seemed to become aware of his observer. He would glance up, awkwardly exchange eye contact with Victor, and then immediately direct his attention back to the paper. Occasionally, he would whimper and blush, but kept silent otherwise. Despite his strange mannerisms, Pilate almost seemed to enjoy the attention.

Victor grabbed the notebook at his side, quickly scribbling onto it. “What are you drawing?” He quickly tapped the pencil on the concrete to attract him.

Pilate looked down, scanning the paper. He turned away, scratching the back of his neck. “It's, uh, just one of my characters. It doesn't matter,” he said, pained.

Victor frowned, Pilate seemed to be holding back what he really wanted to say.

“But I wanna know,” Victor countered with his messy handwriting, “So it is important.”

Upon reading his words, Pilate's cheeks turned beet red. Something sparkled in his eyes, the first note of happiness Victor had seen Pilate display. “Oh-okay, um,” he mumbled, voice cracking, “This is my OC- uh, that means ‘original character’- and her name is Snowy. She's a fox...and, uh, she works as a thief for her kingdom, like, they're all animals in her world, by the way, so…” Pilate’s voice trailed off, and he quickly held up his notebook, “Here's what she looks like! I drew her before her battle with King Leo! Leo’s, uh, the king of the country. He's evil, too. I think he may also be her dad, I'm still working on it…”

Victor’s mouth gaped at Pilate’s drawing. It was startlingly realistic, each delicate lock of the fox’s fur pencilled in with extravagant skill. The shading was perfectly blended, and Victor could almost imagine the soft lighting in the picture falling across the figure Pilate had drawn. It seemed like, at any moment, Snowy would crawl off the page.

“You-You really like it?” Pilate squeaked, peaking around the sketchbook.

Victor nodded furiously.

“That's, um, that's pretty cool,” Pilate's eyes instinctively darted down, “Usually no one cares about my drawings.”

“You're so talented!” Victor wrote frantically, waving it before Pilate.

Pilate took several seconds to process Victor's message. “No-no one's ever said that to me,” he breathed.

Victor flipped to a new page, having run out of space on the previous one. “Can you show me the rest of your drawings?” He smiled gently, not wanting to provoke his captor.

Hesitantly, Pilate fell to the floor beside him, shakily turning to the first page of the notebook. The image of a eagle clad in a knight’s armor met Victor's eyes.

“This is Gutsy,” Pilate murmured, “He's the bravest warrior in the entire kingdom,” he gestured to a drawing of baby eagles in the margin, “And these are his babies.” Pilate’s face went pale, and his knuckles turned white from clenching the side of the book, “Gutsy loves his babies. He doesn't hit them. He kills people who hit their babies.”

Victor's blood turned cold at the sudden severity, and he let his eyes wander away from Pilate’s haunted expression. He caught the fringes of a large bruise on the side of Pilate's neck, almost hidden by the turtle neck sweater he wore.

Feeling nauseated, Victor knew he had to change the subject. “How did you get so good at drawing?” he scribbled on his page, setting the notebook in Pilate's lap.

“I have a lot of free time,” Pilate replied, voice sounding hallow. He let his fingers brush across the bruise on his neck. His sleeve slid back, showing the ghost of another bruise. Pilate hastily pulled it back up.

Victor felt freezing sweat coat his back. Swallowing, he tapped his finger on the bottom of the page, where runes were sketched. He grunted what could only be described as a verbal question mark.

Slowly, a smile crept across Pilate's face. “Want me to show you what they're for?”

Author's Note- have i mentioned i LOVE pilate

how are you guys feeling about this arc so far? like it?