Open RP: Art is Art is Art

[wolfram-jyari.livejournal.com]

A piece of parchment in the common room is enchanted to both display and shout this message:

Express the beauty of your soul through the art of Sir Wolfram von Bielefeld, Betrothed to the Maou and Hufflepuff! Please come to the corner of the corridor southeast of the Hufflepuff dormitory, north of the revolving staircase and one floor above the Transfiguration classroom (at least, that's where the corner is, this week).

All art produced will be yours to keep, to be passed down from generation to generation, long after your limited lifespan turns your human body into dust.

Enjoy this summer's day!

Sincerely,
Sir Wolfram von Bielefeld
Betrothed to the Maou
Hufflepuff

It might surprise people to know that inside Wolfram was the soul of the artist. At least, that's what the blond claimed. Unfortunately, Wolfram also had the soul of the brat, the egoist, and the tire fire down the street that had been burning for several months. None of these talents, however, had to be honed the way his art had to. Passionate portraits, Wolfram decided, needed practice, the same way Wolfram had to practice his magic and swordplay. But it was even more difficult for him to find models in Shin Makoku as it was for him to find sparring partners or at least targets with strong running legs.

It was very ironic, when one thought about it.

The must common victim subject for Wolfram's masterpieces was his future-husband, Shibuya Yuuri, but the blond hadn't seen the king this morning. It was like the Maou was developing some sixth sense when it came to survival skipping out. Well, Wolfram would show him! Yuuri would miss out on being the subject for Wolfram's work for the day, and will no doubt be devoured with jealousy when Wolfram's work of other students littered the halls, rather than any of Wolfram's art of the king

Wolfram set the easel down in a large, circular corner of one of Hogwart's hallways. It had a window facing the school's grounds, providing the right level of light and atmosphere. Wolfram tipped his red beret back and let out a content sigh. Yes, this would be the perfect area to practice his talent. He made sure that no paint was marring his artist's smock (he wouldn't look much like a professional otherwise... not to mention the smell), and set down his paintbrush to pick up his wand.

Now to wait for the volunteers...