[b]Around 2:30 PM, Russel City 'Underground'[/b]

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/ZWuMjXG.png[/img][/center]

"And..." Mystification tinged Lucania's eyes, a hand came to cover her mouth as she took in the painting, "What is it that I'm looking at here?"

"Confusion, perhaps?" The woman next to her, a small woman dressed in all black, spoke with a sultry French accent. She was an attendant, of sorts... she was the matron of this lobby area of The Underground... a [i]'specialty fashion superette'[/i] Lucy had recommended-- Apparently, if you had the ammo, and you wanted to become a different person, these were the experts. How Lucy had contacts here, Lucania figured, was information best left private.

"Confusion?" Her eyes grew murkier by the second. The woman in black wasn't [i]wrong,[/i] Lucania certainly was confused. 

Christ, the entire way The Underground operated confused her! It was raining outside! She wanted professional help transforming her appearance to make leaving Russel easier-- and then it starts raining! She wasn't sure what was going on! Leoluca was nowhere to be found, Lucy would be headed to Serenity within the hour, her Windcaller had been abducted as soon as the [i]fashionistas[/i] of the establishment saw his state of dress... she was alone, and confused in the lobby of an establishment she had been informed would serve her purposes. SO far, she had been met with... perplexing rhetoric. 

She supposed the painting was no exception.

"Confusion is good, Mademoiselle Castalia."

"Is it?" Pulling attention away from the seemingly random, yet thoughtfully formed shapes of vibrant color, Lucania turned to the woman in black, "I'm not sure it's either good or bad."

"It is what you feel, no?"

"I suppose so."

"Why?"

"Why do I feel that confusion isn't inherently good, or why am I confused?"

"Why are you confused, Mademoiselle Castalia?"

"You are aware that water is falling from the sky, miss...?"

"Somme--"

Something clicked in Lucania's mind, "Oh! Like the battle?"

"Oui."

A smirk replaced the contemplation on Lucania's face, "So, Miss Somme, is that the pseudonym you give everyone?"

"No..." She chuckled, taking a moment to light herself a cigarette, "Such tests are reserved only for my most illustrious subjects."

Several bits of that sentence stuck out to Lucania immediately-- that she was being tested was perhaps the most disconcerting bit, but there was also the fact that apparently, at least to this woman, criminal heiresses were considered 'illustrious.' Lucania couldn't tell if she felt honored or not... "Subjects?" Despite her confusion's gradual transformation into frustration, she found herself enthralled--

"Oui. You are my subject, Mademoiselle Castalia."

"Subject...?" Lucania parroted the woman's voice, "Like, Gaen experiment subject?"

"Mmmm..." The french woman muttered to herself, "Bright... not horribly good at deduction..."

"I'm sorry?"

"My name." 

"Somme?"

"You already determined that wasn't my name, no?"

"I suppose, but then--"

"How did you determine that I was giving you a false name?"

"You're... French?" Lucania shrugged, "And the Battle of the Somme was fought in France?"

"Hmm..." The woman blew out a stream of smoke, "And how did you know about the battle?"

Lucania chuckled, "I must have read about it somewhere."

The woman sucked in air through her teeth, before tossing away the cigarette and slapping Lucania. Pain spread across her face fast, her eyes went wide as hands immediately shot up to apply pressure to the area of contact-- it was a light slap-- but it was an alien sensation to Lucania, combined with the surprise of the blow, the stinging pain persisted.

"What the hell, lady!?" There was a controlled edge to her voice.

"My subjects do not rely on luck!" Was the French woman's reply, her eyes held the fury of some vengeful god and her voice had the quality of an angry mother. Lucania couldn't help but feel a distinct childlike fear, "It is no wonder you failed to see past the lies of your companion."

Lucania tilted her head, "Wait, what?"

"The man you were with." The woman answered, lighting herself another fashion cigarette, "He goes by a false name."

"How do you know?"

For her query, Lucania was rewarded with another slap across the face.

"[i]This is my [b]craft[/b]! My [b]ART[/b]! You [b]foolish[/b] child! You [b]dare[/b] question my expertise!?[/i]"

"No!" Her hands left her reddened cheek to clasp together as she did something of a bow before the woman, "No, no, no! Never!" Lucania rose, "It's just... I didn't know, is all!"

"How could you?" She took a drag, "You see the world as you wish it, not as it is."

"I'm..." More confusion, "...sorry?"

"Don't be!" The French woman chuckled, "You'll make a perfect canvas!"

"Canvas? I thought I was a subject?"

"You were, now you will be my canvas-- I will create you into something..." The woman vouged, "Even more [i]illustrious[/i]!"

"Like..." Lucania's eyes ventured again to the painting, "...that?"

"Exactly!" The woman took a drag, "Do you know what this piece is called?"

"No, ma'am."

"Oh, I think you'll find it's very fitting for what you need!"

"Interesting."

"It's an Old World piece, titled '[i]Commitment to a New Idea[/i],'"

History repeats itself. A hand came to cover Lucania's mouth as she took in the painting, colors striking even more vivid as her life under one name would soon give way to a newer one-- even if only temporarily.

Lucania tilted her head, eyes gleaming golden, "How very post-modernist."

"Oui! Shall we go get you changed Mademoiselle Castalia?"

Matching her voice, Lucania replied, "Oui, Mademoiselle Somme.