Soot was certain her boast would have landed with the Vizier. The Sultan was very pretty, and Soot most definitely could produce any number of moving pieces with her as a subject. But watching the Vizier stare her down with pursed lips nearly sent the painter reeling. A pit forming in her stomach.
And this odd attendant. Standing over the Sultan like a guard dog, almost speaking for her. Soot stared her down, working through the introductions mentally but forgetting to actually vocalise any of it.
She accepted her sketchbook and retreated to the side of the room. Trying to find a good angle for observation.
Soot already could tell she was walking a thin line, and now she had to pick an impressive subject. Her hand slowly started to move across the page. A few warm-ups would buy her time: loose gestures of servants in motion; the Sultans form locked in that momentary happy pose; The vizier's looming figure. The doodles quickly filled the page, sending crumbled charcoal tumbling into Soot’s lap.
She narrowed down on the Vizier, still hesitant to commit, but watching her closely. Simple gestures: the vizier’s pose as she looked to everyone present. Sketching the way her shoulders tightened as she looked at the Sultan, or how she stood extra tall looking down to a servant. How her hands moved slightly as she stared down the palace painter, Soot. Oh. She hadn't noticed how long she’d been locked eyes with the Vizier. She looked away and continued sketching.
Ruz was so inscrutable, the Vizier was so built for statecraft that Soot could barely read her. Even after her time working under Ruz, Soot could only tell when she was disappointed, or hungry (more of her emotions than most palace staff could claim to understand). If you could tell what Ruz was feeling, it was because she wanted you to know, and likely to be concerned.
Soot shuffled over ‘to get a better look at the dance’. Staring down the attendant from the side as she moved. Staring intently the painter did her best to capture some of the dance. She normally preferred to draw people stationary. But there was something relaxing about watching Nahla’s movements, the gestures flowing through Soot's hand and into the sketchbook made it look more like a combat manual than an artist's warmups.
Soot's sketches kept pace with the action, so much so that the artist (lost in her work) included a daring gesture of the leap, the crash, the kiss, the splayed out Nahla.
Gesture drawings, luckily, contain precious little detail. But staring at the sketchpad and realising what she’d drawing still led the painter to blush slightly and flip to the next page.