The Photo of Dorian Devereux

A muse

You could smell the roses in the air as the light summer wind carried it into through the delicate swiftness of the leaves. And although the photographer has wished to smell the lilacs in the summer through the wide open doors from his orangery but the heavy scent of the red thorns had killed his imagination.

The modern house with it's victorian bohemian inspired vibe has welcomed Lord Clement Orléans today, who is helping Eden Hallover with choosing pictures for his new portfolio. Eden has disappeared for a year, which caused quite a stir in both the fashion world and the photography world. When asked about it by Lord Orléans he simply answered with "I was simply broadening my horizons." That is if you are foolish enough to call that an answer rather than an evasion. But could anything that left our dear Hallovers mouth be seen as an answer, the short answer must be no.

So there they were, Lord Orléans smoking his usual cigarettes (which most probably are heroin laced and judging by the young talent scout's sunken cheeks and painfully thin hands the guess should not be far off) sitting on the old fashioned divan, legs crossed, doing virtually nothing as the young photographer grapples with his new creations. The whole floor is covered with photos that slowly scatter further and further away from being organised. "Too basic......." Eden whispers as he looks at one and after the other he groans that it is too artsy. "I thought you were supposed to be an artist." He looks at the Lord and if looks could kill Clement would be laying on an autopsy table in less than twenty-four hours. "I brought you here to help, my dear friend, not to sit around, eat my food and embrace the pleasure of a breezy summer morning." "Summer mornings are supposed to be savoured Eden, sometimes I wonder how you are alive. When do you ever take your mind off your work? you used to be like that back in Oxford! When will you learn to live." "My art is my livelihood Clement, in both ways, you know that all too well." The Lord chuckles.

"You are a gravely simple mind Eden, a camera and a model and you would be happy. I do not understand, how can you get so much out of so little, you can only show so much with a picture. There is nothing human about a model posing for you, a lamp you control to mimic sunlight. How can this make you happy?" Eden smiles. "You are so ironically foolish clement, the more you talk the more I begin to doubt whether you have ever felt like an artist, or even like a human. I put a piece of a soul in every picture I make, the intention matters, not the way the model smiles but what's behind it." Eden answers, which causes a hard to follow reaction from clement, it is a scoff and than something that resembles a chuckle. "I do not have enough talent to feel like an artist Eden, but that does mean I see the world as is, not how it could be. You are a talented artist my dear Eden but I am very intrigued how such an intelligent young man can see the world through rose coloured glasses."

Eden throws some pictures on the ground in frustration and one of the few black and white ones catches Lord Orléans eye. "And what is this? This is perfect for your portfolio." Eden walks up to Clement. Clement looks at the beautiful picture, the tanned person has sharp lips and a very distinctive nose, you hardly see someone as simply beautiful as this person. "No, that is too personal. Too much of me." "Of you? I do not see any resemblance!" Lord orleans exclaims as he looks at the adonis on the picture and Eden. "No clement it is not me but it is......a part of my soul." "You just said that is normal Eden, what does any of that have to do with keeping this picture for yourself." He says "He is too dear to me." Eden says as he walks into the garden.

Clement follows and they can finally smell the faint smell of lilacs through the heavy rose odour. He looks at the photo again, the dark curls resting on the shoulder which are wearing a linen shirt make it harder to distinguish whether this heavenly creature might be a boy or a girl. The tiny amount of freckles make the person believable but the long lashes undo that effect. Resulting in the feeling this boy has been touched by an angel. Clement cannot help but wonder what the boys eyes, which are turned downward in the picture, must look like. "Why is he too dear to you?"

"I had lost myself Clement, lost myself and my art, my style, my livelyhood and my hope. I had run off as an artist, hoping inspiration would strike again. But it didn't come the isolation only made it worse. So I decided to show some face again, one of our old oxford friends invited me to a ball and although I loathe them I thought it would be quite the opportunity. Oh and you weren't invited because of your.....reputation. And than I saw him, he was dancing and we locked eyes. I fell for with those eyes, they are my muses and they moved me to create. So I asked our friend, you must remember him. Artie, to introduce me to him, which wasn't quite so succesful because Artie could not remember what job he had and what instrument he played, turned out the played all three and sings too. He is a soprano, even though he is a boy. Extraordinary lad really, Dorian Devereux. A tragic personality really."

"So that is his name, I would love to meet him." Clement says. "I did not mean to tell you his name." Eden says, rather disappointed. "Why not?" "He is too pure for you Clement, you'd poison him with his own blood. Rip out his heart and destroy his hope." "Purity is naivety dear Eden, nothing more nothing less." "And mercy is grace. Do not meet him, do not look for him. He is happy as he is Clement, naivety might be bliss." "Nonsense, naivety is fiction, it'll shatter one way or another." "Don't mistake his innocence for foolishness, he is a bright young man!" "How young?" Clement asks. "Nineteen." Eden says. "Now you are being foolish you know." Clement says with a smile. "I should like to meet him Eden." "I am glad you haven't" "Don't you want me to meet him?" He shakes his head. "Not at all"

The butler walks up to them. "Mr. Dorian Devereux is in your studio, sir" "You shall introduce me this instant Hallover!" "Wait clement, promise me you will not try to change him. His broken, innocent, beautiful nature is the only thing still fuelling my arts. I shall not like having that taken away too....." "You speak in tongues my dear friend." He responds dragging Eden into the studio.

Dorian is sitting with his back towards the door, finishing a simple back piece on the piano. His white silk blouse loosely hanging around his shoulders as his elegant hands dance over the piano. "How old are these Kafka books Eden? I should like to borrow one, if that is alright with you." "That depends how succesful today is Dorian." He groans. "Why do I need to pose all the time, I would like real life pictures without my face more anyway." He says and Clement laughs, causing Dorian to turn on the piano stool and stand up immediately. "I wasn't aware that you had compancy otherwise I would not have behaved that way. My apologies." "It is quite alright this particular person doesn't have manners anyway." Eden says while gesturing towards clement. He straightens his blouse and brownish dress pants, which is probably a part of the suit but because of the hear he decided against a jacket. Dorians eyes slowly open and as the sun shines on his face framed with ebony coloured locks the striking emerald green of his eyes is revealed from under his lashes. When you would see dorian you would debate whether it is a boy or a girl, his red lips accentuate his androgynouse face, his high cheekbones remind you that the greeks were great sculptors but could still not catch the inherit beauty of such an adonis and the eyes, the eyes.....what to say about these enchanting eyes.