D. N. Angel Fan Fiction ❯ Heaven's Canvas ❯ First Portrait: A Dark Winged Angel ( Chapter 1 )

Hm. I do love MC Solaar. I'm still not sure whether I should do straight pairings or shounen-ai. I think straight pairings would be easier for this story.

Set in France. DNAngel has that very Euro-look anyway.

My French is going to be horrible. I'm using an online translator, since I know nothing else. If you are annoyed by it, volunteer to be my translator and help me get the sentences right.

 

Heaven's Canvas

The First Portrait: A Dark-Winged Angel

 

There was something absolutely chilling in this painting.

 

Daisuke paused over the canvas, his paint brush drooping between his fingers. He'd started with the night sky, the moon hanging fat and full, blanketing the city, a village of rooftops. A clock was on in the front of the picture, a large, thin structure standing upright. Moonlight bounced off it, reflecting onto the houses beneath, but what was disturbing was the figure he'd managed to paint without even noticing.

 

Hanging onto the clock was a man, tall and handsome. It was only his back you could see, but his face turned backwards, glancing between a flurry of feathers as his wings prepared for flight.

 

Daisuke laughed. He'd accidentally created Dark again. Dark Mousy, the man he'd been drawing in all his painting these days, whether it be a portrait of him or he was in the crowd of the execution he'd painted only weeks earlier. What was it that had absolutely captivated him with what he'd managed to create? It had been the same with the fans of his work, those who waited anxiously for the mysterious artist to finish his next masterpiece. They'd seen the Dark creature and fallen in love. He'd heard the speculations: a self-portrait? A narcissistic wish to be apart of his painted world? A friend of the artist? A lover? Maybe just his muse, one that had taken his soul and used it to paint some of the greatest works of art France had seen in a long time.

 

It was the reason he'd come, after all.

 

Daisuke let the painting rest on the easel to dry, gathered up the supplies, and checked his cell messages. No, no call from Risa, nor from anyone else. He'd told Risa he'd wanted to meet her if she decided to visit her sister this week, but there'd been no response. Instead, he was going to lunch with Riku, Risa's twin, who was taking art classes at the college in France along with him.

 

He grabbed his jacket and ran to the restaurant. He knew she would be late, but he wanted to make a stop off first, a note to Mme. Aubina to tell her the next painting would be finished soon.

 

A few girls he passed were discussing the Dark Mousy figure, leaning forward eagerly to see if they might spot him in the crowd, as beautiful as his painting. Daisuke let out another chuckle. No one would suspect that he would be the artist behind the character. He was an inconspicuous character, small and shy.

 

Even with the side stop he was a few minutes early. He asked for a seat by the window so Riku could see him as she entered. He quickly ordered a tea, checking his messages for the thousandth time.

 

Riku, as he suspected, was late. She was out of breath but shining bright.

 

“J'ai des nouvelles passionnantes! The latest Dark picture is up!”

 

He smiled. “I heard.”

 

“We could go to the exhibit after lunch. I love looking at those paintings. They're pure genius.”

 

He felt himself beam. “We can go. Did your sister say when she was coming in?”

 

She giggled and nodded. “You're so obvious. She's coming tomorrow and leaving a week later. You'll have plenty of time to see her. She's coming to class with me.”

 

He felt his heart speed up for a moment. Taking a careful sip of his tea he glanced at the magazine she'd brought with her.

 

“Qu'est-ce que c'est?”

 

She brought it up for him to see, blushing slightly. “It's the art exhibit they did at the college. I submitted something. I wanted to see what was being said.”

 

Actual art magazines and newspapers did stories over the college's exhibits. It was known for having a high standard of excellence in the visual arts, and they were constantly applauded for outputting some of the most talented artists. Riku herself was a photographer, known for great portraits.

 

He glanced at the article and could already tell they were the usual amazing reviews. A few of the pieces were pictured, and he could see Riku's in the left corner. It was a portrait of her sister, laughing and untying the bow from her hair. She was dressed in a soft blue nightgown, a light blush across her cheeks as if she were embarrassed to be caught in it.

 

“It looks good.” Daisuke's heart beat faster again. “You're sister's a good model.”

 

“Je sais. Way more photogenic than I am.”

 

“You're twins. You'd think you'd be just as good in front of a camera. Or on a canvas.”

 

Her expression turned dower and she glared out the corner of her eye. “There's only one other person I know with a camera, and he's starting to annoy me.”

 

Daisuke followed her gaze and left out a nervous laugh. Takeshi was standing outside, waving frantically.

 

“Should I deal with him…?”

 

Riku shook her head. “Let's ignore him. Just another crazy man on the street.”

 

He stood anyway, waving back to his friend. “Une minute,” he promised, and stepped outside to see what his friend had to say.

 

Takeshi Saehara was an aspiring journalist. He took every opportunity to break a new story, but it often annoyed those around him. Daisuke liked his aggressiveness, but didn't like that he always got stuck with the clean up. It was easier to just ask what he wanted and do it or not.

 

“Que voulez-vous?” he asked casually, and was greeted with the paper being shoved in his face.

 

“What are you doing?” he shouted, grabbing the paper.

 

“Read the headline,” Takeshi answered curtly.

 

L'artiste Fantôme libère la nouvelle peinture

 

“So…” Daisuke looked at his friend uncertainly. “The Phantom Artist released a new painting. It's not that big of a deal.”

 

Takeshi crumpled the paper angrily. “I thought I had him this time. I've been stalking around the exhibits for a while, hoping to see who was making these. Do you know how big I would be?! And he slips by me again.”

 

“Maybe he's just a ghost,” Daisuke smiled.

 

“Funny,” Takeshi sighed sarcastically. He peered through the window where Riku was waiting almost-patiently. “Are you guys eating?”

 

“See ya later, Takeshi.”

 

“Now wait a second-!”

 

Daisuke laughed as the crazed journalist slammed into the door. He rubbed his nose and stormed off, throwing a look the hidden artist's way.

 

“Qu'a-t-il voulu?” Riku asked, finishing her drink.

 

“Something about the Phantom Artist. He's mad because he's still anonymous.”

 

“What about you, Daisuke? I've seen some of you work. I bet you could do twice as well.”

 

He laughed at that. All the stuff he did for school or showed to his friends was nothing compared to the exhibits devoted to him. “Peut-être. I like my current situation.”

 

They finished their meal quickly, and Daisuke promised to pay for her ticket, as long as she paid for the meal.

 

---

 

Satoshi Hiwatari held up one finger as the symbol to woman he'd bought the ticket from. She handed it to him happily, sighing as he disappeared into the crowd. Such a handsome man…

 

He brushed back his hair, turning straight to the Phantom Artist exhibit. The newest portrait was in, and he was curious to see it.

 

Of course he'd been suspicious when he'd seen the first Dark painting up. It wasn't officially the first, since all that could be seen was the inside of a church and a shape in the windows. It was the shape in of an angel, with wings stretching across the stain glass windows. But he could see the black feathers hidden among the pews, and he knew it had been Dark's return.

 

The artist probably didn't know. He hadn't figured out for the longest time that the white-winged angel he'd been painting was someone real, someone he should know, though he'd never met him. He remembered the first introduction to the strange creature called Krad: his own painting. An angel tied with barbed wire and settled in the crucifix pose above an altar. The painting was still in his basement, along with all the others. No good could come from his art.

 

The latest portrait was a snow-scape, barren trees coated in snow so white it was almost blue. There was nothing alive but the two ravens flying overhead, and a lone creature in the tree, like a brother to the loneliness. Black feathers littered the snow, dirtying it, like a sacrilegious act, a Black Mass of sorts. What romance did the girls see in this? What was the hype? To him it seemed like a devil creature, a fallen angel.

 

But he knew better.

 

“Appréciez-vous l'objet exposé?”

 

He turned at the voice, curious to who was talking to him. The question had definitely been directed at him, and had come from a pretty brunette girl. She smiled at him, and he understood how false it was. The girl wasn't even French, considering her accent was off. He stared at her, and she blushed.

 

“I'm sorry,” she said, in uncertain English. “I like to talk.”

 

He had no response.

 

“You just looked so into the painting,” she continued nervously. “Are you a fan of the Dark Mousy collection?”

 

He gave a hesitant nod.

 

“I like it a lot. Dark is so…” She let out a sigh. Then she seemed to wake up, and tried to hide her embarrassment. “I'm sorry. I do that. Talking.” She held out a hand. “I'm Risa Harada.”

 

He shook it without meaning too and didn't give a name. Her blush deepened.

 

“You'll have to excuse me,” he said as politely as possible, and it still came out curt. He slipped away from the girl, shaking his head.

 

Risa sighed as the handsome man walked away. She'd heard about the newest addition to the Phantom Artist exhibit and ran straight over. She was going to surprise Riku at her apartment, but since she'd first seen the amazing portraits, she'd wanted to meet them in person. And now she'd just made a fool of herself in front of someone she'd thought seemed pretty interesting. Maybe he hadn't understood English, and her French was all wrong. The only other language she knew was Japanese, but no one here could speak it.

 

Suddenly, two familiar faces popped out from the crowd. She smiled brightly, running over to her twin and her companion, Daisuke.

 

“Riku! Niwa-kun!”

 

She didn't think as she used the name she'd called Daisuke since she met him. In France, they didn't use the honorifics, but he was too cute to not have the extra loveable “kun” at the end.

 

Both looked up, confused for a moment, then smiling bright as they recognized her. Riku met her first, grabbing her in a hug. Daisuke stood back, uncertain whether a hug or a smile was enough. Of course once Riku was done, Risa gave him the same generous greeting, causing a blush to light his face. Riku giggled at that but said nothing.

 

“I thought you were coming tomorrow!” Riku cried happily. “When did you get in?”

 

“An hour ago,” Risa answered with a giggle. “I wanted to surprise you. But I saw the Dark painting and I couldn't help myself.”

 

“You should've warned me!”

 

“But then it wouldn't be a surprise, silly.”

 

The two girls laughed and walked over the exhibit. Daisuke followed behind, feeling lighter. Whether it was the constant compliments to his works, the sensation of Risa in his arms, or the unexpected visit from Riku's twin, something had made him happier, and it definitely felt good.

 

In the back, Satoshi watched in curious interest. He had a funny feeling as he stared at the young boy that had showed up beside Risa. He turned quickly, a final glance to the Dark painting, and hurried away.

 

Translations:

J'ai des nouvelles passionnantes (I have great news!)

Qu'est-ce que c'est(What is that?)

Je sais (I know)

Que voulez-vous (What do you want?)

L'artiste Fantôme libère la nouvelle peinture (Phantom Artist releases new painting)

Qu'a-t-il voulu (What did he want?)

Appréciez-vous l'objet exposé (Are you enjoying the exhibit?)

This is all probably formal French.