You as art

The morning of the exhibition arrived far too quickly, bringing with it a cold, sharp knot in the pit of your stomach. Sleep had completely eluded you. Long before the main hall was set to open, you sprinted through the quiet marble halls of Markab, your chest heaving with sheer panic as you searched frantically for Nielle.

You finally found her near the grand gallery, casually adjusting her robes with her usual unbothered grace.

"Nielle! Wait!" you choked out, rushing up to her, your hands trembling at your sides.

She turned, offering you a sweet, perfectly innocent smile. "Oh, good morning, Warren. You look tense."

"The... the statue," you stammered, lowering your voice to a desperate whisper, your face burning red. "Please tell me you didn't... I mean, did you cover it? Did you put a leaf.... a fig leaf or some drapery... over... over my parts?"

Nielle let out a soft, amused chuckle, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. "A leaf? Oh, Warren, sweetie, true art doesn't hide behind artificial modesty. Modesty would ruin the entire concept of pure, undefended innocence we captured. Don't worry so much."

Before you could plead any further, she patted your head gently as you are some kind of pet, and glided past you toward the doors. Your heart plummeted into your shoes.

An hour later, the Blue Salon was packed with students and senior monitors. Banners fluttered overhead, soft string music echoed through the room, and dozens of sculpted works stood covered under draped velvet sheets, waiting to be revealed.

Luhnasa stood next to you, her hand casually linked through your arm. She was chatting happily, enjoying the social buzz of the room. Killandas was nearby, holding a chalice of wine, chatting smoothly with a group of admiring upperclassmen, though his eyes occasionally darted over toward you with a sly, knowing glint.

"Welcome, students of Markab!" Nielle’s voice rang out across the hall, drawing everyone's attention to the high platform at the center of the gallery. "Today, we celebrate form, truth, and the beauty of vulnerability."

With a dramatic flick of her wrist, Nielle cast a soft levitation charm. The velvet sheet covering her main masterpiece lifted into the air and slid away, revealing the life-sized white marble sculpture underneath.

Gasps and quiet murmurs instantly rippled through the crowd.

There you were, immortalized in polished, gleaming stone. The craftsmanship was undeniably breathtaking the gentle curve of the feathered wing, the delicate fold of the chlamys over your left shoulder, and the astonishingly lifelike expression of helplessness etched onto your face. But because the marble robe fell completely away from your right side, your lower body was left entirely exposed for everyone in the hall to see.

Sitting there on the cold throne with your feet barely touching the floor, the sculpture featured a remarkably tiny, shrunken penis.

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the immediate crowd, quickly replaced by hushed whispers and muffled giggles behind raised hands.

"Is that... Morinehtar?" a junior student whispered loudly enough for you to hear.

"Look at the proportions down there..." another girl giggled into her sleeve. "Is that an artistic choice to emphasize classical idealism, or... is it actually modeled exactly after him?"

"It has to be artistic symbolism, right? Like... representing pure innocence before maturity?" a guy next to her speculated, eyeing the statue critically. "Though, honestly, given his height, maybe that's just literally his size."

Standing beside you, Luhnasa went completely rigid. Her hand slipped out of your arm as her eyes widened in utter disbelief, darting between the naked marble figure on display and the very real, crimson-faced boyfriend standing next to her. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. She was caught in a horrifying crossfire between second-hand embarrassment, confusion, and shock.

Across the room, Killandas raised his wine chalice in your direction, a slow, razor-sharp smirk spreading across his face as he took a leisurely sip.

You felt every eye in the room burning into you. Warren, you wanted the marble floor beneath your boots to open up and swallow you whole. For a split second, you braced yourself for a wave of cruel laughter, but this was the House of Markab, where aesthetics, romance, and artistic truth overruled vulgar mockery.

Instead of jeers, a sudden ripple of genuine awe washed over the crowd.

"Magnificent..." a senior professor murmured, stepping closer to inspect the sculpture. He stroked his beard, admiring the light catching the polished stone. "The choice of scale down there is brilliant! By capturing such a delicate, unaroused, and almost ethereal form, Nielle has stripped away all crude animalistic intent. It shifts the entire focus onto pristine, untouched grace. Extraordinary modeling, young man!"

Nearby, your friend Arsen leaned over toward you, trying his absolute best to keep a straight face. He covered his mouth, shoulders shaking as a muffled snicker escaped his lips. Before Arsen could burst out laughing, a flamboyant upperclassman named Dorian wearing a sweeping lilac velvet cape, heavy gold rings, and perfectly styled silver-spun hair, sharply swatted Arsen’s shoulder with a folded lace fan.

"Mind your manners, you uncultured brute!" Dorian snapped in a dramatic, scolding tone, casting a disdainful glare at Arsen. "You are completely devaluing true high art! There is nothing to laugh at here!"

Dorian turned toward you, his eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated admiration as he clasped his hands together. "Oh, Mr. Morinehtar, darling... you are an absolute vision! Look at you! so delicate, so pure, so exquisitely petite! You look like a literal little angel descended from the heavens. To possess such natural, unblemished beauty... I must confess, I am positively green with envy! Nielle could not have asked for a more flawless canvas." Dorian delivered every word with a melodramatic, sing-song flair, his voice gliding rhythmically as he punctuated his sentence with a sharp flick of his lace fan.

Arsen rubbed his arm, muttering an apology under his breath, though his eyes were still dancing with amusement.

Meanwhile, the applause began to build, starting with the faculty and quickly spreading across the entire salon. The students of Markab clapped enthusiastically, openly praising both Nielle's supreme craftsmanship and your willingness to embody such a pristine concept of vulnerability.

Beside you, the initial shock onLuhnasa's face began to melt away. As she listened to the professors frame the statue's tiny proportions as a brilliant stroke of poetic license, a soft, amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She looked back and forth between the marble figure and your beet-red face.

She let out a quiet, melodic little giggle, finding the tiny, neat display of your manhood on the statue undeniably adorable still seems convinced that Nielle had deliberately shrunken the proportions for dramatic artistic effect.

"Well," Luhnasa whispered, leaning into your side and wrapping her arm securely through yours. Her voice was sweet, but there was a subtle, sharp edge of possessiveness under her giggle. "It really is quite... cute, isn't it? It suits you just a little too perfectly, doesn't it? Though I must say, Warren... I'm not sure how I feel about Nielle getting to stare at all of you in person to carve this. Or the fact that half the academy gets to admire your 'artistic innocence' every time they walk through the gallery."

She gave your arm a little squeeze, hiding her rising jealousy behind a coy, teasing smirk.

Across the hall, Nielle beamed under the glowing praise of her peers, while Killandas swirled his wine, his eyes fixed on the way Luhnasa clung to you... even as your humble, diminutive statue stood as the crown jewel of the Blue Salon.