You were a young painter apprentice under the teachings of Horace Gernna, a famous painting at his 40 years old

You lived in his mansion after receiving the opportunity to leave your small village to search bigger opportunities near the royalty, and Horace was the door to those opportunities. Inside his household you met Eleonora Gernna, a 20 years old fair maiden and Horace's first and only wife, result of a promised marriage and artistic admiration from Horace's part towards Eleonora's beautiful appereance and mannerisms. You were 18, closer to her age than her own husband.

Sometimes after harsh lectures from Horace you would catch Eleonora's green deep, resonating eyes like ocean waves looking at you from afar. As she dressed in long, ornate dresses. Her black hair always tied to a beautiful bun decorated with smal flowers she took from the garden, vanity was a strong presence in her being.

One day, while you cleaned the studio (atelie) Eleonora entered like a white-furred cat amidst snow, unnoticed. And took on her delicate well-structured hands a small pot of ink. You finally noticed her and your eyes widened, she inspected the ink unbothered

— He's using low quality inks with you it seems. Why's that, may I ask?