"Mr Harvey you have been my life long inspiration". I pause, "guess you have already heard that plenty of times huh". He looks at me curious. With confidence I look at him with my hands steady on my hips. "I have a challenge for you Mr Harvey" Everyone knows about unjust discrimination, treatment and slavery of my people in Liputania but nobody does anything about it or dares to talk about it " i say with elegance as the guests stare at me annoyed by my statement.
" I know no one will listen to a struggling artist who wants to fight against the injustices" I sigh. " But, who will dare question or go agonst a man of your calibre, a world renowned artist that is filthy rich and respected" he looks at me astonished "so Mr. Harvey, I am here to challenge you to make a magnificent art piece that clearly despite the brutal discrimination and slavery done to my people in Liputania and at the same time speaking against those tortures and vices"
Harvey gives a deep sarcastic laugh almost tipping over my confidence. " Do you really think I will go really go against Liputania government amd way of life when it is really non of my business?"He pauses. Besides what do i stand to get for doimg this because this could very much destroy my image. We are talking politics here and probably war" The guest glare at me, murmuring amongst themselves.
BbBut they fail to rip off my confidence. " u are going to change amd save lives" I say . " Do I look like a human activist to you?" he asked annoyed" . " Then I will give up my artistic career...I will never make art again " I say through gritted teeth. He just stays silent.
My words hangs in the air, a bold challenge echoing in the hushed gallery. Harvey's smile softens, replaced by a look of thoughtful consideration. He doesn't laugh, doesn't dismiss me. Instead, his gaze is intense, studying me with a perceptive curiosity. Deon, me brother, has moved closer, his hand resting lightly on my arm, his worry evident in his eyes. He whispers urgently, "Sis, what are you doing? Art is your life! And it's Harvey Quinn you're challenging!"
I meet my brother´s gaze, a flicker of uncertainty crossing my face, before I could turn back to Harvey, my determination hardening. The air crackles with unspoken tension. The elegant atmosphere of the gallery seems to fade, replaced by a charged intimacy between the three of you. Harvey takes a moment, his expression unreadable, before speaking. His voice is low, almost a whisper, yet carries an undeniable weight.
"A challenge, huh? I admire your audacity, Zuri. Creating art is rarely a solitary pursuit, even for those who work alone. Collaboration can ignite unexpected brilliance. But this... this is a significant gamble. Let's be clear. This isn't just about creating a piece of art; it's a wager on your passion and, if I accept, my reputation." He pauses, his eyes never leaving mine. "Tell me more about this magnificent piece you envision." The weight of his words settles upon all of us. The future hangs in the balance.
The hushed gallery erupts into a cacophony of gasps and murmurs as you describe your vision The hidden pain in your eyes is undeniable, a stark contrast to the fiery determination in your voice. Deon´s whispered protests are drowned out by the rising tide of shocked reactions.
A voice, sharp and cutting, slices through the noise. ´Who let this pitiful woman in here?´ It´s the gallery owner, her face twisted with anger. Before i can react, she strides forward, pushing between me and Harvey. A slap lands hard against my cheek, a stinging reminder of the powerlessness you once knew.
"´I won´t let a nobody like you embarrass Mr Harvey,´ she hisses, her voice laced with a mixture of anger and desperation. The whispers intensify, a torrent of judgment washing over me. Harvey, however, remains silent, his expression unreadable, his eyes fixed on me, absorbing the raw emotion unfolding before him. The gallery, once a space of refined art, has transformed into a battlefield of conflicting emotions, opinions, and social hierarchies. The tension is thick, palpable, a suffocating weight pressing down the gallery.
Ignoring the woman's furious glare, I turn my attention to Harvey, my gaze unwavering. "I guess you Siltarians are just as weak and touchy when your power is questioned," i state, a dramatic laugh escaping my lips. "You should thank God you're old and i respect the eldherly ; if not, I would have slapped you to your grave." I retorted angrily at the gallery owner. A chilling, almost predatory smile plays on my lips as i deliver this cutting remark. The words hang heavy in the stunned silence, a stark contrast to the vibrant colours of my dress.
"It's true when they say you shouldn't meet your heroes, or you'd be disappointed," i continue, the disillusionment evident in my voice. "And I truly am." With a final, mocking laugh echoing in the suddenly quiet gallery, i turned my back on the assembled guests, and with a newfound confidence, I stride towards the exit, leaving behind the shocked expressions and hushed whispers. Deon rushes after me, his worry palpable, but i don´t look back wven clearly tegretting what i said even though i was obvously disappointed.
The sting of the woman's slap is nothing compared to the bitter taste of disappointment. The air vibrates with the aftermath of my outburst. The elegant gallery, now a stage for a very different kind of performance, is left to absorb the shockwaves of my departure. The night, and its potential, has irrevocably changed.