"It's not quite right."
The voice came from a tall blonde woman who was offering a rather tired looking gentleman an apologetic smile. She wanted white but not
white white, a fact that made no sense to anyone other than her. Plain white was too aggressive, too bright and too strong. Cream was wrong, too, as it looked like soured milk when the sun hit it. "But it's fine," she gushed, squeezing the man's arm affectionately. "I can mix my own." This seemed to appease him as he packed his bag and left, leaving Eleanor staring at the wall with her hands on her hips. She had a painter's eye, which was why nothing was fitting as it should.
An hour later, she'd mixed what she wanted by herself and she began painting. She was efficient at what she did so most of the painting was done swiftly. The colour chosen was a pale ecru, soft and warm and clean and inviting. It looked modern, classy, more to both of their tastes. Eleanor loved the smell of paint and of turpentine. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before she smiled; home felt great.
She wanted to hang some art, of both hers and of Loren's, on the wall. She'd already framed some of William's rather…impressionistic offerings. They consisted of splatters of bright colours, messily drawn but no less beautiful. The large apartment had been a good fit for both of them. In a plush and leafy suburb of Paris, it was close enough for work and it still had access to greenery for their child. It wasn't that raising a baby in inner city Paris was difficult, she just didn't want to.
Eleanor had had a busy day. She'd done a full day's work, collected her son and then spent hours painting. It was slowly starting to look more how she liked it. The bedrooms were fine. Those had been the first things they'd decorated when they'd moved in. But the place needed improvement. The windows were too small and the doors were flimsy but the balcony was beautiful. It was mainly cosmetic. It wasn't a drastic change but one that the home so clearly needed.
"Mm?" Eleanor asked, snapping out of it as she heard her name being called. "Oh don't worry," she called down cheerily as she blew at a lock of her platinum blonde hair. It had been long since Will was born but now she'd sheared it back off, reverting to the pixie cut she'd had in Beauxbatons. It felt nice, good, like she was back to how she should be. With her hair chopped to the chin, her bright green eyes seemed brighter, her complexion smoother as though she'd been lit from within.
"Boo," Eleanor said with a grin as she poked her head around the door as she surprised him. As always, she gave him a quick once-over. The fine fabric of his shirt did nothing to hide his muscles. She was very much in love with her husband but she also thought he was the sexiest man alive and her mind was wandering, causing her to bite on her lower lip swiftly.
"No, you're right on time," she said gaily as she took his hand and lead him back down the stairs. "What do you think?" She asked, sounding anxious. The
room was taking shape. She twisted a lock of her hair nervously as she watched Loren's face. The sofa was the same, just reupholstered like the cushions. The book cases were painted and she'd hung new photos; of them at school, on their wedding day, Will, their parents and pets, all together. "…please say something, I'm scared."