ARTISTS TEMPEST: A Return to Creativity

**Alivia's POV**

As Jess and I stepped onto the campus grounds, the vibrant energy of the art school greeted us like an old friend. The air crackled with excitement, filled with the chatter of students and the rustle of sketchbooks. Every corner seemed to hum with the promise of creativity, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation coursing through me.

The campus was a kaleidoscope of colours and textures, with students bustling about, each one a living embodiment of artistic expression. From the eclectic fashion choices to the unique hairstyles and accessories, it was clear that this was a place where individuality thrived.

As Jess and I strolled through the bustling thoroughfare, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer diversity of talent that surrounded us. Everywhere I looked, there were students lost in their own worlds, sketching, painting, and sculpting their visions into reality.

This wasn't just a school; it was a sanctuary for artists, a place where creativity reigned supreme. As we weaved through the throngs of students, their chatter mingling with the crisp morning air, my mind wandered back to the previous night.

I was sitting in my room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm embrace around me, when a gentle knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. It was Vasil, Dr. Volkov's assistant, bearing news that filled me with a whirlwind of emotions.

"Alivia," he began, his voice tinged with excitement, "Dr. Volkov has granted your request. You're allowed to go back to art school starting from tomorrow."

As I stood there, stunned by Vasil's announcement, the reality of his words began to sink in. I was allowed to go back to school, starting from tomorrow. A rush of emotions flooded through me - excitement, gratitude, and a hint of nervousness.

I thanked Vasil profusely, barely able to contain my joy. The weight of the day slowly lifting from my shoulders, I just had a conversation with Dr. Volkov about returning, and he's already granted permission for me so soon.

Jess's voice broke through my reverie, bringing me back to reality. "So, Liv," Jess nudged me with a grin, "how does it feel to be back on campus? Ready to dive into the world of art and creativity again?"
"It feels amazing, Jess," I replied, my excitement evident in my voice. "Being surrounded by all this creativity, it's like a breath of fresh air. I can't wait to immerse myself in it again."

"I can't believe Dr. Volkov actually allowed you to come back," she says with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

Jess's playful jab brought a flush of embarrassment to my cheeks. "Yeah, it was a bit surprising," I admitted with a sheepish smile. "But I guess he saw the importance of it for me."

"Speaking of Dr. Volkov, how was your romantic rendezvous with him" she teased, nudging me again with a knowing smirk.

I felt my heart begin to race and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but I couldn't help but laugh at Jess's playful jab. "Oh, come on, Jess," I replied, rolling my eyes. "It wasn't like that at all."

She smirked, her grin widening. "Sure, sure," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because I'm sure staring into each other's eyes and almost kissing is just a normal doctor-patient interaction."

Her playful banter brought a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "Okay, maybe it was a bit unexpected," I conceded, feeling my cheeks heat up. "But it wasn't anything like that. We were just... talking."

Jess raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Sure, Liv," she teased, nudging me again. "Just talking. With your faces inches apart and sparks flying."

I laughed, swatting her playfully. "Stop it, Jess," I said, unable to hide my grin. "It was nothing like that. We were just having a serious conversation... that happened to get a little, um, intense."
"Intense, huh?" she replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, I guess you two were just discussing the finer points of medical care... with your lips."

I couldn't help but laugh at her teasing. "You're impossible," I said, shaking my head. "But seriously, it wasn't romantic or anything like that. Just a moment of... unexpected closeness."

She chuckled, her playful demeanour easing the tension. "Whatever you say, Liv," she said, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "But if you ever need a wingwoman, you know who to call."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, Jess," I said, grateful for her light-heartedness. "But I think I'll manage just fine on my own."

As we stepped into our first class, the excitement in the air was palpable. The room buzzed with creativity as students chatted eagerly, exchanging ideas and sketching in their notebooks. Our teacher, Mr. Jenkins with vibrant purple hair that matched his eccentric personality, greeted me with a warm smile before diving into the day's lesson.

"Welcome back Alivia!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying a contagious enthusiasm. "I'm thrilled to see you back."

His words filled me with a sense of belonging, reminding me that I was stepping back into a community that embraced creativity and encouraged growth. With a grateful smile, I took my seat next to Jess.

He moved around the room, his eyes sparkling with excitement as she spoke. "Today, we're going to dive straight into the world of figure drawing. But first, let's warm up those creative muscles with a few quick sketches."

The room erupted into activity as students eagerly gathered their supplies and prepared to begin. Jess and I exchanged excited glances, our pencils poised and ready to capture the essence of the human form.

With a flourish, our teacher unveiled the model, who struck a dynamic pose at the front of the room. "Remember, it's not just about capturing the physical details," he reminded us. "It's about conveying emotion and energy through your sketches."

As the model held their pose, their sinewy muscles taut with exertion, I furiously sketched, my pencil racing across the paper like a sprinter on a track. The graphite scratched eagerly against the textured surface, each stroke an attempt to immortalize the momentary stillness of the model's form.

But as the class wore on, a gnawing frustration began to claw at the edges of my concentration. With each fleeting second, the model's grace slipped through my fingers like sand, leaving behind only jagged lines and misplaced shadows on my paper. My attempts to capture the fluidity of their movements felt like trying to grasp smoke—elusive and fleeting.

Despite my best efforts, my sketches remained stubbornly static, lacking the vitality and emotion that had drawn me to art in the first place. Each erasure felt like a concession, a defeat in the battle to translate the beauty before me onto the page. My hands trembled with frustration, smudging the graphite as I desperately sought to bridge the gap between what I saw and what I could express.

With each line redrawn, my frustration mounted, a relentless tide threatening to overwhelm me. The model's pose, once a source of inspiration, now taunted me with its unattainable elegance. My pencil hovered hesitantly above the paper, my mind consumed with doubt and self-criticism.

As the frustration reached its peak, I slammed my pencil down on the desk with a sharp crack, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the room. A surge of adrenaline pulsed through my veins, my chest heaving with the effort to contain the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me.

In that moment, Jess glanced up from her own sketchbook, her gaze locking onto mine. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the intensity burning within me, a flicker of something primal lurking beneath the surface. And then, as if a switch had been flipped, her expression transformed into one of awe and disbelief.

"Oh moon Goddess, Alivia," she whispered in a hushed tone, her voice barely more than a breath. "Your eyes."

Confusion washed over me as I felt a strange warmth suffuse my vision, an otherworldly glow emanating from within. I blinked in disbelief, uncertain of what was happening, but unable to tear my gaze away from Jess's astonished expression.