Beauty of the Moment

Remion watched the students, who started to eye and study the Human, who was looking at them with big eyes and shaking body. Of course, his students heard the rumours, as they were spreading like wildfire through the Empire. A lone scout that found a new species of potential slaves, only to be attacked by said species’ own star fleet. But, not before taking some specimens back to the Empire for studies. Most found their way into the hands of the government and military; some were given to scientist for studies. But Remion, through influence and a hefty sum, managed to acquire one of them for his own use. The use of art.
His students only reflected the zeitgeist of the Albnur, who were just as split in their reaction as the aspiring artists. Some were fascinated with these new Xenos. A freak of nature, almost identical in form to the Albnur. Only some innards, according to what the biologist who sold him the Female said, were different than theirs. Other, mostly more conservative people, saw them as an affront to their species. An insult to their perfection, that should receive not admiration nor investigation, but only extinction for their evolutionary hubris. Remion was of the former group, as he saw a need opportunity with the Humans for his kind of craft.
“In our society, murder of another person is seen as a crime. Rightfully so. Where would we be if our people would still kill and war with each other? Of course, such laws do not extant to Xenos. If it would, we wouldn’t be able to control them, work them and kill them for some exotic materials. You need to butcher an animal to feed yourself.”
Remion walked over to the site, near his desk, where a console was built into the floor. With a few button presses, the cage was lifted up to the ceiling and the Human was standing in the room intimidated.
“I am a Death-Artist. Just like you are aspiring to be. We work with the themes of Death and Life, the Body, and the Mind. We use materials like bones to create sculptures, we paint with blood, and we press the limits of the possible every day.”
Remion opened the drawer on his desk and pulled forth something, his students could not see, as he was hiding it behind his back.
“We try to capture the moment of Death, as well as of Birth. But it can be difficult, for our muses tend to be Xenos. Too hard to read real emotions in their alien visages. But this one…”
He stood behind the Human and pulled forth the knife behind his back. With one swift motion, he jammed the edge into the Females back, grabbing her by the shoulders to hold her in place. Her eyes widen and she tried to let out a cry, but nothing but a mute sigh came out.
Remion pulled out the knife and slit her throat, while her blood was still pumping. Some of the red liquid hit the students in the first row, who were looking at the scene with surprise. Letting the Human go, her dying body fell down, a pool of blood growing around it, gathering in the groove around the pedestal.
One of the students raised her hand to ask a question, but was cut down but Remion, who still stood over the body.
“Don’t! No distraction! What do you saw? What did you feel? The moment in her eyes…”
Slowly, the students started to understand and pull-out papers and pens, to start drawing on it. Remion’s heart was beating hard. Often has he killed lesser creatures, but never one so Albnur-like. It almost felt like murder.
“Remember the moment, the fall, the noises. Hold it on paper in your own way. Let your emotions in this moment influence your artistic choices and bring her back to life with your work. Let Death become beautiful and eternal!”
Only now did Remion step back. With interest he watched as the crimson red blood started to turn dark. According to the biologist, it would take on a brown hue over time of oxidation. Different to the Albnur’s colourless blood, which turn blue outside the body.
If only I could keep the red colour as it is, Remion thought to himself, looking at the crimson sun disappearing behind the city vista.

Remion rubbed his sullied hand vigorously under the running water of the atelier-sink, trying to get the lifeblood off his skin while his students were busy on their task. The scratching of pen on paper filled the room, together with the occasional rustling of parchment and that odd, metallic smell, Remion remembered from the lab’s morgue, where the other specimens were dissected.
His heart was still pounding of excitement. He would never admit such feelings before his students, but the slaughter of the Human brought him to new emotional heights, he has not felt since his early days as an artist. He killed many Xenos in his time, either as subjects or for material for his art, but none has felt so real like this one. The connection between Albnur and Human was so close, that it almost felt like murder one of his own. And that excited and disturbed him in equal parts.
It was not professional to drink at work, but Remion still helped himself to another glass of liquor, before making his rounds behind the student’s rows. He watched their efforts to interpretate and hold on to the moment of death, all of them have experienced before them. But never has it struct so close to themselves like this time. They would need and use those emotions to bring their pieces to life and one day maybe make more than just simple act-sketches.