lifeaftr | i know it's just a number but you're the eighth wonder [ OPEN MINGLE ]

i know it's just a number but you're the eighth wonder [ OPEN MINGLE ]

Who: Tim and EVERYBODY WHO WANTS IN ON THIS CAUSE IT A MINGLE
What: Nail-painting. Destressing. We have earned something Nice for ourselves.
When: February 12th
Where: Just outside the Storyteller's Temple
Warnings: Probably nothing of note? Will add if needed.

There's a man sitting cross-legged outside the Storyteller's Temple, general hub of interaction that it seems to be turning into. He still looks like shit, granted, his face a colorful patchwork of bruising and a fresh bandage slapped around his middle, but that hasn't stopped him from making the best of things. A few vials of some various colorful fluids might not be familiar to everyone here, but after everything? Screw it, thinks Tim. They've deserved a break. He deserves a break. The kids here, especially, deserve a break. It's time to celebrate the fact that they are no longer in danger of freezing in the dark and living out the remainder of their days in a bleak, sunless existence.

And he liked colors, as a kid. In the blank white walls of a hospital, where everything was drained of variation and bleached white and left bone-blank, the occasional bursts of color allowed in packages of crayons and colored pencils at art time were treasures. They stopped giving him crayons after he drew the man in his room one too many times, a tall black shadow in the back of every drawing that had the doctors exchanging looks with tightened jaws and the clearing of throats that too clearly spoke to their disapproval.

It dogged him, even once he stepped out of those empty walls, his wardrobe as consistently drab and dull and monochrome as his life. It dogged him with featureless rooms and

Fuck that.

Fuck that especially, because it means that kids like Ren grew up without colors in their lives, and it means that they've had precious few simple little pleasures in the past month, and it means that they are all owed a goddamn break. And if he's bound to be a freak no matter what he does, he may as well be one with a spot of color or two.

So today, to celebrate? We're painting nails.

Fuck it. We're painting nails.

It's safe to say that Tim's new at this, particularly when he only has one good hand at the moment, but he'll still seem quite open to sharing with whoever happens along - especially if you're a kid.

[ooc: yes this is a mingle for painting some nails feel free to top-level all over]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's not a test, you know. I'm asking what you want because they're your nails.

[On any other day, Connor would probably take the easy way out and take Shion at his word to do what was easiest. Today, Tim's told him the point is for people to get nice things and unfortunately, Connor knows it sucks to get what someone else thinks you want, rather than what you actually want. So, he holds out his hand and speaks in a softer, gentler manner that is incongruous with the stand-offish way he normally presents himself.]

I can just do whatever I want, dealer's choice, if that's easier for you? But I don't want you to say that because you're afraid you're asking for too much. I will gladly fucking sit here all day and do your nails, okay? This is like my favorite things to do in the entire world and I have literally nothing better to be doing.

[Not a test. Breathe Shion. Not a test and they were his nails. His nails. His actual nails probably and not just wire and illusion. He blinked at Conner as he held out his hand.

His breathing slows as he calms down, as the words get through to him. His eyes filled with tears but he blinked those away because Connor is being so nice and definitely doesn't deserve Shion crying at him. Another deep breath, his own hand comes out to meet Connors.] Okay

[A grateful smile] Can you do both hands, please? [His voice is a little stronger now. He sounds more sure of himself. And grateful for Connor's kindness.]

Edited 2018-02-15 14:02 (UTC)

Abso-fucking-lutely. Do you want these colors in a particular order? Like, is there a meaning behind them or are they just your favorites?

[He used to do that, occasionally. Pick colors because they had meanings to him, spell out messages no one understood before he learned to be self-conscious about what was and wasn't okay for boys. Before he switched over to black, because the color had gone out of his life and his nails shifted to match.]

[His smile comes stronger this time] No any order is fine [He's sort of relieved at the question because it meant his choices weren't weird. That he wasn't supposed to have chosen colours that were good together or something equally as mystifying. He points to the grey first]

That's the colour of my... [A pause because he really doesn't know how to refer to Rat. Friend doesn't sound enough for all that Shion feels about him but there are no words in Shion's vocabulary for a person you love who pretty much thinks you are a pathetic weakling and doesn't even acknowledge you as a friend and who you haven't even seen in over a year and a half and that was a him from a different world.]

The person I lived with on my home world. His eyes. I forgot what colour they were exactly... but someone who had met him told me they were grey.

[He points at the blue next] Blue is for my sisters eyes, Xion. [Because he might have met her, if he had he would know how amazingly blue her eyes were, red is next.] This is for... in the world I was in before I woke up here... Reno... He taught me... His hair was this colour. The purple...

[A wireframe filled with purple liquid, lit by the glow of the soul within it, keyblade in hand. Defiant. A purple filled wireframe, hand on a glass wall, a promise.] Is for my sister as well. [He leaves it at that, explaining would be too much.]

My sister's favorite color is purple. Indigo, actually.

[It's weird to talk about her casually. He doesn't - a lot of the anger he'd felt towards his family has faded away, so it's easy to talk about Zoe like they're close. Like he knows anything about her anymore.

The placement of the colors is apparently up to him, so he paints Shion's index finger purple, puts the red on the middle finger, and does the ring finger blue. The gray seems to be the most important, so Connor does both the thumb and pinkie in it - like he might have done with blue if he was doing his own nails. The strokes are quick and sure, like he barely has to think about what he's doing.]

Gimme your other hand and try not to touch anything with that one while it dries.

You have a sister too? [His voice is gentle. He's aware he's probably in potential painful territory here. Unless his sister was also here on these islands he probably misses her.

He watches as his nails are transformed. Paint turning plain slightly grubby fingers into flecks of colour. He wonders how this art form even existed. Who had seen fingernails and decided they needed paint. He swapped hands and held the first steady. Careful not to touch anything. He smiled at the boy again and realised something.] Oh I don't know your name.

Edited 2018-02-16 14:30 (UTC)

Connor. You can call me CJ, if you want. [He pronounces it "siege," rather than as discreet letters.] It's . . . a nickname my sister gave me.

[Before they irreparably drifted apart. He used to think about what he'd do, if Zoe showed up, but with how poorly meeting Evan went Connor would just - he doesn't want to see anyone else from home, really. It'd probably suck and he'd ruin it.]

What's, uh. What's your name?

Ceej [Shion nodded with a smile.] I'm Shion. [Yes that was pronounced identically to how he had said his sisters name.] Have you been here a long time? [On the islands he means, not painting nails, the Connor had said he would happily sit painting nails all day]

[It strikes him as a little bit weird that they'd be siblings and have the same name, but Connor's always been a firm proponent of the belief that family is what you make, not who you share blood with. They might not be strictly blood-related, the way he and Zoe are. They might be family because they share the same name.]

A few months - three storytellings might be a better way to mark time. [Connor looks down, painting Shion's other hand in the same pattern as the first.] You new? I haven't seen you around.

[He doesn't talk to people often, but he instinctively catalogs the ones he sees when he wanders. Connor knows the people who have been around at storytellings, who have shared things he didn't really want to know, and he can't count Shion among them. It's possible, maybe, that he's missed him somehow but that doesn't seem likely.]

[Shion understood the difficulty in keeping time. It had been hard in the tower as well, even with the countdown clock on every terminal in the final year. But at least each new month had been marked by a different administrator taking charge, a new menu if there was food at all. Some different game or experiment to survive.

He knew of the storytellings from the weird dream and the little bit Xion had told him. If they were regular than Connor's way of telling time seemed like a sensible one. Three storytellings, three months. That was longer than Xion.

He nodded when he realised Connor had asked him a question] I woke up here a couple of weeks ago. I haven't been to a storytelling yet. I haven't met all that many people yet.

Don't touch anything with that hand either.

[He doesn't think Shion will, but it bears repeating. Connor's hands disappear into his poncho for a moment before he pulls out an obviously self-made paintbrush made for detail work. The handle appears to be whittled from a branch of some sort, and the bristles are . . . suspiciously similar in color to Connor's own hair.]

If you want to meet people, hanging out here helps. People are always writing on the rock, so there's a lot of foot traffic.

I won't. [No touching anything with either hand. He can manage that. He instead watches Connor closely noting the brush. It's clearly handmade, Shion notes the hair. Connor is clearly clever and resourceful to think of making such a thing.

He files the information away. That here was a good place to meet people, a place where many people came...] To write on the rock?

[Connor gestures in the direction of the mana pool with his left hand. There's a large, hexagonal rock over there with chalk writing scribbled all over it, because that's what passes for a network here. He doesn't mind, because he lives in front of a mana pool, but.]

The rock over there. You can write messages on it - sixth side is for trading announcements and stuff, so if the other five are full just erase whatever looks oldest.

[A rock to write messages and announcements on. A bit like... Actually he had nothing to compare it to, everything in No.6 was computerised, West Town had no such thing and the Tower had a computer network but he understands the concept.] Oh... that's good to know. It's a clever idea.

[Clever for someone to work a way round the fact that mass communication was pretty impossible in a place like this]

Yeah. I think someone bought it with stories? It just kind of showed up one day.

[Connor's trying to freehand rats in nail polish on his paper. It starts out kind of . . . interesting, but they get more recognizable as he goes.]

I don't use it that often, but if you ever see someone using blue chalk, it's probably me.

Blue chalk [He nods with another smile, he will go and have a look later and see what information he can find from the rock. For now he leans slightly so he can see what Ceej is drawing better. He is careful not to touch anything though.] How did you learn art?

[People learn art right? That's a thing? For the most part two and a half years out of his world and months before that out of No.6 have made Shion mostly able to understand the arts, literature, music. But he still says art like what he means is magic.]

[Connor actually pauses and looks up, mid-rat that's now kind of turning into a weird splotch. He doesn't actually know how to answer the question - there's the easy answer, of course, which is that he learned to get a merit badge. There's the truer answer, which is that his therapist had suggested it might be a good outlet.

Neither of them is the right answer, really, and Connor's trying to learn how to be truthful about things.]

. . . There's a book where I'm from about a planet where only one lonely prince lived with his rose. [Connor looks back down, starts a new rat.] It's famous for the illustrations that go with the words - kind of like a storybook, I guess, only not really. Anyway, it's my favorite book and I used to draw the prince on everything when I was younger so eventually, my mom got me into an art class.

[He shrugs. There's more to the story, of course. Connor wanted to be an artist at one point, wanted to go to art school to learn illustration or painting maybe, but that dream died a long time ago. Now, the only thing he really paints is his nails.]

After that point, it was all hard work and practice.

[A planet where only one lonely prince lived with a rose. Shion had never read it, which wasn't surprising. Despite the enthusiasm with which he had devoured books in West Town and the Tower it had still been in between everything else and he doubts that anyone, not even someone like Rat could read all the books in all the worlds.]

You must have worked really hard to get this good. [Hard work and practice, so like most things then. Though he must have been somewhat good to start with if he drew the prince on everything before he even went to art class.]

Did the prince ever meet any other people or.. leave his planet? Or did he stay lonely with the rose? [Because it sounds like a really sad book, being the only person on a whole planet. Shion knows what that is like, and it's awful. More awful than words.]

Nobody very nice, at first. There was the vain king, the sad drunkard, the greedy businessman, the useless lamplighter, and the pompous geographer. Then, the prince came to Earth and met a fox.

[Connor turns the paper he's been painting on towards Shion. He's drawn the prince and the fox in black while he's been talking. If he's going to tell this story, he's going to do it properly.]

The prince tamed the fox, but they had to part ways. Eventually, after traveling for many days, the prince met an aviator whose plane had crashed and made friends with him before returning home to his rose.

[Turning the paper again, Connor shows Shion the prince and the rose.]

. . . I used to look up at the stars at night when I was little and try to find the one the prince lived on, hoping he would come be my friend.

[A vain king, a sad drunkard. And a fox. It made sense to Shion that the princes first friend would be an animal. Animals were easier to make friends with than people.

He studies the nail paint drawing with a smile and listens intently as Ceej continued the story, he returned to his rose at the end? Shion wondered why after he had met people and made friends why he would return. He reaches out and almost touches the paper, the drawing of the prince and the rose. It is a beautiful picture, even done in black nail paint. He remembers that Ceej told him not to touch anything and pauses hand hovering.

He blinks at him when he says the last, because that is sweet and sort of sad. His hands move, but he doesn't touch Ceej either. No touching anything.]

Instead you were the one who ended up in a different world, like the prince. Have you made friends here?

Tim - [Connor glances over to where Tim is, expression complicated.] Tim's my friend.

[That's the only person he interacts with where he can say for sure the feeling is probably mutual. He's never actually had a friend before, though, so he's not entirely sure if he's allowed to say that without Tim saying it in so many words? Muffet might also be his friend, but he . . . That one is more complicated. Gabe is definitely not his friend. Gabe is more like a shitty younger brother he never wanted.

That just left Evan, really, and that. That's an even more complicated thing than Muffet. He doesn't want to touch that one with a ten foot pole, so he holds out his hand. If you don't want to deal with something, the easiest answer is to avoid it.]

The hand I did first is probably dry. Lemme have it back and I'll do your rats.

[Shion glanced over at Tim as well. Tim seemed nice from the little bit that Shion had spoken to him.] Tim's nice, I'm glad he's your friend.

[He's glad Connor has a friend even if Connor doesn't sound too sure. Also he's glad Connor asked for his hand to paint rats on because otherwise he would have probably reached out to hold it anyways. As it was he put his hand on top of Connor's and smiled again softly.]

Yeah. He's . . . a good guy.

[The way Connor says it seems a little bit like those are not the exact words he wanted to say. He doesn't elaborate, though, instead dipping his brush into black again and drawing a rat on Shion's thumb.]

Try not to move that into anything, or it'll smudge.

[Which is the only warning Shion gets before Connor proceeds to paint rats on the rest of Shion's nails.]

Okay. [He keeps his hand as still as he can watching in fascination as Connor paints rats. They are amazing, it is magic. Connor had said he could sit and paint all day and Shion could happily sit and watch, see the paint form into pictures.

He stays silent when Connor is painting, not wanting to distract him. He's not sure how much concentration painting takes. When the fifth rat is done he smiles brightly] Thank you, they're amazing.

It's not a big deal. If anything, I should be thanking you - I don't get to do this very often on other people and it gets kind of boring to do it on yourself all the time.

[Connor tucks his hair behind his ear, because he's just barely getting used to the idea that anything he does is useful or worthwhile. People keep encouraging him, here. People are . . . nice? He's still not sure how to handle that.]

Honestly, if you ever want me to do your nails again I live in the monkey compound - your sister probably knows where that is, if you don't.

i know it's just a number but you're the eighth wonder [ OPEN MINGLE ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)