for mayfield

[treefetish]

1 [Drone school is boring, which is why Audrey has decided to play hooky and spend the day playing in her favorite place in the whole wide Mayfield: The park!

Hanging off a tree branch by her legs, she gives an upside-down smile and waves at you, whoever you are.] Hey!

2 [Obviously, one of Audrey's regains would be some big cans of O'Hare brand paint, which she will use in the most constructive way possible: Brightening up that dreary old house she lives in!

She's almost finished with the first part of her sunny sky, leaning rather precariously on the edge of her ladder. Just need to paint that one little corner and not fall off and die...]

Comments

[treefetish]

[She turns around at the voice and waves at him. Hi! Unfortunately, this was the hand that was keeping her from plummeting to her doom. It is no longer performing this action.

She is now plummeting to her doom.]

[truffulacide]

[oh. who could've seen that coming?

it's a good thing that he's barely a couple inches away from the ladder so, in her case, plummeting to her doom is synonymous with "falling right into Once-ler's arms". it's by no means a smooth transition; he has to lunge forward to catch her. thankfully, he doesn't stumble or fall flat on his butt in the process, so there's that.]

Nnh. Movies make this look so easy. [he exhales loudly, then looks down at her.] You okay?

[treefetish]

Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that, Mr. Once-ler! [No way you could get mad at this face. Look at this face.]

[truffulacide]

[scowl] You should be! What would've happened to you if I hadn't been around, huh?!

[he might actually look intimidating if he wasn't still awkwardly holding her. when he realizes this and finally shifts to drop her gently on the ground, his cheeks are red and he looks even more irritated.]

You could've been a smear across the lawn! A red and orange pancake!

[treefetish]

But you were, and I'm not, so everything's okay! [so calm yo tits]

[truffulacide]

[he crosses his arms and briefly glances over at the mural she was working on. frustration gives way to sulky petulance, which is in itself a good sign. means he's not really all that angry anymore.]

Maybe for a space cadet like you. Me? I like living in the real world, thanks.

[treefetish]

Maybe that's why you're so high-strung all the time.

[She catches the glance and smiles.] Do you like it?

[truffulacide]

High-strung? Me? I think you're talking about someone else.

[he doesn't reply for a few minutes and instead turns to look back at the fake sunny sky she's painted. he plants one hand on the side of his hip and cocks his head, taking it in with a quiet hmmmm.]

...The clouds need to be fluffier. [he says it frankly and bluntly like this should be painfully obvious.]

[treefetish]

How much fluffier? [After all, her clouds are all smog and smoke and smogulous smoke. She's deferring to his expert opinion here.]

[truffulacide]

Well, what you have on the wall there are just a bunch of wispy things. Clouds are bigger - 'bout this big - and much puffier, like someone took a bag of cotton balls and -

[he just stops, dimly aware that all he's doing is just making flaily, wild gestures. that's no way to make a point.]

...Just give me that brush. It'd be easier if I showed you. [he holds out his hand.]

[treefetish]

[She seems a bit tentative about it-- after all, she'd spent the whole morning working on this... But, she hands it over.]

[truffulacide]

[he takes the brush, noting that it still has some white paint on it. however, instead of making any move to walk over to the ladder and wreck all of her hard work, he simply takes her by the hand and turns her palm over.]

This is how I draw 'em. [the brush hovers over her hand before descending and gently swiping over it in small, circular motions. nothing too big - it's just a small example, after all.] The kind of clouds that show up on a sunny day are always fluffy like this. There's nothing wrong with how you do it, but if you want them to look more realistic and big, just move the brush like this.

[he repeats the motion on other parts of her palm and, before she knows it, she'll have a row of tiny, puffy little clouds dotting her hand.]

See? Easy.

[treefetish]

[She watches with wide-eyed wonder as he does it, examining her palm closely when he's done.] Wow!

[She looks up at him.] I didn't know you could paint.

[truffulacide]

I can, but I like sketching more. [he shrugs his shoulders a little sheepishly.] I have more control over a pencil than a brush.

[just admitting that makes him feel inadequate, like he's making an idiot out of himself lecturing her, so he hands her the brush back and takes a few steps back to admire the rest of the "sky".]

Are you going to make the rest of the house like this?

[subject change, go.]

[treefetish]

I'd like to; I used to paint my house back home like this, too. I just don't know what to paint next. [She'd like to paint some trees, but... well. She feels like it'd probably be rude.]

[truffulacide]

It could use some color. Ugh...! [he heaves a great big sigh and plops down on the grass, an entire day's worth of exhaustion and frustration catching up with him.] Anything to make it stand out from the rest of the houses. This whole neighborhood is so boring.

[treefetish]

At least now we won't walk into the wrong houses by accident. [she says "we" as if it's not something that she just does

... Well, she might as well try.] I could paint... some trees? Maybe?

[truffulacide]

[he drapes a hand across his face.] Pretty sure you're the only one with that problem.

[- but it doesn't last. his shoulders visibly tense up when he hears what she has to say next, and he spreads his fingers so that one lone blue eye can peek out between them at her.]

Trees? Like...tree-trees? [as if there's any other kind. he drops his hand off his face and turns his head towards her with a thin, perplexed frown.] Why?

[treefetish]

They're my favorite things to paint. [She gives him a nervous smile, a little worried about his reaction.]

[truffulacide]

[oh. that's a general enough statement. really, she could just be talking about the generic oak trees around town. everyone thinks of those kinds of trees when they hear the word, right? that's a simple enough assumption.

too bad he knows better.]

Whatever you want. [the reply is short and simple but dull. worn.] If it makes you happy.

[and then he starts climbing to his feet. time to go inside.]

[treefetish]

I won't paint them if you don't want to see them.

[She sighs, looking at the little clouds on her hand again.] ... It was stupid of me to ask, sorry.

[truffulacide]

I never said that. You think I would've given you the go-ahead if I thought that?

[he pauses right as his hand hovers above the doorknob, forcing an eye-roll.]

Just...maybe one or two. Small ones. [he measures one such example with his thumb and index finger.] About this big.

[treefetish]

... [She measures a similar distance with her own fingers.] This big. Got it.

[truffulacide]

Exactly. [a beat.] ...And make sure to make the tufts extra fluffy-looking, too. Use lots of pinks and yellows. I won't support graffiti if it doesn't look at least 90% accurate.

[treefetish]

I'll try to shoot for 95% accuracy. [She can't help but smile.] They'll look great. Trust me.