Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private It's Time To Paint


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"I don't think it eats away. It's like.. If you didn't see the colors, would you understand how to miss seeing them?" It was a lot of how her life worked. She couldn't miss something she didn't know she had in the first place. Parents, family. At one point Iris must have had them, but she didn't remember. There wasn't even an echo or some lasting trace of who they might of been in her mind. No mementos, no lessons.

Asides from the fact that she'd need a mother to come from, there was no proof she even had one.

"I'm not sure. I don't think it's curious, but I've lived with it all my life."
 
Arcturus frowned a sad frown as he regarded her and her words.
"I have no recollection of mine, either," he stated plainly, moving to sit once more on that stoop he'd taken when first beginning to paint. "But I do feel an absence inside where they should be." A small sigh escaped him. He knew why that was, of course. "Perhaps we experience it differently, because the cause is different... I did know them, once, but the memories were taken from me. You simply didn't have them to begin with?"
Which was worse? No. He couldn't think of it in such a way, there was no competition for misery, there was no greater or worse when it came to loss and abandonment and loneliness, an absence of what so many took for granted. He turned his head away from her as grief washed over him, a prickling of tears he did not wish her to see. Foolish of him, in hindsight, to think that she would not take note all the same. He'd seen through her eyes, knew she'd see his grief plain as day.
Instinct bade him to shy from it all the same.
"You're an anomaly," he replied, softer this time. After a few moments to compose himself, he looked back toward her. "I mean that in the nicest way possible. What you see is not the norm. That makes you a curiosity. For me, at least... Any who would object doesn't understand the wonders they're missing out on." Curiosity was something of a drug, it pulled him on through life and left him aching for the next uncertain thread to present itself.
The boy who had learned little until his teenaged years had first begun had found himself hungering for all of it ever since.
 

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"No." No memories, only a wash of colors she couldn't see through. Not that she lingered on herself for long. The wave of blue that took over Arcturus Dinn Arcturus Dinn was an obvious sign that the subject upset him. An anomaly. Iris tilted her head at the term. Was she really that different from the others? Her colors were a world of her own, yeah. And no one else seemed to be able to see it.

Wow, maybe she should be more curious about others.

".. Do you feel better?"
 
No memories of the time before.
How Jedi and Sith could be so alike, yet so different... It was perplexing, yet all together not. They were all people deep down, and there was too much that connected them for their chosen paths to totally snuff out those similarities.
A moment of silence, during which he took back up the brush he'd earlier discarded into the paint. Paused as it hovered over the canvas once more. What was he to paint? He'd placed lines of hay and meadow grass here and there, knowing deep down what both of those colours were indicative of. But now his brush was barred with cornflower.
Delicate dots were set about the upper fifth of the canvas. Iris asked her question to him, and a sigh made itself his answer for a time. He did not look away from the splattered colours as he finally responded.
"Yes," he stated, even as he frowned at the sight of the image before him, "And no. Some things will not so quickly dissipate. But, such is life. Come... Why don't we try this painting thing again?" A distraction. It had proven a good distraction.
 

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She blinked, watching as Arcturus Dinn Arcturus Dinn picked up the brush again. To paint? Iris turned her gaze back to her own painting. She'd finished what she intended to paint, so.. She shrugged, unshouldered her pack again, and pulled out a new canvas. New supplies. New brush. "Okay." Then she was back to painting. Once more the swirl of colors, but brighter this time. Again drawing what she saw around her.

What she saw Arcturus as.
 
How long they sat there in relative silence, painting with only the general din of Coruscant's underbelly for external company, Arcturus could not say. He barely looked up from his canvas, and when he did it was only to make sure he had not somehow missed her departure. Not that he would keep her here, of course, she was her own entity and all things must come to an end. It was simply... nice to know.
Though his canvas might have appeared as something of a mess to any passersby, he had placed meaning behind each of the present strokes. Save for the slip up, of course, when he'd almost scrapped it entirely. But even that told a story. Time stretched on, and soon he was running out of paint and room on the canvas.
He set it aside, stretched out his limbs like some gangly, gaunt cat, and then rose with a popping of joints. It was crazy how easily one could watch a morning drift by. Even a morning as somber as this.
"Thank you," he stated, in sincerity. Picking the canvas back up, he approached her with it and set it down by her knee. "This is for you..." A brief pause, in case she had anything to say on the matter, then he turned and faced his surroundings. Not quite sure where it was his feet had even brought him to, but willing to unearth more of it now. Maybe he'd even manage a few steps before the dread sank in on him once more. Maybe he'd turn a few blocks before the grief became too much.
But she'd given him a morning of peace. That was more than he ever could have expected.
With little fanfare, the boy began to walk away. Maybe he'd see her again some day, maybe not. Either way he wouldn't fast forget her.
As for the painting, it was awash with the yellows of hay, and the greens of fresh meadow grass, Ishani Dinn Ishani Dinn incarnate scored across each stroke. And yet dotted throughout, in smaller yet all the same impactful and abstract smatterings, a cornflower blue which was something akin to Iris' own eyes.
 

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By the end she had two paintings. An almost before and after, abstract in nature as it always was with her. One of heavy dim blues, but a bright center within the silhouette of a person. The other, the same. But where the sad, dim blues had been there were pinks. Greens. Calm. Peace. Even happiness. Iris tilted her head as Arcturus Dinn Arcturus Dinn handed over his own painting to her though.

Why was he giving her the painting?

Rather than question it, she instead handed over her own to him. Both, with a faint smile on her face.

".. What's it like? Loving someone?"
 
He could not make so hastily a departure as he had planned to.
Where one canvas was handed over, two more were passed back; with them, a question. One which stopped him in his tracks, even as he had begun to turn and leave. Stopped him so dead in his tracks that he was still mid-step when he froze. Then that step faltered back to the ground, and he stared off into the shape of a doorway wrought into the side of one of the nearby buildings.
"Intense," was his immediate response. "All together slow and suspenseful, yet hasty and awkward."
It seemed as though he had little more to say on the matter, as he continued to turn toward the street. His eyes caught sight of the paintings on the canvases she'd handed him though, of those blues, and then the pinks, and the greens. For someone who had to ask, she'd done a good job depicting it in paint.
"It's giving over some level of control, and pieces of yourself; trusting another with the good, and the bad, and the wacky and indescribable. Mostly though, it's... Well, it's love."
 

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Iris nodded slowly, turning her gaze back to the painting Arcturus Dinn Arcturus Dinn had given her. More looking at the woman in the picture. So that's what she saw, then? Love? For the figure inside the picture? Who was.. Vaguely familiar. Wait. Did she know the person in the painting? Her gaze squinted for a moment, then she shrugged and turned her gaze back to the red haired man beside her.

Watching him. Closely. The colors around him.

"It's okay to be in love. Why not trust her?"
 
Arcturus sighed.
He did not want to have this conversation. Not now, especially, when everything was still so fresh and raw and painful. He closed his eyes, settled one canvas down so that he could free up his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. His back was still to her.
"What makes you assume it's a she?" he inquired, trying rather hopelessly to break some of the tension which had begun to bubble and boil within him once more. Arcturus had never known where he'd sat with such things until Ishani had come along, he'd never given it even a moment's thought. The idea of someone he had just met waltzing on by and making those assumptions of him was, quite frankly, perplexing.
In the end he decided it didn't matter.
"It isn't her I don't trust," he stated plainly. "And I'd ask that you pry no further. I enjoyed this, whatever it was, please don't sully it."
 

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Iris blinked, then turned her gaze back to the painting Arcturus Dinn Arcturus Dinn had given her. ".. This isn't a she?" Oh, maybe she'd assumed too much then. But there was no denying the colors she saw as he painted this. Whatever gender, the person in the painting had to be the one they missed. Oh, wait. It was a she. The Padawan turned her gaze back to him, nodding slowly. He was right. She shouldn't keep prying.

So instead she smiled and bowed her head.

"I hope you're able to figure it out, whatever the end it might be. You're a good person. .. And thank you." Watching him had set a lot more things in her mind. About how she felt, about her own problems or questions. "Be safe."
 
"Stay within the light," was all he said in way of parting, as he hefted up the canvas from the ground at his feet and made his way further along the street. In an instance he was gone, turned the next corner and into the endless oblivion of the ecumenopolis.
Gone in so many more ways than one.
Fin
 

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