escordvi | [closed] 🐺 i know you're somewhere out there

[Miriam definitely remembered hearing about that part! And she was more than a little curious. What would such a painting look like? Surely it wasn't just an elaborate photobooth.]

Of course! I'd love to- [Miriam stops, rethinking what she'd been about to say.] Well, see, though that might be a bit crass.

[Zack's about to be stoked to go. Get painted!!

But he pauses and raises an eyebrow.]

How do you mean?

Well...if I can see, but she cannot, that seems like a rude thing to bring up. That's all I meant.

[Salt in wounds, and all.]

Oh, yeah. I get that.

[Zack crosses his arms.]

But I think this is her pitch? She's the one offering the paintings despite being blind. She must have some trick to do it.

Yes, certainly.

[Miriam sighs once, collecting herself. But she's back to her usual self in a moment, hand lifting from her side.]

Let's be off.

[It wasn't terribly hard to find the painter; just find a district where nobles seemed likely to be and ask someone. The house they were pointed to was rather pretty, its walls still wreathed with stubborn flowers. The painter's studio was off to the side, through a quiet garden. An assistant greeted them at the door, and directed them to where a woman was preparing a blank canvas.]

"Some people have come to see you, madam." [The assistant said, quietly.] "Two of them."

[On the walk with Miriam Zack does have to wonder about what she said. Maybe he didn't get what she meant. But she seems okay with heading out with him so he lets it be. At least for now.

Once they arrive Zack realizes how fancy this place really is. A real noble's house.]

Wow. This place is snazzy.

[The assistant will guide them to their seats where the woman is sitting with her painter's easel, canvas and paints. She looks distant, her eyes foggy. And that makes Zack feel a little uneasy. Maybe Miriam was right. But despite that, the woman smiles softly and has her assistant bring her fresh canvas. She greets them with a soft voice.]

So, who should go first?

I'll start.

[Miriam stepped forwards first, carefully seating herself on the chair. After a moment she fiddled with how her scarf was hanging, and set her hands in her lap once she realized that likely wouldn't matter here. But she was used to sitting for pictures, photographs and otherwise. Hopefully this first session wouldn't take too long.]

"Hello, dear. Goodness, you've many things to paint." [The woman looked at Miriam, and...not, at the same time, as if she was seeing something just past the Shardbinder. Miriam immediately got the inkling something was behind her, but from the little surreptitious glances she made over her shoulder, there was only empty space there. Nothing was odd about her shadow, either. The painter didn't scold her for moving, already blocking out sections of canvas in blue and purple.]

"First, some direction. You have seen much. Where is home, to you?"

I- [Whoa. Launching right past smalltalk. Miriam blinked a moment, and readjusted herself.]

Well. I once didn't have a home. I suppose I don't have one again. The Alchemist's Guild would be most familiar to me, though...it's not the place it once was. For better or worse.

[The painter nods quietly, already inking in a remarkably well-defined replica of Miriam's roses.]

"Where was it you obtained the glass?"

[Glass...?

Oh.

Miriam's fingers twitched toward one of the marks inscribed on her arm, and she wasn't so quick to answer this time.]

...the same place, the Guild.

[Zack sits adjacent to Miriam. And for a moment he's a bit mesmerized by the painter's actions. Without even looking at Miriam she's starting to paint strokes of red and blue and even roses...

And he's curious what she says too. Able to point out the marks of glass on Miriam's skin. He hopes this isn't intrusive for Miriam. But he has to admit. He's curious.]

What's the glass about? [He asks gently.]

[Miriam let out a sigh through her nose, and while her voice is quiet, she still readily answers.]

It must be these. The...crystals bound to me.

[That wasn't all they were, but there was nothing else fitting that description on or near her. The big crystalline rose on her back was obvious, but she tapped at one of the little flowers on her arm anyway. It rang hollow as its glasslike appearance suggested, and the painter paused a moment to listen to the sound. But she doesn't interrupt, continuing after a moment to add detail to one of the roses. It had flecks of brighter blues and lilac in it, a bit like the rose on Miriam's back did. Had this lady heard about them before, somewhere...? There weren't any mirrors in here, and the assistant simply stood silently to the side, opening new paint containers for the artist's easel and closing others so they wouldn't dry out.

She stopped painting the rose, changing to a different set of paints before turning her clouded gaze in Zack's direction.]

"And you, sir? Where is home to you?"

[Zack is a little taken off guard by the question. Maybe because for a moment there he was still so focused on Miriam's words and the roses imprinted into her skin. He wonders how the painter is going to capture the story of those roses on the canvas. And he has to think that the roses look a little painful somehow. Even if they're gorgeous.]

Right. Uh. Wow, where do I start.

[He isn't sure where he calls home now. Or what home is. His hometown? Or where he spent most of his young adult life? Who knows.]

I grew up in a small backwater country town called Gongaga. I grew up there with my folks until I turned sixteen and moved into the big city to join the military.

[A pretty classic country boy story, he thinks.]

I guess my home was Midgar for a while after that.

[The painter seems pleased with this answer, her brush painting lines and colours that makes Zack extremely curious. And for a brief moment, he swears the lady looks right at him. Or really... right through him.]

"Lovely. And the both of you... How do you feel when you think about home or these places that you used to consider home?"

[Miriam listened almost as intently as the painter seemed to be; the names of the places were unfamiliar to her, but the history itself less so. Industry might have just started luring people to cities in her time, but military service had been uprooting people for ages before that.

She appreciated how honest he was, though. Perhaps she should have been more upfront, herself.

But the painter's next question made that a...more difficult prospect than Miriam anticipated. She didn't want to just drop the gloomy thoughts lurking in her mind in the middle of this room and leave, but she didn't want to be shallow and cagey. The Shardbinder had a feeling the painter could see far more than it seemed, if her comment about the Shards was any indication.]

For me, it's...complicated.

I am grateful the Guild took me in off the streets, gave me a place to live. [But a rare bit of anger floats to the surface, making it to Miriam's voice as her fingers tense.] I'll never forgive what they've done to me. To others like me.

[And then it drifted away, wrangled back under control. The Shardbinder's tensed hand relaxed, and she sighed quietly through her nose.]

But that's not my judgment to give any longer. The Guild was destroyed long ago, and the alchemists... [her voice momentarily goes a bit quieter, sadder, as she drops the s. There was just one now.] That remain, I bear no ill will to.

[Zack doesn't have much to hide. He's a fairly open person as it is and if he's asked about his past he has no issue with talking about it. Even the bad bits if the tone calls for it. It seems as though the painter knew how he would talk about his past because her brushstrokes are fast and easy with him. Zack wears his bleeding heart on his sleeve.

Zack will watch how she might paint Miriam's painting. Would it be different than his? Of course, they're very different people.

He'll glance at her and notice the change in her voice. Zack suddenly feels a little bad. If this is bringing up painful memories and all. He'll mouth the words, "Do you want to stop?" before he simply tries to answer his own painting's question.]

As for me? I never put my roots down anywhere. Home is where my heart is, and all that. As long as I'm doing something right for the people around me that's enough to call a place home.

[That makes the painter smile and she starts picking up some brighter colours for Zack's painting.]

[Miriam caught the glance and the mouthed words; she stopped fidgeting with the crystal and shook her head. She'd be okay. This was just...a lot for her to unpack, and it was her mind. It must sound worse to others.

The painter gave her space to breathe, though; after she painted in Zack's half of the canvas, she returned to Miriam's once more.

The painted rose had started close-knit, but it didn't stay that way as Miriam told her story. The next petals began to swirl and spiral outwards, letting go of their roots and opening up as she did. Some were hard and sharp-edged, like pieces of glass. Others were softer, like proper flower petals. The silhouettes of people went on those; still abstract shapes, nothing in detail.]

"Thank you both. This next part will require some concentration, and I'm afraid I won't be much for conversation. There is a sitting room you may use instead."

[Miriam nodded, and stood; the assistant opened a side door and waved them inside. It was comfortably appointed, too--but its main decoration was the great number of paintings adorning the walls. Some were portraits, some of places, some...were too abstract for her to really make sense of. All full of stars and oddly chosen colors, and the like.]

...I haven't really talked about that sort of thing, before. To...others, who didn't know already, anyway. [There was always the next mission ahead, the next task to do. Never enough time to rest and think.] I hope it didn't trouble you.

[Her expression didn't appear particularly distressed, or upset; mostly just...thoughtful.]

[Honestly, Zack is glad for the break in the session. It looks like they both could use a break. He nods and follows Miriam to the sitting room to wait for the final results. It's a little eerie if he's honest. Just how accurate those colours and shapes started to look.]

No, it wasn't trouble. Not at all. I was just worried that it was hitting a little too close to home, as they say.

[Zack wouldn't want to push her to bring up old memories if she wasn't ready for it. But it's made Zack curious about her.]

From what I saw your painting was coming out pretty abstract. And really pretty.

[He doesn't know much about how to describe a painting. But if it's a painting of the soul he would have to say it was pretty.]

[Miriam brightened a bit at the last thing he said, regardless.]

Thank you. Yours was, too.

[The thoughtful look returned to her expression, and her voice followed.]

I wonder how she knew about... [She raises the arm with the visible rose on it.] Do you think the assistant told her?

[It was a bit of a walk to get here after they'd made it onto the property, and Miriam didn't hide her crystals overly much; he easily could have seen them coming early.]

Yeah, that's a good question. It's a pretty specific thing to know about.

[Zack crosses his arms in thought.]

The whole thing is supposed to be about how she can paint what's in our souls or something, right? Maybe she's got some sort of magic that can tell those kinds of things.

...I suppose this would prove it, then. These Shards are a part of me, even that far...

[The latter part is spoken almost as a solemn question, as if she was just now realizing it herself. In a way, Miriam was; she knew being grafted with these things changed Shardbearers, her thoughts once following that path down to somewhere dark and monstrous.

Gebel had shaken her out of it, out of thinking herself a monster. It was his words she clung to still. It wouldn't do justice to his memory to let herself slide back now.

Still, Miriam ran her thumb over that rose again, the weight of the other crystals on her body feeling acute, heavy.]

A beautiful curse.

[A moment, then--she remembered Zack's presence all at once. The man took up a lot of space, it should have been hard to forget him. But Miriam had a lot on her mind, and someone she felt at ease talking to.]

Ah--sorry. I'm rambling.

[Zack shakes his head.]

Nah, it's okay. I don't mind listening.

[He can't say he entirely understands her situation but he wouldn't think she's rambling because of it. He wants to understand properly. This curse of hers is somehow a part of her and something that she's had to accept. It must be a lot.]

All I know is no matter what you think that curse of yours is, you're still you. You're still good. The painting's going to prove it too.

[This time Miriam looked up, and stopped fidgeting with the Shard mark on her arm.]

That's what Gebel would say to me to cheer me up, too. Thank you.

[The gloom vanished from her expression, and she smiled again.]

What do you think yours is going to be?

Then if two people have said it, it must be true.

[Zack smiles easily and gives her a wink. Just as she asks her question the attendant seems to come out with their final products. So, Zack guesses before he takes the painting canvas.]

I'm guessing it's going to be something like a cartoon picture of a dog, to be honest. You don't wanna know how many times people have called me, "Zack the puppy" and crap like that.

[He laughs. And then once he pulls the canvas back- It appears to be a very beautiful picture of a man's profile. It's filled with vibrant swirling colours but there's a dark shadow over the man's face. And in the background appears to be a broken white wing.]

That's interesting...

[And maybe a little too spot on.]

[closed] 🐺 i know you're somewhere out there

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