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WHO: welt yang (

indwelt) & kaveh (

fussiest)
WHAT: art inspiration strikes at the strangest of times
WHERE: around town
WHEN: august
WARNINGS: n/a so far

[ For a week or so, all the free time is a blessing. Welt fills it to the brim each day, taking his time to explore as much of his newfound (and hopefully temporary) home as he can. All the various stores that line the streets, the statues that dot the city park, the subway lines that lead him back to the same spot every time.

After awhile though, it gets old. The same places, the same things, the same people....perfectly nice people, to be fair, but not the people he's grown to trust over the years, both the family he's made back on Earth as well as aboard the Express. The abrupt separation from the people closest to him - for the second time - leaves a pang in his heart, though he's quick to chase it away. No point in bemoaning what's already done. Better to look ahead, and to liven up his surroundings and routine—or so March would say, he's pretty sure. Why not take a page from her book, while he's here?

How did it go again? He can still hear her voice in his mind clear as day, ringing out through the air as she instructs him on exactly what to do. Lean forwarn just a little bit, with extra weight on his cane. Push his glasses up a touch, to reflect the light. And then tilt his head to the left....or wait— ]

Was it more to the left...?

[ Maybe a kind stranger passing through could offer up some suggestions as he stands there awkwardly in the city park.... ]

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[ day two's really haven't been as bad ever since kaveh hit the fabled day five mark some two weeks ago and hasn't looked back since. it's the feeling that if you've survived worse, nothing below an eight on a ten-point scale ought to give you any more kind of grief, or at least complaining rights. all this would be a lot more palatable if kaveh also didn't have the fragments of a shattered diadem belonging to his father's murderer sitting all easy in his pocket, but sometimes you couldn't have everything. much like a city where automation has stamped out much of the common errors in hand-made goods, it has also carefully excised anything resembling individuality, and isn't that just the perfect analogy for the city that they're currently trapped in like rats in a bucket?

... alright, perhaps kaveh is a little sore, and day two isn't helping. but in kaveh's defense, sleep never comes easily. it never did, and it never ought to. and so if his mind will not cooperate, kaveh turns to, as he always does, to busying his hands. oil paints for don quixote, carefully selected for their pigment and the way kaveh likes or doesn't like the feeling of their glide across heavy duty paper, a smoothing plane to check the measurements on his new drafting table frankensteined from several, disparate tables to create something heavy enough to handle the kind of work that tends to happen on it, the tending to a mint plant to see if anything truly grows from seed in this city all the way to mulling over alhaitham's new language in case the inception of something new and unheard in this city will create a native language for a city without identity.

he is carrying several buckets of paints in a rumbling little trolley painted as red as a liyuen sunset as he considers the issue on hand while amending two side-schematics with the tip of his pencil, flipping between the pages back and forth on his sketchpad. kaveh's feet take him right down the street and past the lamppost. seconds later, kaveh's feet retrace his steps. the red of his eyes find and land on the way a man is currently standing there. silhouetted by lamplight from two different angles, shadows criss-crossing in a dramatic rendition that wouldn't be out of place in one of yae publishing house's light novel covers, kaveh looks. then, he scrambles to pick up his pencil from where he'd dropped it, rolling towards the grassing knoll, and then jogs away from where he's left seven buckets of housepaint so he can call out: ]

Wait! Ah - you there! The one in the glasses!

[ for emphasis, kaveh holds up his pencil. his sketchpad rifles through to a blank page with the sure touch of a hand used to doing such things and sometimes while on the run. ]

Don't move!

[ No, no, to the left doesn't feel right, and Welt's in the middel of retipping his head back to the right when—

A voice slices out through the air, the command so robust that he can't help but freeze instantly in place, eyes widening behind the lenses of his glasses and shoulders hiking up half a centimeter in alarm. The voice itself is unfamiliar but the tone itself isn't, and a slew of memories of tumble back into his mind as he stands stockstill in place. Nothing like growing up in the company of two extremely self-assured and bossy women to instill a subconscious response to obey in a man.

Though, once that reflex has worn off, Welt can't help but try and slide his gaze over to catch a better glimpse of his impromptu company. ]

Sorry, but who are you? Do you need something from me?

[ Other than needing him to stand still. ]

[ his sketchpad flies open. the blank page affords a canvas upon which kaveh's pencil begins carve through the air, etching graphite from theoretical image into reality. he's already sketched by the time he skids to a stop at the bottom of the hill, fingers deft, and light, and sure as he builds the general components he needs to cement the image to reality later: blocky shapes, lean lines of connection, and careful guidelines for the way the shadows had fallen.

three sources of light, careful interplay of shadow and form. kaveh's breath seethes between his teeth on a spiraling day two as he reaches up with his pencil to absently poke at the loose red clips holding back his hair, still-sliding down the length of his exposed neck. ]

Me? I'm an architect. I mean, I'm Kaveh; we're now met. And I'd like to you stay still, [ a moment, and then, kaveh remembers: ] please. [ his still-sketching pencil grows metaphorical wings. in a single, fevered breath: ] You had the most delightful form. The way three different sets of shadows fell isn't something that you can get just by intentional modelling. I've been looking for something like you to sketch. You don't mind, right?

[ Does he mind? Past the initial burst of surprise, no, not that much. He's used to being the recipient of any number of excitable requests by now; the fact that this time is from a grown man rather than a small child is the only difference (and honestly, shouldn't be much of a difference at all). If there's anything he doesn't particularly like, it's how long he has to remain in this pose. Think of his old man bones, please.

Still, he can't exactly fault a fellow artist for wanting to capture a moment before it vanishes entirely. IIf he can do his part in brightening someone's day while he's here, then why not? ]

No, I suppose not. [ Why does he sound so resigned about this… ] But certainly there are better models to be found around here? After all, there are so many people in this city with us, with far more striking appearances and personalities.

[ Some of them can probably pose better than he can too!! ]

[ that's definitely Some Resignation. suddenly, kaveh feels as well of empathy spring. that's the kind of resignation one might affect if you're tighnari, and kaveh has brought the tenth confounding plant-related to your door unprompted with the sheepishness of someone who doesn't quite regret what they did, but also could you please resolve it?

it has him looking up with something first like surprise, and then with a curl of a smile that manages to be just a little nostalgic. ]

Striking appearances and personalities? That remains to be seen - but striking poses? Not even close. [ haha... striking poses... get it... oh no, cyno would be proud. ] I promise I'll be quick.

[ where's the pun police to come arrest kaveh

Just kidding, that terrible joke is (unfortunately) right up his alley....when you're an old man with old man humor. It's enough to tug a smile onto his face, which honestly does not go well with the current pose he's striking but surely Kaveh can use a bit of artistic license and edit in a mood-appropriate frown. ]

You mean you don't usually flag people down, requesting to paint their likeness? [ Or sketch, as the case may be. ] You'll have to thank someone else for this striking pose though. I'm afraid I didn't come up with it on my own.

[ Despite having animated eight years worth of action mecha anime....hm. ]

[ tighnari bursts in through the wall

welt smiles. kaveh looks. the minute tuck of a stowaway seed of just-laughter along the corners of his lips, kaveh thinks. it morphs the hard, long lines of his face with the three-point shadow that wouldn't look out of place on the cover of a light novel put out by the yae publishing house into something softer, something speaking to the personality of a man with a warm laugh when given the opportunity to do so. kaveh considers this, and carefully pens from memory the downward severity of the man's countenance, but keeps the other image in mind as well. you couldn't not look at it, without understanding a man's humanity.

still, kaveh's eyebrows flit up at that. there's finally rue here as his pencil unapologetically scribbles its way across the page. ]

I, um. Don't, actually - this is not the first, but it is rare. I am sorry, for what it's worth, but you're taking this with more grace than what I probably would have envisioned, so I might be taking advantage. [ kaveh considers this. ] Of you, and the person who came up with this pose. Is it alright if I asked who it is?

[ ... ] That's not a minefield question, is it?

[ After 80-odd years of life, a marriage and an adoption and three deaths, and then getting whisked away into space by a clone of your worst enemy, you get used to strange occurrences like people asking to sketch you on the street. And besides, better to get taken advantage of for something benign like a drawing than something abundantly more seriously like blowing up the world.

Truly it's the little things! But since he can't move, all he can do is offer his reassurances through a small smile. ]

Oh, not at all. I traveled with a girl named March before this.

[ Should he be revealing his companions' names like this willy-nilly to strangers on the street? Probably not, but given March's predisposition to open her mouth and exclaim the first thought that pops into her head, it really only would have been a matter of time before she'd gone and gotten herself into trouble even without his help. ]

She has quite the active imagination and a childlike curiosity about many things. I daresay I learned more from her than she learned from me.

[ For...many reasons.... ]

[ the angular lines of the man's shoulders, the short cut of the jacket with just enough dynamic flare to suggest a lean, like a knife poised to cut. this ought to be, kaveh thinks, imagery with something like an explosion imploding in the background. the endless wasteland of this soulless city stretches on beyond the silhouette of the man's pose, but kaveh can fill in the blanks with his imagination alone - flame, smoke, the light consequences of a minor chemical experiment gone wrong.

here - kaveh smiles. ]

Isn't that the thing, with the young ones? They come with that spark of creativity. I find that we lose a lot of it while we grow older - it seems to be just a consequence of age, but I think that's why people need each other, young and old and otherwise.

[ march - that's a name that invokes spring. kaveh lifts his pencil from his sketchpad in turn. ] Ah, I've captured the essentials. You can let go of the pose, now.

[ 'Young ones', this man says, like he doesn't look a day over 30 himself. (This Welt thinks, while barely looking a day over 40 himself.) The passage of time and age is truly such an odd thing, shaping the way humans view objects and each other.

Case in point: he's given permission to break free of his pose, and though he goes through the motions of stretching out his arms and neck, there's no real soreness anywhere to be found. Kaveh has truly delivered on his promise to make his task quick, despite how slowly the seconds always seem to tick by whenever an uncomfortable position is held. ]

It does seem that way, doesn't it? Even though we gain wisdom and experience with age, we lose so much else in the process.

[ But he isn't here to wax rhapsodic with a man (probably) a third of his age. ]

Are you planning on doing anything with the drawing? [ With a nod towards the sketch now safely placed down in the notebook. ] Or is it simply meant for your personal collection?

[ Meant in the nicest and least stalker-y way possible. ]

[ kaveh, who continues to think march must be a small child, finishes up the final bits of his sketch with the absent-minded flick of a man who has been doing this for more years than he cares to count. it had been like so when the palace of alcazarzaray came to him in a dream; it had been like so when inspiration struck in the middle of a class and the lines formed themselves into orderly snippets along his notepad from imagination to reality.

reality is hardly ever so easy, however. kaveh is already considering how he would like this to be painted. a small canvas seems lacking, for the lack of a better word. but there isn't canvas here large enough for the vision of a three-shadow crossover that's taking place in kaveh's head unless kaveh were to make the canvas himself, and that would be resource-intensive in a way that robs other people of canvases that they can use.

it's in the middle of that thought that kaveh looks up. ]

Paint it, actually. I was thinking of a larger canvas, but that wouldn't work unless I take up more than the ones that I ought to. [ kaveh fishes an eraser out from a pocket and dabs away at a line. wait.

kaveh really looks up. ] Oh! Oh, you're asking if I'm going to keep the drawing and admire it on my own. I mean, I do love the pose quite a bit, but I wasn't going to be strange about it. It's just, I was just thinking this city could use a bit more colour. There's a certain lifelessness to it that haunts me. There isn't any art to speak of. I wanted to begin filling up the place, as it were. Your pose just gave me the inspiration for it.

- that's not strange, is it?

[ Imagine. His bespectacled face, covering the entirety of some wall in this city for everyone to see. What a thought. Certainly not one he's ever had in his life before this.

It's not as though he's particularly shy about his looks - you reach a certain age and appearance becomes the last thing you have the time to worry about - and it's not as though as though plenty of things created by his hand haven't had their image plastered on billboards and posters for all to see. And Kaveh does have a point: this city is terribly barren. ]

No, I don't think it's strange. It's very admirable of you to want to contribute to this place and make it a place worth living and walking through every day. A life without creativity of any sort - whether it be art, music, poetry, everything else - is hardly a life worth living.

[ It's just that, well…. ]

I just didn't expect all that to stem from something as simple as this.

[ He's not that special, not that unique. Second in a line of many, another traveler aboard a train, a supporting character always overshadowed by a more determined protagonist. Still, he smiles ruefully, shaking his head slightly. ]

But that's how inspiration often strikes, isn't it, from something small and sudden?

[ he's being indulged, kaveh knows. there's a moment where his lips quirk a little helplessly at that, because there's something about someone indulging you with the grace of a put-out saint that makes kaveh want to either thank them profusely or give them a little trouble for it. that's the thing, with people who were kind.

there were a lot of them here. they didn't know what they were getting into, but very few people in the universe at large did, and it was little moments like these that has kaveh knowing that people, in general, were good and tried to be so. ]

Right? [ is the pleased bob of kaveh's head. ] I'm glad you think so; I agree, of course. A life without creativity means that what is being built and created isn't meant to serve people. I've always thought that people need more than just lines and figures. This city says as much - I almost wish the old guard at the Akademiya could come live in this city for a month. Isn't this place the best example that function over all aspects of form doesn't work?

[ ... then, with a slight, red glint of mischief: ] Still, does that mean you don't mind if I painted your likeliness on the side of a wall? Say, four by fifteen metres in vibrant colour?

[ —HOL' UP, FIFTEEN FREAKIN' METERS? Isn't that too much??? ]

[ Ahem. Don't mind him as he nudges his glasses a bit further up his nose, the small movement meant to conceal the quick flush of embarrassment that passes through him. ]

That seems like far too much work for a single man alone. At least let me help you with the base layers.

[ Or wait. Is that arrogant, for a man to (help) paint his own self-portrait?? Maybe he ought to try a different approach. ]

Or we can consider a trade. I'll let you work on your painting, and you tell me about this Akademiya of yours. [ Because it really does sound right up his alley... ]

[ the man adjusts his glasses. kaveh grins at the gesture. his head tilts; his earrings jangle like a flock of metallic birds. ]

Well, before we get into what I would call a business relationship, we ought to exchange something else first.

[ here, the hand that isn't holding up the sketchpad is extended out towards welt. kaveh beams. ] I'm Kaveh, an Architect - though that doesn't mean very much around these parts. Who is my collaborator?

[ What a nice fellow. Polite, good-natured, and skilled with pencil and pen. There are worse people to start up (business) relationships with, that's for sure. Welt takes the hand offered to him with a ready smile, and gives it a firm shake. ]

Welt Yang. Traveler and jack-of-all trades. [ Live long enough and you end up dabbling a bit in everything, by choice or otherwise. ] Though I was an artist before that.

[ No harm in offering that tidbit up and establishing a little (more) common ground. ]

[ kaveh's eyes gleam. ]

I had my suspicions, considering how easily you let me coerce you into modelling and how you offered to help with the base layers. [ the slow roll of kaveh's wrist is pleased, and transparently so. ] Ah, it's always refreshing to meet a fellow who understands artistic expression. What might be your medium of choice?

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