failureisntachoice | Mask or Menance IC Contact Post

[There's a moment's hesitation and he offers the book with a slight nod. It's a fairly new sketchbook, this collection of sketches only a few pages in.]

... I could finish it - properly - if you'd like.

[ She accepts the book with care and takes her time looking through the few sketches that he has already. ]

I'd like that. You mind if I watch while you do?

[Figure sketches are actually relatively rare as she pages back. Most of the drawings are strong, sure straight lines of buildings. Some with particular character around Heropa and De Chima - squat buildings, others with structural damage of time, or merely odd architectural choices. Others were the artforms of the giant spanning skyscrapers, glittering and built to sway in wind and upheaval. Though technical, they were not cold, particular attention given to the detail and character of the design...

People, animals and landscapes seemed to take up little slices around the edges of the pages, almost as if shyly practiced. They're a far rougher, less steady and sure hand than the ones deep in technical design, and more than a few scribbled out, or left at faceless circles for joints and limbs.

But there were a few finished drawings, particularly recently - a rapid sketch of strangers sitting at the coffee shop, a study in postures and expressions, suggesting boredom in some, preoccupation in others and expressive conversations in others.

There were recent sketches, many quick, unsure, determined to catch the images more than the technical accuracy. Cordelia, her face lined, but deeply composed, sure and self possessed, a certain authority in her face. Her chin is lifted, and her eyes seem to be alight with delight.

There was teenage Gregor, sitting by a windowsill, seemingly unaware of being observed. A book rests in his lap, and his bangs fall over his eyes, the show of tension is in, even alone, his shoulders seem a bit hunched.

There were a few sketches of tiny Miles, expressions defiant, challenging and full of will, but the one with the most detail was simply a study of two hands, one large, squarish and calloused, a small, delicate, tapered on, fingers barely wrapping around two of the larger fingers.]

It should be fine. ... Would you be comfortable being a reference? ... It helps.

Yeah... That'd be fine. [ It's barely a murmur as her attention is fully absorbed in the sketches.

There's a small smile when she reaches the more recent ones, the characters all ones she saw and remembers from only a couple of days ago. She pauses at a sketch of young boy and traces a finger along the lines of his too-small cheek as her smile brightens. It had been a change being around him at that age, not one she had at all regretted beyond the old memories they stirred up.

It's not often she can offer something joyful, but she has a gift she can offer in return. ]

Cordelia asked me to take photographs, you know. And some video. I have a feeling she was planning on sharing them with you, but with this surgery happening so fast, I didn't have the chance to get them to her yet.

Did she? [That has his attention completely commanded. His memories had fuzzed, a strange, wispy quality to them, some parts sharp, but others had evaporated with the next morning.]

That... is quite the favor.

I'm a walking computer, remember? [ There's a small bit of hesitation as she returns the sketchbook to the page he had left it on and hands it back to him. ]

I could show you some now, if you want. Over the link.

[Of all the uses for the link... it had never occurred to him. Sometimes... just sometimes, he could forgive all of the magic and nonsensical lack of rules of this place.]

I would appreciate that greatly.

[And carefully, he pushes down his guards.]

[ She keeps her distance mentally, treating this like a data transfer now that their connection is broadened. First, she sends over a series of photos of Miles, wearing his newly bought swim trunks, and playing on the beach under her watchful eye. It's easy to tell the boy had been a handful, but she didn't let that shorten their trip.

A short clip accompanies it of her helping Miles collect the shells he had so desperately wanted (and shooing him away from the crab he thought he could sneak away with).

It's all neatly packaged and sent to him to open and peruse at his leisure. The only intrusion she holds is to keep the images strong as he goes through them. ]

[He closes his eyes, to sort through them - a wholly human and unnecessary gesture. With her thoughtful privacy, there was no telling what exactly his thoughts were, but there was a growing sensation of contentment that seeped first over the edges of the link, and then on his face.

The stern expression smoothed into something almost younger, an unguarded smile there over pictures of shells and charging at - and away from the tide. He sets his chin on his hands, unconsciously, and sorts through the images slowly. The small clip is met with a simple, breathy laugh here and there...

It's some long moments before they're put aside, his eyes open and the link gently narrows.]

Thank you... It - ah. For myself, he'd just been born. This is.. something I missed by jumping here.

[ She keeps her gaze on Miles, offering Aral what little privacy she can in the physical realm as well. This is a private moment and she hopes whatever reverted things back to normal didn't rob him of the memories he made himself.

The fact that they had even entrusted her with Miles' well-being when he was that small spoke volumes to her. She shakes her head at the thanks. Photos and video were the least she could do while she was with them and the kid. ]

You have that to look forward to when you get back. I'll make sure you and Cordelia both get copies.

Indeed. ... She'll appreciate them, I'm sure.

[He leans back in the hospital chair and putting a hand on the pad she'd handed back, he gestures to the other chair in the room.]

Please.

You want to do it now?

[ Unless he's directing her to sit for some other reason. She eyes him as she takes a seat. ]

[He rubs at his chin.]

I don't insist.

[ She shrugs and leans back in her seat. ]

You're the artist and your shift here is over. It's up to you, I'm not going anywhere.

["Artist" gets a bit of a sidelong glance, followed by a dismissive gesture and pleased sound. After a moment of study to the sketch cramped into the corner... he turns the page for a fresh sheet.]

There's a little to go over anyway. He's a long history of reaction to medications.

[ She nods. That's a list she can easily commit to memory and will serve as a good cross-check if Miles ever needs to be brought in for medical attention again. ]

The doctors have the list too, right?

I wish it were so simple. What we have scarcely matches the medicine of this era, though the classes remain. [Gamely though, he gives those and what in-universe names they'd found to be similar enough.

Gestures over the page, at this point, where large and loose, sketching space and vague shape to being.]

Symptoms will be more of an issue.

[ She dutifully takes notes and stores the information away in a file. It'll be easy to recall should this situation come up again. ]

I bet. Has any form of magical healing caused any problems?

He hadn't mentioned... by the sheer number of healers he has on his list, I would venture not.

I don't know how many of them he's gone through yet. I know he's used Ken before and that new guy of yours that showed up.

Hm. There is another by the name of Lucy, a very sensible lady of stature. I'm not sure if they'd needed more.

... the idea of allergy to magic seems strange, but I suppose it is a rejection all the same. Possible, his very constitution is one of willfullness.

[The frames of the figures roughly sketched, now and then he slides a longer look at Tex, finding the lines of her cheeks, or the shape of her chin, darkening lines in a resemblance.]

[ She snickers at that and occasionally tries to steal a glance at the progress of the sketch. ]

I wouldn't put it past him to find a way. At least he shouldn't be alone if one gets discovered.

[The next time he picks up the pad and resettles it to keep a good angle where his wrist isn't smudging the graphite, it just so happens to settle again in a good angle for her to see.]

Just to be contrary? Hm. I'll say that's Cordelia's side.

[ She smiles faintly as she watches him work. This is the first time she's ever been someone's art subject before. ]

And which part is yours?

His luck, I fancy.

[His style is a bit rough, but not unflattering. It is perhaps interesting where he focuses, the lines of her neck are strong and defined, the lines around her mouth making the smile she's offering Cordelia reserved, perhaps a little nervous. But the posture, the slight lean that both had towards each other was engaged, almost intimate.]

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