#baronyofthesilverwolf

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Trina stomps up the stairs to the apartment she shares with her mom, and hears voices coming from within! Here mom is not in there alone...

She slows, listening.

(And swats at a Never.)

A laugh, cheerful, from mom. "No, really??"

Soft laughter in response - the other voice is female, and familiar... can't quite place it? It's not Caren from bowling, or Elaine from the book club, is it?

A frown, and ear to door.

"So I told her, why, yoga does fit into every day life. What is urksasana - tree pose, but being able to put on a shoe while standing on one leg? Child's pose, balasana, is the "getting a box from under the bed". And utkatasana, or chair pose? How else will you have the strength to hover over a dirty rest room toilet seat?"

Diane laughs along with the other lady again! Sounds like she's picked up a new hobby - and a new friend?

"Bunny, you're a treat. And you've been holding classes for how long? I'm not sure how I missed it. I used to have book club on Wednesdays, but we just finished our last and I could use a break before another tome like the last one." Diane says.

Brow furrows!

Bunny...

And one of the little sillies zips under the doorjamb!

"Gorram glow-worms!" she whispers.

"Oop!"

"Let me get you a towel, we'll clean that right up." Steps away into the hallway.

"It's just my bunny-fingers, pardon, butterfingers." That familiar voice again... Bluebell?? But why HERE?

Trina opens the door, not sure if she wants to blow up or not.

She left the hold angry, for sure.

Bluebell is there, carefully dabbing at spilled soda on her shirt, and murmuring to a little silly, "Of course I'm not mad, I just should have worn my brown top today, it goes better with Pepsi." A chiming bell noise, and she replies, "I do understand, but it only makes sense if it was a glass of 'Sprite'!" The tinkle of laughter.

Bluebell's rabbit ears perk and she looks to the door. "Oh, hello there! Diane didn't tell me she had a younger sister."

"Why are you here?"

She swats at another Never, annoyed with their hovering and chiming and the pooka in her HOUSE. Well, apartment.

This might upset them, as she has mostly been tolerant - even indulgent - of their presence.

Bluebell gives a low curtsey to Trina. "It is important to make sure that all of our chickies have a clean and happy nest? Also, Miss Diane might be joining my weeknight yoga class." A smile!

Diane walks back in, offering Bluebell some paper towels. "Sorry, I meant to get a real towel, but it looks like we don't have any clean right now. The building only has three washers and two of them are on the fritz again..."

"Again?" Grumble-sigh.

"Mrs. Crabbe won't call out a repairman as long as at least one of them is working. Never mind that ONE washer isn't enough for a building this size, but... it is what it is. Though I am TEMPTED to toss a handful of loose change into the working one and MAKE her call for repairs. Honestly, the things are older than I am, but they don't want to replace them."

"It helps if you kinda bang them on the back left corner..."

"If you get a chance, could you take a look, hun?" Diane moves over to put a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "By the way, this is my new friend, Miss Bind... Bindhri..."

A laugh and Bluebell offers, "Just call me Bunny, all my friends do." A nose-wiggle that only Trina can see.

"I'll look later."

Blueb - 'Bunny' offers a hand to Trina, along with a reassuring smile.

A skeptical frown, but she takes the hand. "Hi." Sullen teenager!

"We were just talking about my yoga classes. You must go to CHS... do you think any of the kids there might be interested in a youth yoga club?"

"Dunno. Probably Gwen."

"Gwen is a delight, but she is not....BENDY!" She says with a playful stretch, up onto her tippy-toes! "Plus, her mind is all puppies, puppies, puppies. Now, don't you have a little something that occupies your mind an heart like Gwen's dogs?"

"Not like her, not... not anymore, really."

She hops right onto the 'anymore', as quick as a bunny who spotted a carrot. "Anymore? But what about any-then?"

Shrug. "Usedta like art."

"Where did you find the usedta?"

"That's not my favorite of words, alas."

Bluebell might spot pieces - the lumpy ashtray, a collection of bowls on the entertainment center, a vase shaped like a frog...

Diane loves that darn ashtray, even thought she's never been a smoker! She uses it to collect coupons clipped from the paper!

A framed childish watercolor of fairies and toadstools!

"Well, like.. like... art has form..."

"oooooooo...." Bluebell coos at the painting!

Pink spirals. "That's... Mom likes it."

"Art, you see, is like water." She picks up her glass - and picks a Never out of it. "Bit of dust." She explains to Diane. "iI takes the form of whatever it is poured into. Water might be shaped like a dish..." She shakes out the coupons and pours some water into the ashtray!

"or like a Frog." She pours water into the vase.

"Oh, but those are fake flowers..." Diane says!

"Or a puddle!" The last of the water goes into one of the bowls, and the never dives in with a tinkling squeal!

"But no matter the shape it takes.. it is STILL WATER. And anyone who tells you otherwise? THAT, my dear, is what we call a Nitwit."

Diane is bemused, but she laughs.

Her shoulders curl. "But it isn't good."

"GOOD is subjective. It is in the eye of the beholder. Did you know that there was a museum where one of the art pieces was picked up and thrown away by the Janitor? He thought it was a pile of trash! And yet another, the headline piece of art? A Banana. Just a banana, pinned to the wall. And when it turned brown, it would be replaced. Is that Art?

Then, someone snuck in, and ATE THE BANANA. His act, was that ALSO art?"

"Yeah, I heard about that. It's bullshit art."

"It's about stunts and press and taking schlock and marketing it and not caring if it's real."

"To you, perhaps!" She taps Thistle on the nose lightly. And a grin. "AND to me. But to them.... the creator? For them, it was art. Maybe the banana wasn't the art at all, it was the meaning behind it. Perhaps the act of throwing away the trash is a sociatal commentary. But that TOO is art. As much as any perfect vase, or happy little trees. Miss Trina, I suggest you take two Bob Ross, and call me in the morning."

She scowls.