#baronyofthesilverwolf

Perhaps that's why she was reborn with stone skin. Is she fire proof now?
...is it worth testing?
.......is it safe to even suggest this to Thistle?

"OH yeah, and the lights!"

"I took the streamers from it for my scooter, y'know."

"Scooter? Eh? Diane let's you ride on one of those?" She cackles. "Never could get her to ride in my sidecar, she was always a bit of a scaredy cat... my girl, not much of her mum in her... now you, my lass, that's the blood showing..." She hums pleasantly.

Hey! Thistle suddenly remembers,

...

Didn't Art come with them?

"Mom's okay, just, y'know, not one for speed."

A sharp frown. "Hey, where did Art go?"

"Art?" Nan turns her mobility scooter around, and blinks at the other residents. "Oh, we're supposed to be painting bird boxes today... eh... I better get in while they still have some paint left..."

Citrine chimes, and points back the way they came, towards the parking lot.

Gladiola stands up and looks around, blushing "Not sure I... " She starts to follow Citrine's finger

"Right, sorry Nan. Don't want to intrude on your fun there. I'll be by next week with Mom."

"Oh, yes! Next week.. heh heh. Love your visits, dear. Bring some whiskey next time, tell your ma that nurse rachet approved it. At my age, who gives a damn about my liver?"

Gwen sees that Art is sitting in the parking lot, he looks fine from here.

"It was nice meeting you again, Ma'am. Pardon me" And she heads that way to Art anyway

"I'll try!" She gives Nan a peck on the cheek. "Goota go!"

"Take care now! OI, BELINDA! Quit hogging all the primary colors!" The aged spitfire bellows as she rolls over!

She treks after Gwen, towards Art.

Art sits in the parking lot, his gaze unfocused as he slips into a trance-like state. The afternoon sun casts long shadows, and the quiet hum of distant conversations seems to fade into the background. As his mind drifts, the world around him blurs, and he finds himself enveloped in a vision.

Time passes, as the ladies chat with Nan.

Art is gazing into the sky distantly as they approach, but then blinks and looks up.

"Hey, Art? You okay?"

Thistle grabs her sketchbook and shoves it into Art's hands, along with a pen.

"Oh... Oh!"

Art takes Thistle’s sketchbook and pen, his fingers moving quickly as he channels the hazy remnants of his vision onto the page. The result is a rough drawing... "I'm sorry... this... I'm not an artist. I've been practicing like you said, and using the thumb trick..."

His sketches HAVE improved, and yes, he is better at perspective!

"You should be carrying the book I made ya, so it's on hand when these hit."

"You draw just fine."

Gwen keeps watch , feeling embarrassed at having missed a friend's abscence

He draws a large, blocky arch, its edges jagged and uneven, giving it a worn, old appearance. A few rough lines and scribbles suggest a faded rose clinging to the arch, its shape barely defined.

In the center of the arch, Art draws a rough heart-shaped hole, bored into the stone of the ground. It’s simple and stark, standing out against the arch and the rose. The hole is the focal point of the sketch, his pen pressing hard against the paper so that it almost tears as he goes over it again and again to make the ink as dark as he can.

The sketch is hasty and unpolished, and he looks a bit embarrassed. "Sorry... It was more... clearer in my mind..."

"Still, it's somethin'."

"This flower - the rose, it was wilted, and withered. Not like a cut rose that's dying, but like, the ones in the garden left when winter is coming." He traces a finger across it, then scratches his nose. Oops, a smear of ink.

She reaches out to swipe off the smudge with her thumb. "Like - autumn? Bad magic, or banality?"

"No, just... old, I think?"

"It felt tired."

"Can a plant be tired?"

He grins sheepishly as she brushes away the smudge.

"I don't know why not. Nan thinks Isolde might still be alive."

He traces a finger over the arch. "Does she know where she lives?"

"If she has a freehold, she could be squirreled away and young... erm young-ish, but there are still limits before bedlam starts to threaten."

She frowns. "Things got kinda.. touchy... at the end there. But I got her last name, and her house, so that oughtta help?"

He frowns a bit, and traces a finger over the arch. "What do you think, Gwen?"

(pause)