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He finished and banished the holo screen, his combot returning to floating behind him.
But even once he had done so, Sandy made no attempts to move. She continued leaning into his side, head resting on his chest, smiling slightly. Relaxing against him in a way that seemed exactly right, even as she stained his pale beige pants with the ink that still soaked her.
“Where did you even get ink?” He asked, fingering the hem of her skirt curiously. Fascinated by the flashes of soft thigh that doing so revealed.
“I burned some stuff, collected the ashes, and mixed it with some oil I found in the bathroom. I think it was feather oil. Smelled nice and held the color well.”
Rane burst out laughing. She said it so nonchalantly, like it was the kind of thing anyone would do every other day.
“Want to paint with me?” She asked, turning her head up to smile at him.
And he did. He really did.
His clothes, the manor, whatever she had burned to get the ashes – none of that mattered so much as her happy smile when she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him back to the hallway. They passed the segment that held the tree she was working on and moved to a different section. She yanked a painting off the wall and tossed it away as he pulled over the nearly empty bowel of ink. He got to watch as she mixed up more ash – from the bathroom where she had destroyed the tub by burning something that looked like the clothes his mother had given her and the drapes off the windows – and added more feather oil.
She plunged her hand into the solution and mixed it up before offering the bowl to him. He didn’t hesitate to soak his fingers as well. The coolness of the makeshift ink, knowing it would stain his clothes – and maybe skin – just as badly as her, made it seem even more fun.
But then he turned to the blank wall, and all he could do was frown. Sandy was already working, slathering the ink on the walls, following whatever idea was in her head, but he didn’t really know what to do. He hadn’t ever drawn anything before. Especially not with his hands.
“Just do whatever,” Sandy said, surprising him. Did he look that lost?
“It won’t be any good,” he said.
“So?” She laughed. “This isn’t to make a beautiful work of art. This is to have fun. Just draw the first thing that comes to mind.”
The first thing in his mind, huh…
Unsure of himself, but eager to join in, he put his hand against the wall and quickly swiped it down. The resulting line was super thick at the top but thinned out very quickly. He definitely didn’t have the same easy technique as Sandy.
“There you go!” She encouraged, smacking the back of his shoulder. No doubt leaving a dark, hand shaped mark right there.
And he didn’t mind that at all. He just smiled as he kept painting.
Chapter 13
Sandy
Maybe drawing on the walls wasn’t exactly the kind of adventure her grandmother meant, but Sandy couldn’t remember the last time she had this much fun.
She and Rane were using the same piece of wall – between the door that led into the reading room and the door that led outside her wing – but they were drawing different things. Chatting, laughing. He was telling her about his last game, explaining the rules of trikball, the leagues. She was asking questions and trying to understand without actually seeing a game.
All the while, she was painting her house back home. The one she no longer owned but would always hold a special place in her heart. She wanted to show Rane. Everything from the attic window grandma used to swear was haunted when she was little to the bushes she used to play under when she was a kid and everything in between.
She was so focused on their conversation and her drawing, she didn’t check on what Rane was doing. She saw him moving out of the corner of her eyes. She glanced over when they ran out of ink and he was mixing up some more, but she didn’t peep at his masterpiece. She didn’t want to discourage him now that he was doing it.
“You really like trikball, don’t you?” She asked, beaming at how happy he sounded while talking about it.
“I’ve been playing all my life.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him smiling wistfully as he slowly stroked the wall. She could easily imagine him painting the trikball field, or maybe the ball itself. What else could he be drawing with that tender look on his face?
“I liked watching you play,” she confessed, using her nails to make some grain lines in the wooden face of the house. “It was really exciting.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “I’m pretty disappointed that I didn’t get to see the away game too.”
His smile faded a bit. “Mother can’t control every aspect of the stadium and who might see you on other planets.”
“Wait. The away games are on other planets?” She whipped her head around surprised.
