Memoria Gloria

[consider8]

Who: Agent 8 and OPEN
Where: Quiet Coach the Large One that was Formerly a Lab
When: Horseshoe 23
What: Agent 8 reveals the project that she has been making: a working mural piece that needs people to share their home.
Warnings: Possibly painful nostalgia?

On the early morning of the 23, people would wake up to find a small flyer glued onto the door. It reads:

Paths are made from a start

Our legs they stride, swept in a tide

Memories fade in this void apart

Come share a memory

The Large Quiet Room

🐙

Those curious enough to enter the room that was formerly a lab would see that that half of the room's contents have been shifted to one side. The half that is closest to the middle has its walls completely cleaned and covered with white sheets of paper. Only two things stand out from it: one is a sign hanging from the center of the wall that simply reads. "Where is Home?" As though to answer that, a drawing of a metropolitan square with large industrial-sized domes underneath. To further entice people into drawing, there's a cabinet filled with multi-colored thermoses of ink.

As for the hostess of all this? Well, she's nowhere to be found -- but if one was attentive they may notice that one corner of the cabinet seems to have a rather large of a spill of paint that is blending into the colors of the ground. An even more astute person may hear the soft sound of air bubbles rising to the surface even if the paint's surface appears perfectly still...

((OOC: Yeah, Eight is feeling a little self-conscious of the big display and is hiding in her ink. Also, a small note about the ink itself! It's very pretty! And she has a lot of choices set up, but it's also... weird. The ink doesn't blend or add at all, it only replaces. If your character tries to mix two ink colors together, it would just replace what was there with what was used last. Likewise, a paint stroke on the canvas will replace any color that was previously there as soon as the new one is applied.))

Comments

[consider8]

That sounded exactly like what it is. Freedom. Choice. Peace. To an octopus that lived underground and with constant fear that one day the lights will go out on her entire dome, nothing sound better than living on the surface. "It is. Until that day two years ago, I didn't even have a dream to call my own."

And so! She raises up the painting she made of Inkopolis Plaza. "That's why I want to remember. That's what I wanted to share. To remember where I came from. To hold close to my dream."

As mundane and quiet as that dream was.

[knifewithnoname]

A dream to call her own?

What a strange concept, but she looked at the painting and smiled. It was good, it looked different than anywhere she had seen before, but all worlds were different so she was used to that.

"I do no be thinking it would be being easy for you to be forgetting. You do be caring about it a lot."

[consider8]

The smile droops a little at that. "I hope so. I've heard some of the people here have been on this train for months. Sometimes it's good to remember. And sometimes you want to see it and feel it again."

But that was another topic for another time. "So! I've talked too much, heh. What about you? Where are you from? What is it that is important to you?"

[knifewithnoname]

"Yes some of us did be being here almost eight months now." She wrinkled her nose, "It has been being a long time."

She blinked at her, "I do be being from a place that do be being called Gauig. Both the city and the country, they do be being called the same thing. It do be being next to the sea and it do be being very hot. We do no never be having stupid cold snow or anything."

[consider8]

Oh oh! She reaches for one of the pieces of paper pasted on the wall and extends it to Little One. "Can you paint it? I would like to see."

[knifewithnoname]

"Be painting it?"

She wrinkled her nose. She's never painted before. She doesn't even know how to start.

But she's also not going to not try. It was just painting. How difficult could it be?

She looked at the ink and nodded. "Okay. I will be painting it."

She needs blue. She can start with the sea. Surely it can't be hard to paint the sea.

[consider8]

Eight would be surprised at the revelation that this one had never painted. Even in an oppressive military environment like Octopolis, young octolings are allowed to paint before they were conscripted into the military.

Blissfully oblivious, the octokid gets all the tools ready for an art project -- there's the primary colors and a set of paintbrushes to choose from. Don't mind that she's looking over everything that you do, Little One.

[knifewithnoname]

She can do this. She watches the girl get the materials out and nods. Brushes. They were a good start. She picked one up. Holding it like she would hold a pen was right?

Blue. Blue for the sea. She dipped the brush into the blue and then carefully but decisively drew a line on the paper. There. Blue. On paper. The start of the sea.

She tries not to show how much being watched bothers her, she would rather be able to figure this out, before having to show anyone.

[consider8]

Any concerns of being watched is lost on the octogirl. She was giving them space, but that was broken when Little One found where she was hiding. Now she's sitting quietly on the table, hands propping her head and watching every movement she is making.

She could do this for hours; she didn't mind.

[knifewithnoname]

She glanced at her once, twice and then realised that she was not going anywhere. She sighed and painted another blue line, then another. Stripes of blue over the corner of the page.

But the sea wasn't all blue that was the problem. There was the white of foam and sometimes it was green and dark, and sometimes shone silver with the light of the sun.

She needed more colours... She frowned as she reached out, to find other colours.

[consider8]

Eight noticed the movement, but wasn't sure what it meant. "What are you reaching for?"