2019-08-28 - Smoldering Mimes

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : It's later.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Why which. Haircut? School? Sketch?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Haircut's obvious. You're looking good.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Why the sketches of the school?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : You tease.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Pictures I draw while in class. Art Major. Anthropology Minor.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I don't know that that's teasing.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : And I don't know that that's an answer.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I don't know what it is if it isn't teasing.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Easy answer: relieve boredom. Difficult answer: helps me process what others feel around me. I'm an artist. Supposed to be sensitive and shit, right?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Truth.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Maybe flirtation.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Is that the way art works? Fuck, no wonder I'm such shit at it.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Red Sparrow > Trimmed Rink in good looks.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Also truth.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : And it works for me. Also works when people ask what I for a living. Art student! It's all right there in the book.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Feels a little like slipping into an old coat. Not sure it fits right anymore.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Deflection so you don't have to talk then? 😛

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : That's teasing.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Repurpose the old to make it new again. Thats what we artists do to. Throw glitter on it or some shit!

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I dunno if the world can handle me in glitter.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I can't help it if people can't get 'Charming smile + big eyes + wiggling fingers' equals Art Student.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I mean. I know what I'd get if you tried that with me.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : You'd probably blind someone. Probably yourself.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : big scared emoji ?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : :flushed:

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Tease.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : (it will be five or ten minutes before his reply) I. Uhhh. You. Stuck my hand in my paint. Fingers. Was. Why did you want to know about the sketch?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I didn't stick your hand anywhere.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Just seems a very dull subject. Not that some of those pieces weren't interesting. Just kinda... architectural?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Not what. Your flushed face sure implied differently! Had to get it off. Painted something.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Show me.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Practice means working on the dull and the interesting. Both what you see which is boring, and what you... feel, which. Well. If we run into each other again, I'll show you a different set.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Uhh. Well. It's just. Not even really much to see yet. Was just using what I had on my fingers. But. Top of mind thing. You know.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Shy. I get it.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Sec.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : And I never really got good at the practicing part.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : (A picture attachment comes across, a shot of a larger piece of paper. It's focused in enough it's impossible to tell where he is at. There is only so much one can do with a finger painting, but it's clear the red paint is the outline of a woman, and the equally red hair cut looks suspiciously close to the one Sparrow just got. Partial fingerprints can be seen in it too, where his fingers had stopped in particular parts of getting rid of the paint he dunked them in.)

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : And what were you thinking about why you did this?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : That it was a nice color. It goes with your hair. Sensations. Fingers. Paint. Skin.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Are you flirting with me, Rink?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Yes.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Good.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I'm keeping this one.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : It looks unfinished.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Didn't say I was done.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Do I get to see the finished piece?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : More work to do with my fingers yet. Maybe. I'll keep the finished piece with me in one of my books I take with me so you can see sometime.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Pretty sure you are definitely teasing now.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Almost certainly. Seems to be the only way to keep up with you.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Bold of you to try 😉

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I think of it more like self defense.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You could be running the other way.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I don't advise it.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Might mistake it for you giving chase.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : But you could try.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : ... running away is giving chase?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Invitation to. I know words.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : First stumble. Ugh. Your point.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I am concerned for two reasons. First, that running away could result in you hunting me down.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Are you worth the effort?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Always was. Always will be.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Why?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : And what's number two?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : That's a mystery for you to figure out. And number two...

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Bullshit.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I'm concerned that I'm curious as to what would happen if you did hunt me down.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Sounds like THAT thought merits some sketching.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : What didn't I see back when?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I don't remember you being this much of a pain in high school. Fine. Why? I know what I want. I know what I feel. And I'll know what you feel.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : And yes. More sketching. Much more sketching. Need to get it out and drawn.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I have always been a delight. :innocent: :blush: :innocent:

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I sorta like you being a pain. Gives me ideas for those sketches.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : sparrow Not that I'd ever tell you that. 😐

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I can pretend you didn't 😉

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : So. What do you feeeel?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : What do you want?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Frustrated. Excited. Hot. Wishing I'd have taken a picture of you so I could make sure to get the details just right. Wanting to bed you over my knee and give you a good smacking for all of these questions. I'm supposed to be doing a painting of a sunset over the ocean for school, not sketches of... things.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You keep answering them, honey. Ain't my fault you let me get away with it 😉

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Shouldn't assume I won't pay you back when I see you next. I have a long memory. Well. I have sketches to remind me.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : First. I'm not keeping you from your work.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : No more than you want to be kept.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Second. I do wonder what that vengeance might look like.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Sort... of. Once a feeling and concept get stuck in my head it's... well. Difficult to explain. Have to get it out. Second... good.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : An itch.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I get it.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Yeah.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You aren't the only artist in this conversation, cutie.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : But you are the one claiming to not be keeping me from my work, while giving me said itches. 😉

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : ... that sounded better in my head before I typed it.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : :laughing:

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : If you gotta go scratch an itch, don't let me keep you from it.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I'll send you one of them. Maybe. There will be several. Later.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Why do I get the feeling I'mma be strung up and gagged?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Are you watching what I draw?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Just paying attention 😉

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Good.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You know I'm not in agreemet with your assessment, right?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Which part?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : That I've done anything deserving punishment.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I've been nothing but charming.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : We will just have to hope you'll enjoy it, then.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Will we?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Depends on my mood. And you've been painfully charming.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : That's what I like to hear. You're starting to understand me 😉

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Good. I think.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Do YOU like to be bent over a pretty girl's knee and spanked, Rink?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Are you watching me sketch again?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : :smiling_imp:

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : When'd you get to be so forward?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Scratching. And. Uhh. I guess I grew out of my awkward phase in college.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Finally just said fuck it, you know?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I assume that means you're masturbating.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I'm flattered that I'm on your thoughts.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : :eyeroll:

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You still say more here than face to face.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I say plenty. Just not with words.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Like a mime?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : A smoldering mime.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Why'd you set the mime on fire?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : To see if it'd scream.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Don't worry. Dedicated to his art. Not a peep.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You are a cruel man, Rink.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : :beaming smiley face:

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : So what else you learn about yourself since you started saying fuck it? Besides your forwardness and your love of igniting mimes?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Apparently that I run into painfully charming cuties. How to cook ramen noodles and boil water. Sell some art online to make ends meet. What have you been doing with yourself?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : As for since I've said fuck it, and what I've learned about myself in more... interesting ways? I'm sure you'll get some ideas when I share some of the sketches.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : :eyeroll: C'mon. I get that you're pervy. I'm digging for something more intimate here, kitten.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I went soul-searching across the country and spent a while in New Orleans. Came home. Back to school. Formed a band. That's what I've been doing.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Not all thoughts about hunts are /pervy/, even if you inspired them, you know. It's not just the sensation of you being the one to hunt, but just being hunted in general. (A few seconds later, an attachment comes through. Grass can be seen on the edges, clearly somewhere outside. The sketch itself shows Dylan walking through a forest. The lack of foilage and snow on the ground shows it is the depths of winter. He has left foot prints behind, and lurking behind? Is a vague, shadow figure, one whom doesn't leave any tracks)

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : And as for something more... intimate? Learning to be on my own, without a crutch for... well, you know. Parents moved a year or so ago to Junction City for work. I stuck it out here.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Why New Orleans?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Yeah. Corey and I moved out on our own just last month. Not that we hadn't both been on our own before, separately, but we both moved back home after until this summer.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : And because it was amazing. Stopped there for a bit and decided to stay a while. Never made it to the east coast.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Not sure what yours were like. Mine were /always/ ... doing everything. Felt my lack of talking was a handicap, or whatever. Maybe that is why I'm so much more confident. Have to be now, I guess.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Sounds like a great year.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Ah. Yeah. No. Not like that at home.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : It was.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You go right to school after? You at WSU-H?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Yeah. I do work online. Digital art and what not to make ends meet, if barely. Poor starving artist and what not, you know.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You in any classes with Jens? Not sure if you're in the same program or year or whatever.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Third year. Ish. I don't quite take a full class load. And I've seen him on campus. Never said anything... just. You know.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Yeah. You should. He's good.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : All right. I'll say a couple of words to him, next I see him.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Which two?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Hey Jens?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : See you?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I'm sorry. I'm being a dick.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Maybe: Fuckin' Sparrow. 😛 Maybe he'd sympathize with that!

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Report back? I'll admit some curiosity.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : If he sympathizes, or which two words I settle on? 🙂

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : The former.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Ok.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You getting your work done now? Itches all scratched?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I'm not sure how I feel about being a looming shadow.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Getting there. At the park. I'll finish up the sunset during the night.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Both kinda on point and kinda not.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : And you aren't the shadow. That's... well. Like I said. The thought of hunts summon old feelings. Not just about you. Though I can picture you being a lurking, devious figure.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Angelic. Pure. Delightful.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : What kinda old feelings?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : You, on the other hand... (Another picture. This one has Dylan strapped down - clothed, you pervert! - on a rack. He looks completely shocked, sad and pouty, while Sparrow stands tall and proud - sassy even! - holding a book titled, simply, 'Book of Questions.')

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Nightmares. The old feelings. Not you. Least not yet. Give it time!

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : (a couple minutes later, the same picture is snapped again, but this time a halo has been added onto Sparrow. A hallow held up by a wire. That's slightly bent, making it all lopsided.)

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Well, fuck.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Feel like you kinda actually captured me there.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Sorry to hear about the nightmares, though. Promise I'm purely good dreams material.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : We will see.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Maybe I'll let you have this one if you are.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You can report back on that too 😉

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : And what if you aren't?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : No apologies, kitten. But you don't have to keep talking to me if it's not good for your mental health.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Well, I'll let you know. But I'm not giving a detailed account! 😉

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Not even illustrated?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : ...

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I'm teasing.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Are you?

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Yes.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You work scary fast, btw.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Sketching is easy. Colors take longer. It'll take a while on your finger painting picture.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : And good to know on the teasing. I'll just keep those to myself, then!

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Colors are easy. Sketching takes longer.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Color makes sense. Lines are uncooperative.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Technique, that is.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I dunno. Maybe.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Offer is always there.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : What medium do you work in?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I do a variety. Sketching is always charcoal. Sometimes colored pencils if I want to fill in a sketch. Painting? Typically oil based paints is what I have around. My place is sort of a... uhm. Hodge podge of art supplies. 😐

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Why 😐?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : You'd probably get it. Most don't.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I've had more than one date end at the front door step once they caught a glimpse inside. Artist sounds all cool until you see the mess it can all make.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Weird.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Mind, I'm a neat freak. Always cleaning up after myself. But that's just a habit.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I pick up the /trash/, but anything I think might be useful in the future? I keep, somewhere.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Keep somewhere sounds like you have a place for things which means not mess.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Uhhhmmmm. Lets go with that. Sure. Places. The corners and sides of the floor are places.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You should invest in cabinets.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : That would mean money. Or the ability to make stuff out of wood, which is something that I haven't mastered. Not even a little bit.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Thrift stores.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : They always have such neat things for art projects. I might have an addiction. 😐

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : You have money that you spend poorly 😛

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I can respect that.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I think my art is spending money wisely! It speaks for itself!

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : ... yeah, yeah. I know. I'll.. look into cabinets. Next time some old guy pays me to draw his WoW Night Elf chick avatar in scantily clad armor for him.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Is that how you pay your rent?

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Have to pay the bills somehow.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Hey, no shade. That's cool as fuck.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Most of them are... fairly repetitive. Some of the people and their concepts though? Cooooool as fuck, yes, to work on.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : I bet. 😃

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Be nice to do it for /real/. I know 'art' won't ever pay the bills. But digital animation? Concept art for movies or games or something? I could dig that.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Some people manage it.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : I'll wow them with my witty banter.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Your smolder.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Your crispy mimes.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : You are starting to get me.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : 😉

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Couple more done. Think I have most of it out of my head. Except that fingerpaint. But enough I can actually get to the school project.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Cool. You go do that. I'mma get done what I need to do.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Glad I ran into you.

(TXT to Sparrow) Dylan : Yeah. Same. I'll... let you know tomorrow.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Heh. Sure.

(TXT to Dylan) Sparrow : Night.