043 x 340 // video

[dignity_misery]

[She was quiet last month, wasn't she. Well, she's decided to show her face today. She's perched on a chair with a very fluffy puppy in her lap. Peanut nibbles at her fingers as she wiggles them absentmindedly in front of his nose. She's staring at something, which she does eventually pick up the camera in order to share.

She turns the view onto a a large and haphazard stack of canvases that are dominating her one-room flat. There are a few pieces fully in view, expressive of disparate moods. 1, 2, 3, 4.

The piece sitting on the easel itself is a portrait of a man that only two people in this city would recognize, besides her. She had told one of them, once, that she preferred it that way. To keep the ghost buried. But she seems to have changed her mind about that, or maybe she's just resigned herself to something because in the corner where a signature might have otherwise gone are the words 'never gone.' (Before Carla says anything, Peanut gives a few trilling little sounds, rolling out of her lap and thumping to the floor. She sighs and picks him back up.)]

So... what do I do with these now?

[It was a flaw in her plan, really. She likes the sense of productivity when she's painting, but... she can't say she likes looking over her work. She'd never painted anything of her own, before the City. Counterfeiters didn't make profit on their creative efforts. Now she can see her own thoughts in colors and angles.]

Maybe a bonfire...

Comments

[othersdie]

You could try selling them.

[dignity_misery]

[She rolls that idea around in her head, a crease appearing between her eyes.]

If I needed the money.

[othersdie]

Even if you don't need the money.

[dignity_misery]

[She's staring at the portrait of Barbet. Sometimes she doesn't know what fucking possessed her to drag out his face like that. Sometimes she's almost relieved to see it.

She sounds distracted when she asks,]

Do you want one, Justin?

[synanthrope]

Dogs, dogs, dogs.

Aren't you done with dogs yet?

[dignity_misery]

I like them.

[She's not terribly defiant about it though.]

[synanthrope]

Is it the loyalty or the drool?

[dignity_misery]

The loyalty.

[Free affection and forgiveness. Maybe also the sense of responsibility that she is confused by but has occasionally found to be anchoring.]

[trenchknives]

You could sell the paintings. Someone'd buy 'em, I bet.

[dignity_misery]

[She is... probably still staring at that painting of Barbet.]

I don't need the money.

[Honestly, the idea of a stranger having one of the paintings bothers her. Maybe it shouldn't. She's been told she likes an audience. That's she's always crying out for attention. She can almost hear it now, that she made the video just to get a reaction. Of course she did. She scrubs at her face irritably for a moment.]

[trenchknives]

A little extra money never hurts. Unless ya don't want to sell 'em.

[dignity_misery]

[She likes Jimmy enough that she'll say this:]

Not to someone I don't know.

[worldofourown]

[ She seems to be bonding with the puppy. Is that a good thing? He'll assume it's a good thing. ] Assemble a scrap-file and tuck them away. [ A slight shrug. ] That way you can re-examine them when you feel like it, and put them out of sight and mind when you don't.

[dignity_misery]

[That's an alright idea, better than selling them off to strangers. Still,]

Do you want one?

[She has a few she thinks she'd like to see in the palace, really.]

[worldofourown]

[ He smiles wryly. ]

I wouldn't say no. [ Her paintings are good, even if they're not everyone's cup of tea. ]

[dignity_misery]

[She gathers Peanut up so she can set him on the floor. It's hardwood and he has a tendency to slide and scrabble around, the frantic scritching sound loud enough for the device to catch. Carla then makes her way over to the stack of paintings. A month's worth, those lower in the stack a bit more haphazard, time spent remembering her lessons. She hasn't forgotten that much, at least.

She selects this for Karl.]

Early Christmas gift.

[brobeforehos]

They look nice...

[dignity_misery]

I learned to paint when I was sixteen.

[So, yanno. Half her lifetime ago.]

[brobeforehos]

What's inspired them?

[studmuffin]

I like the dog one.

[dignity_misery]

Wolves.

[But she might just be teasing in caring about the distinction.]

[studmuffin]

[ Well, now he's just grinning. ]

You should sell them. I think they're neat.

video;

[indecent_butterfly]

Would you not miss them if you did?

video;

[dignity_misery]

[That's something no one has asked her yet. And she only answers the way she does because she happens to like you, Bel.]

I would still remember.

[The knotted thoughts in her head that lead her to paint each one.]

video;

[indecent_butterfly]

Remember, recall, but it is not the same as having it at fingertip. The emotion behind all changes as time goes on.