Inbox: Pumpkin Hollow

[stoneoftherose]

[Pyotr is always slow to answer his sending stone, when he bothers to carry it with him at all. He's only rarely interested in talking to others, even when it relates to his safety or livelihood. Sometimes especially then -- if you really need to pin him down about something, it may be better to do it in person. But if you persist in this pointless endeavor, eventually unsteady hands will raise the stone to cracked lips and a drunk or hangover voice -- there doesn't seem to be any pattern as to which it is at any given hour of the day -- will answer.]

Yes? What is it?

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[yournewsidekick]

She snorts, but to her very limited credit, only flicks the glass shard with a musical ping! "Right, the sucking out all your emotions stuff. What's this, your ability not to tragically drape yourself over the furniture and mope twenty-four-seven?"

A pause, and she narrows her eyes.

"You're not gonna sculpt me out of anything like this, are you?"

[stoneoftherose]

"Of course not," he groans. "The point of this project is to make a book of memories for Fever -- we'll be working in paper and drawing materials alone." Although trying to capture Nimona's frenetic energy in glass would be an interesting challenge...no, he shouldn't get distracted.

He still makes for the kitchen first, to pour himself a drink. "You do realize, of course," he calls out to Nimona, "That modeling involves a certain amount of sitting still and silent, don't you?"

[yournewsidekick]

"Ugggggh," confirms Nimona, and in another ripple of light she's beside Pyotr again, seated on the closest thing that passes for a counter in his kitchen. "How much? 'Cause I gotta tell you, five minutes max is about my limit."

She cocks her head, reconsidering.

"Okay, seven, since it's for Fever. Eight if we ditch the 'silent' part."

[stoneoftherose]

"We'll take breaks," he offers, having managed to wet his throat and now feeling a bit less discombobulated about the whole thing. "It's not as though there's a deadline." Well, apart from the barrier coming down, but...no, he doesn't need to worry about that just yet.

Instead he studies Nimona curiously, and asks, "These shapes you take on...which one is the real you?"

[yournewsidekick]

Nimona tilts her head even further.

"I don't follow," she says with bland cheer.

[stoneoftherose]

"Fair enough." It makes sense, he supposes; with how easily shape-changing seems to come to her, perhaps it is the ability to change in itself that is the "real" her, or perhaps there simply isn't one. It's an intriguing thought.

"A different question, then. In this drawing for Fever, which is meant to remind her of your existence even if she loses all her memories, do you want to look like a human, or something else? Or perhaps multiple things?"

[yournewsidekick]

Credit where credit's due, that's a way better response than all of Ballister's fumbling about can't you just be a girl and blah blah blah. Nimona's grin miiiiight be a little more sincere this time. Maybe.

"Oooh, good question." She hops off the counter, tapping her chin in thought. "Definitely multiple things. I don't want her looking at me and saying 'wow, what a nice ordinary human, how'd I get such boring friends.' Maybe human and, I dunno, like five different things? I guess that's close enough if it's just a drawing."

[stoneoftherose]

"The more creatures we add, the more difficult it will be to depict any of them with any great degree of detail." But the difficulty is only adding to his interest. After a moment's thought, he suggests, "Perhaps your human form and two of your favorite animal forms for the book, and then a larger image, a painting in color perhaps, that Fever could hang in her home. That way she'll know that you're very important to her, and that you posses a great many forms indeed."

[yournewsidekick]

...

Wow. Even after two years of all this stuff like 'making friends successfully' and 'being accepted by the people around her,' Nimona gets struck off balance by how weird her life has become. Being important to someone. Multiple someones. Who'd've thought?

"Man," she says with a little laugh, "if I could go back and tell past me somebody thought I was important enough to them to get a whole painting..."

She almost looks downright sheepish as she scratches the back of her head.