snowyyland

I delete posts often (both reblogs and my own), and I apologize very deeply if something I reblog from you gets deleted— it isn’t something I do out of dislike or anything

One last thing. He took up a small amount of the brightest-red pigment he could find and detailed the gem on their chest, slowly, hesitantly. Their symbol of courage, that which they always looked to during moments of fear and doubt. Reala had similar shapes patterned down his body, etched into his skin, blue to purple to red, but they had never once brought him courage or hope or any good virtue. 

“It’s done.”

Jackle looked over to his companion with a wry smile, jaws grit tightly in his best effort to not laugh. Of course he was glad to see Reala seemingly enjoying himself, but the painting! One could definitely tell this was Reala’s first experience with art. It was… charming, at least, and Jackle would have been more than happy to teach him further if Reala was willing to learn. 

Jackle’s eyes shot open, nearly glowing blue in the darkness. “Oh, it— it’s good!” And he clasped a gloved hand to his mouth so hard it almost hurt, desperate to not shriek with hilarity. “It definitely looks like NiGHTS.”

Reala didn’t acknowledge him. “I don’t think they would like it very much,” he observed, stepping around the canvas, examining his work from different angles. He could practically hear his sibling’s voice now— in the same smug, teasing tone they always used when Reala happened to do something incorrectly, be it hunting or scaring or trying to enjoy painting, but they would say it was all in good fun, all siblings tease each other, they had been joking. Reala glared at it. “It looks like a child painted it.” That was what they would have said, too, though laughing.

“That’s to be expected,” Jackle told him, “it takes practice.”