#reactsto

It was a simple sketch, something you'd just done as practice based on your surroundings. A cornstalk. It's not like Zardy has ever gotten the opportunity to be interested in art previously, to care about shading and rendering and how abstract a piece can be before someone will say “I could draw that.”—So it almost comes to no surprise to you that the one sketch he'd like on that page was one of a plant. And you've never been one to turn down a compliment, so you begun to draw more. Practicing how to shade petals, drawing after various flowers you could find, all of which seemed to please the scarecrow.

One day you'd tried to draw him, and while he'd almost seemed flattered at the sight (something you took great pride in, as he's typically the one to flatter you), he pointed at a buttercup sketch on the other page and told you outright “You should draw more of this, you do it very well.” before nuzzling your hair and moving on to tend to his maze.

When he's not being a workaholic, he'll let you sit in his lap and draw, watching appraisingly if you're drawing any form of flora, but otherwise doing his own thing or napping, taking comfort in your closeness and shared time together.

+1 drabble!

Your pencil slides easily across the page, the sound soothing you during these quieter hours of the night. You purse your lips and squint your eyes at the sketch, brows furrowing. Something feels off.. But what? You click your tongue in disapproval, it's both a curse and a blessing to be your own greatest critic.

You're not oblivious to the feeling of being watched. From the first night you'd come into the maze and well after you'd practically moved in, you were always being watched. You were only slowly getting used to it as days passed, and so it came as to no surprise to you when the scarecrow with stitches for a mouth stalks out of the cornstalks, leaning over you to glance down at your sketchbook.

You offer him an amused glance, and hold it up higher. “See something you like?” There's the weight of his chin on the top of your head, and he huffs despite not needing to breathe, disturbing your hair in the process.

“That,” He raises a gloved hand and points at the unfinished cornstalk drawing you'd been working on. Dirt smears on your page from his dirty glove, but you don't have the heart to tell him off for it. “-is a beautiful cornstalk.” He finishes, his tone appraising.

And you feel all giddy inside for a moment, the compliment giving a quick dopamine rush, before you catch yourself and just simply smile at him. You slightly push his finger away, wiping off some of the dirt on the page. “I don't know.. I feel like it's missing something. Maybe I need to shade it more, somewhere? What do you think?”

He's silent for a couple of moments, like he's considering your words and attempting to puzzle out the right answer. The scarecrow nuzzles the top of your head, muttering "I enjoy that one.” into your hair, before he stalks off again, his hoe scraping the ground behind him.