Re: Train tracks: Oliver & Gwen
To Gwen, everything was creation. Not in the biblical or romanticized sense, but every organism on the planet created themselves daily. Cells died, and new cells were born. The entire premise behind biological organisms was creation. It totally sucked that the term had become inseparable with religion, because it didn't have anything to do with faith. There was a wonder to it, and Gwen wasn't sure he understood. But she kind of thought most people didn't appreciate the wonder of the human body, which was the most super amazing thing, so how could they appreciate the delicate biological wonder that was a flower garden?
Gwen was born under a spotlight. It wasn't the kind of spotlight found on a stage or movie set, but it was still a spotlight. Laboratory lights overhead, and she'd been examined and poked and prodded. She was a permanent forever-mark, and that wasn't something the could contest. She didn't want to contest it, either. She had a purpose, and it was vast and important, and she was willing to fulfill whatever was required of her. She wasn't sure how that aligned with drawing chalk gardens under moonlight, but she was totally turning a blind eye to the momentary dearth of logic accompanying that particular situation.
She considered his question about waking. She considered it carefully, for a long span of quiet, because questions posed required careful attention. It wasn't that her thought processes were slow, but she wasn't super sure how she felt about a lot of stuff yet. "I always wake up and want similar things, but I'm not sure the scope of things I know to want is vast enough to allow for the variety you're indicating. I'm kind of simple about stuff, and I'm not sure wanting birds negates wanting flowers. There isn't necessarily correlation."
She crouched carefully, like a girl worried about messing up a party dress, and she pulled two pieces of chalk from the bag. Pink and blue, and she drew one line on the train tracks with each, before turning her face up to him and smiling that dimpled smile once more. "Where did you learn to make gardens?" She pulled out a yellow piece of chalk, and she held it out to him. "In case you want to draw a bird." For her part, she began writing equations in long strings on rusted metal.