Re: Train tracks: Oliver & Gwen
Colors were surprisingly problematic. The way color was perceived was not truly how color existed. It was perception, which wasn't the same as truth, and then there was the added complication of arbitrary terminology assigned by people. For example, black wasn't a color at all. Black was a lack of color, but it was also the existence of all color in visual perception. It was super confusing, and Gwen didn't spend a lot of time thinking about color. She didn't spend a lot of time thinking about painting and creation either, not until tonight.
He raised a brow at her assertion of death, and she interpreted it as uncertainty about her substantiating data. "Our bodies are experiencing cellular decay at varying rates. We're all dying." Which was maybe totally a buzzkill, and she regretted it just as soon as she said the words.
But his ready admission that she looked sick worried her, and she wondered if the outside air had some detrimental effect that she hadn't been expecting. Panic showed momentarily on her young face, and she dropped the chalk she'd been holding all this time. Dust between her fingertips, she took a few steps back, and she looked around like a feral cat that had been caught without realization. "I better go. It was nice talking to you. Draw more gardens, okay? They really are creation, but if I'm sick I need to get back right away."
She turned, blonde hair swinging in the night as she broke into a run. "BYE!" Because it was polite to exit a social encounter by indicating termination of said encounter.