InsaneJournal

And then she started to paint, swirls of darkness and starlight
Who: Blake and Feyre
What: Painting and chats
Where: A park
When: late July
Status: complete
Rating: PG



Feyre had needed to get out. She felt trapped in her dreams, though she could honestly say that Dream!Her was developing Feelings for Tamlin.

He wasn’t so bad. Nice, friendly… Cursed. Which wasn’t his fault, Feyre just didn’t know what part she was supposed to play, if any, in this game. She’d started learning more about the curse, and the crazed Fae Queen they were all afraid of.

If this was like any other story she’d somehow be the chosen one.

But she needed to get out, to get fresh air and not feel cooped up. Because being cooped up was one of the worse things she could be.

She found a place in the park, setting up her canvas. Today...she’d paint for herself.

If only she could figure out what to paint.

Blake was doing better currently. She had more confidence after being able to help rescue Ilia. She was able to do good and not cause everyone around her to suffer. Though she was also waiting for the other shoe to drop. Due to her past experience, she always knew anything good was quickly destroyed by something bad happening. But she was trying very hard to ignore that voice in her head.

Today, she headed to the park. She still didn’t like being out in public alone, it made her feel anxious, but she went to the park she and Ruby met in for their reading picnics, so that helped. Ruby wasn’t there currently, but Blake sat down under the tree they usually sat by and she started reading. Though eventually she glanced up after finishing a chapter and notice a woman with a canvas near her. That was new, she hadn’t seen anyone painting in the park before.

But given her natural anxiety to being around new people, she didn’t get up from where she was. Instead, she went back to reading, though she did keep an eye on the woman, a bit curious about what she was painting.

"Damn damn damn," Feyre muttered, tapping her brush against her cheek and getting flecks of paint on her face. She looked up, glancing around and hoping for some kind of inspiration. Any kind of inspiration. She could close her eyes, see the Spring Court, and yet... that didn't feel right.

She could close her eyes and see the night sky. She spied a girl reading, secluded in the shadows of a tree.

That gave her an idea. Dark colors, but dark didn't mean bad. Or evil. No, Feyre could find comfort in the dark even if she didn't know why.

She put brush to canvas and started to paint with fervor.

It was always interesting to see an artist at work. Blake noticed when the woman found some inspiration and put brush to canvas. She watched her a bit, curious as to how her picture was forming on the canvas, but she wasn’t quite brave enough to stand up and walk over to the woman. At least not yet.

The night sky - Feyre always returned to the night, though she never really understood why. It spoke to her in ways impossible to put into words. Like she somehow belonged there.

She glanced at the woman, smiling as she painted, and gradually, the painting took form. The night, sparkling, reflected in the sea, and a pair of distant figures aflight over the trees, as if dancing.

Eventually, the woman and the painting were more interesting than her book. So Blake just watched her work, then after seeing the smile on the woman’s face, she did smile back. It was only polite. And, well, she was really curious as to what exactly she was painting. So after a little bit, she finally got up and had the courage to walk over to her.

“Sorry if I’m intruding, I’m just really curious as to what you’re painting,” she said.

Feyre had been so lost in her work that she started when Blake spoke to her. Luckily, she didn’t miss a stroke, pulling her brush away before she did so. She used that hand to push hair out of her face and left a streak of dark paint on her cheek.

“I…” She blinked and stared at her painting. “I don’t know. A night landscape, I think. I was kind of in the zone.”

Blake saw the dark paint streak on the woman’s cheek, but she managed to keep a straight face and not call attention to it. After all, it seemed appropriate for a painter to be covered in paint. Blake glanced at the canvas, a little smile on her face. “It’s beautiful,” she commented. Blake had always liked darker colors. Black and purple tended to be her main colors that she wore.

“The night has always felt safe to me,” Feyre said softly. “Or more welcoming, anyway. There’s something about all those points of light in the sky, and the way the moon casts shadows through trees.”

It was ironic, considering she dreamed of the Spring Court, and how everyone was terrified of the Night Court to the north.

“I can understand. The stars and moon always made it seem like there was something better out there, if I could just find it.” Blake didn’t think that night was any safer than the day, but she did know she’d spent quiet moments at night when she’d be alone looking up at the night sky and wondering what possibilities were out there. Perhaps that was one factor that allowed her to survive everything she had survived, holding onto hope that there was something more to life than pain.

Feyre snorted. There was a time when she’d thought that nothing better could possibly exist. And sometimes she felt that way. No wonder being spirited away by a Fae Lord felt like a nice escape, even if part of her worried about what exactly her fate would be. “Hope is always something hard to find. But it’s there.”

“It sometimes takes years to find it.” Blake said, though she wasn’t going to elaborate on it. She’d only just met this woman, she wasn’t going to dump her life story on her right away. Especially when Blake didn’t always open up about it to the people she trusted.

Suddenly she realized she was being rude. “Oh, I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Blake.”

She nodded, understanding both what Blake said and that she wasn’t going to elaborate on it.

“I’m Feyre,” She added, pronouncing it Fay-rah. “Do you come here often?”

Inwardly, she cringed when she realized that sounded like a bad pickup line, “I mean. The park.”

Luckily for Feyre, Blake hadn’t taken it as being a potential pickup line. She’d assumed Feyre had meant the park. Blake wasn’t dense about pickup lines, but she didn’t jump to that first. “I do, yes. A friend and I usually have reading picnics here. I also just come here to read on my own if I want to get out for a bit.”

“That…. Actually sounds really pleasant,” Feyre admitted. She didn’t really have painting partners. Or many friends of any sort. She could count them on one hand and some of them she didn’t like to see that often anyway. But Blake seemed pleasant enough at first glance.

“It is. I’m not really a people-person and I don’t do well in crowds or in loud places. I prefer the quiet.” Blake didn’t have that many friends either, but she was more finicky on who she let herself get close to. She was guarded, and it was for a very good reason.

“Are you sure we’re not related?” Feyre joked, managing a genuine smile. “I don’t get along well with most people. Just a chosen few.”

“Something we have in common. Though my reason tends to be that people make me anxious as opposed to not getting along with people.” Blake got along fine with people once she got past her anxiety issues. It was just getting past them that sometimes could be difficult.

“That sounds a bit like my middle sister. Elain gets along better with the garden than most people, though if you get close enough to her she’s a fierce friend.” She was also the only thing she and her eldest sister agreed on; Elain must be protected at all costs.

“It seems she and I have a bit in common. Books are easier to get along with than people for me.” Blake didn’t dislike people, she just had a natural distrust of them and their intentions. After all, she knew from experience that the worst definitely happened, so she always expected the worst.

Feyre rarely had time to read, though she could, unlike her dream self who was completely illiterate. But she could understand that. Both from observing her sister and her own reaction to most people. “Introverts unite?”

“Definitely introverts unite.” Blake said with a smile. She looked at the painting again. “You’re very talented. Do you sell your artwork or do you just paint for yourself?” She was curious on that front.

“I’ve been doing commissions and… street art. Caricatures and that sort of thing. It helps with the bills. I won a contest for a tablet and new laptop and …” Feyre wrinkled her nose, “People would pay a lot for the weirdest crap and I’ll be honest, I’m desperate enough to sell out and draw someone’s dog persona or whatever.”

Blake nodded a bit, definitely not judging any of what Feyre said. Everyone did what they had to to get money. So long as it wasn’t illegal or hurting people, Blake never judged someone. “I can imagine some people want really crazy stuff. Though even if you sell out, at least you’re still doing art, right? Practicing what you clearly love doing?”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed. Though no one had asked her for anything too creepy yet. She wasn’t sure at what point she’d say no - or how much money she’d take to say yes to drawing it anyway. But hell, if it wasn’t harming someone she could do it. “I can imagine a few things that I’d try to avoid though.”

“That’s probably a good thing. Some things you should avoid regardless of whether or not you need money.” Even for money, or the love of art, one should not subject themselves to things they didn’t like or had a personal aversion to. There were other potential customers that could fill the gap.

“Don’t do anything you’re really uncomfortable with,” Feyre agreed. It was a lesson, and a hard won one, for her. She leaned back a bit, looking at her canvas, then back at Blake. Thoughtful, she asked, “What do you like? Or uhm, what’s something that … speaks to you.”

She tapped her chest, “In here.”

Blake was now attempting to adhere to only doing things she was comfortable with. It was something she was trying to teach herself. It was okay to say no if she didn’t want to do something. Though she definitely still expected to be hit right after saying no, but that would take time before she undid that programming.

At the question, she had to think for a moment. “Until recently, I would’ve said books. But now I think it’s helping people who can’t help themselves.”

Feyre nodded. She could respect that, and it was something she would agree with and do herself if she wasn’t expending so much energy just keeping her family afloat.

“It’s a good thing.” Feyre chewed her lip, “Would you like a painting?” She wasn’t sure how to translate selflessness into paint, but she could figure something out. “No charge, except your company while I work on it.”

“Really? I mean, yes I would. Though are you sure about the no charge?” Blake would pay for a painting. Though she wasn’t completely certain what she’d like, but she’d leave that up to the artist. After all, art tended to be better when the artist chose the subject.

“Yes,” Feyre assured her. Though she barely knew this woman, she felt like there was something about her she could trust. At the very least, she could see her falling into that same sort of place where Feyre begrudged affection to her family and painted things for her sisters even though she wanted to strangle them half the time.

Without the strangling. Was that what normal friendship was like?

And then she started to paint, swirls of darkness and starlight; and a hand reaching for another hand, offering aid.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. Sometimes Blake wasn’t quite sure what a normal friendship was like, she didn’t have much experience with what normal was in her life. In either life, to be honest. She watched as Feyre started to paint, rather entranced by how the painter worked. She also was curious to see how the picture took shape, and what it would ultimately end up being.