INTERIOR - A room on the 3rd floor of the Ruttford branch of the Silvo's Inn and Suites, a reasonably nice-leaning inn business in the Windnds. Appeals mostly to travelling merchants and other businessmen. Offers reasonably sized, well-furnished rooms, with spacious and comfortable bathroom appliances. And miniature iceboxes. How nifty!
Presently, the room has been reorganized- The chairs and desks have been moved to one side, and the bed has been pushed as close to the wall as possible. An easel and a set of paints and brushes ys near the center, facing the window, from which the early evening sun shines through.
PRESENT - THE BOY (wearing his usual threadbare, peasant clothes. Currently standing between the window and the easel, with his usual wide-eyed stare, although just a little more thoughtful than usual) MOUSE (Same as before. A tall, lithe, elegant young man, with flowing blonde hair and emerald-gold robes. Currently looking as if he's had the wind taken out of his sails.)
TIME - Early evening. A nice, early-evening sun streams its gentle light through the window. Pretty!
"..." Mouse's mouth hung agape for a moment as the eager light behind his eyes was repced by a dull disappointment. "Well... Alright, then." His shoulders slumped slightly.
The boy had nothing else to input.
Mouse reoriented himself. "Well, shouldn't you be? Our investigation into your existence turned up almost entirely nil, it's as though you simply apparated out of thin air one day, and have been wrought with misfortune ever since. And if my intuition is correct, you're almost as in the dark about your origin as we are, are you not?"
"i know a little more than i have said. but not that much."
"Is *that* not worth knowing?" Mouse leans forward, reigniting the fire in his soul and speaking with renewed enthusiasm. "This gap- it could be integral to discerning the truth of your nature and your existence. Such revetions could redefine your entire being, they could expand the purview of your understanding in untold ways!"
"i do not think so."
"Ah..." The dullness returned to Mouse's eyes.
He sat defted like that for several minutes.
He sighed... And lifted his brush once more. There was still art to be done. No sense wallowing around in this pointless dejection.
He returned his gaze to the easel, and steadied his hand.
Line. Line. Line.
. . .
Hmm...
Mmmmnn...
...mmnnuuuuuuuggggghEVERYTHING SUCKS... Thought Mouse. Not the narrator. In this scene Mouse's thoughts-
THEY GET IT, IDIOT!
Mouse shook his head. Of course, it would be impossible for him to create anything resembling art amidst this mencholy. It simply couldn't be done, it would be ridiculous to believe otherwise.
He had to get something, ANYTHING- some kind of development out of the strange, infuriating boy.
"If it's understanding you seek, why not enroll in The Academy?" He asked, gncing over at the boy. Again. "Of course, they're most well known for their practical courses in magical arts, but in recent years they have expanded their areas of study to other areas of academia. I myself am enrolled in a number of csses focusing on the artistic... Arts."
"i would like to." The boy states, his eyebrows perking up, raising about half a centimeter. "but it appears that admission requires a background check."
"Ah. Yes, an unusually good point. It would be exceedingly difficult for one who does not legally exist to enroll... Though not impossible, if you know the right people."
"i do not know very many humans." The boy's eyebrows lower by a little under two centimeters. "also, hat says that the academy is full of nerds and losers and ##### and fodder and wannabees and insignificant creatures who would be better off as her lunch. i do not think she likes the pce."
"Hmmm..." Mouse cringed, his eyes momentarily taking on a look of concern. "Yes, she... I can see her saying that..." After a moment of silence, Mouse pushed the feeling away, and perked himself up, his eyes wide and glistening with a light of utter triumph. "AT ANY RATE!" He boisterously shouts. "THIS, I CAN WORK WITH."
"okay."
"FINALLY, A HUMAN DESIRE, A TRAGIC LONGING FOR AN UNATTAINABLE SOMETHING- THAT *IS* IT! THAT *IS* ART! WITH THIS, I HAVE AN UNDERSTANDING OF THE HUMAN-adjacent ANIMAL BEFORE ME, AND I CAN AT LAST BEGIN TO CREATE TRUE ART!"
"woo-hoo." Stated the boy.
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Mouse quickly shot himself up and stood, shoving his stool backward. "YOUR WORDS NO LONGER HOLD ANY VALUE HERE! ALL THAT REMAINS IN THIS ROOM IS ME, AND MY MUSE. And ART. And PASSION."
. . .
Mouse coughed.
He sat back down, and lifted his brush again.
Now, his muse guided his hand, and he could hear the Winds whistling a tune of inspiration and bliss into his ears... He may as well paint with his eyes closed. The art, he knew, was already deep within his soul, begging to be set free...
So, he went to work.
. . .
. . .
Mmph... Well, he should still keep his eyes open, actually. For reference. And stuff.
. . .. . .
Nnnnggg...
Hhmmmmmpphphnnhgg...
Hm......................................................rrrrrrrrrrUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-
"GODS MOTHERF#### ### ### ##### ###### #### ######## #### ###### #####-"
Mouse shot up from his stool like a bullet, ripping the easel over the canvas, and sending it towards his knee which he shot upward like an axe.
The fragile canvas was slightly dented upon making contact with Mouse's knee.
Mouse tossed the canvas into the air, and whistled an agonized tune.
Invisible bdes struck in an instant, cutting the piece into innumerable, torn little scraps, all of which gently floated towards the ground.
He'd drawn almost a dozen lines.
