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rainsometimes[Posting this on Dreamwidth in March 2022 but backdated to the day when I originally posted it on Livejournal on a chaos thread hosted by lady-karasu on LJ. Original context. Reposted on Dreamwidth because the future of Livejournal is very unsure and I'm not sure if this off-the-cuff ficlet has a natural place on AO3. Backdated to better fit in chronologically.]
Characters: Paula, Miss Goldenweek, Miss Valentine
Spoilers/setting: Set after the end of Miss Goldenweek's cover page story
Prompt: Brown
Rating: G
It's a quiet day at the Spider Café. In one corner, Miss Goldenweek is busy painting, not with the strong, vibrant paints she uses for her colour traps, but her softer watercolours. Paula (a.k.a Miss Doublefinger), who pauses to look down at her painting for a moment, sees a small, quiet plaza with a few tables and chairs, trees who've dropped their leaves, houses in different styles around it, sparrows on the ground and a few people sitting down or walking by. There are little leaves here and there all over the painting. The people are small, scrawny, hard to make out; though she does note the man holding an accordion with a 3 on the top of his head. Almost everything is painted in various shades of brown.
Paula says nothing as she returns to the bar. Not long after that, Miss Valentine comes back from the shopping, and she, too, stops by Miss Goldenweek's corner.
"Wow, that sure is a lot of brown. What does that mean, by the way? In water-colours, I mean," she adds, because they already know colour-trap brown equals confusion. But for Miss Goldenweek colours always have meaning, even when it doesn't overtake people's wills.
Miss Goldenweek dips her brush into paint and doesn't answer at first, but then she says, without looking up, "Nostalgia."
Miss Valentine blinks and raises her eyebrows for a moment, then taps the tip of her umbrella on the floor. "Huh! Well... I guess that makes sense, sort of." She looks down at the painting again, pointing at something on it. "I'm not saying I got homesick or anything, but I was just thinking that one house reminds me of the houses in my hometown. Feh, that place was a dump, though!" Shrugging, she spins on her heel and returns to the kitchen.
Paula looks over at her young comrade, still at the same painting, wondering what her intentions might be and what place she might see in those brush strokes. She's not going to tell Miss Goldenweek that the artwork didn't work on her - she's not homesick, not reminded of her distant home island.
All it made her think of was Alabasta, all the various shades of brown under the hard sun, the draught having long made everything dry, barren, withered. The dead leaves on the ground, the tired weariness in the air, the scrawny, half-starved people - it all fits. Except for Miss Goldenweek never having been there, that is. And Paula knows it got greener again later, after their defeat.
She's not about to mention any of that to the others, though, so she just sighs a bit and then goes on getting the bar ready for the evening. She even hums a little just to sound normal. It's getting close to sunset. She wipes off one more glass, remembering cold, clear desert nights.
Characters: Paula, Miss Goldenweek, Miss Valentine
Spoilers/setting: Set after the end of Miss Goldenweek's cover page story
Prompt: Brown
Rating: G
It's a quiet day at the Spider Café. In one corner, Miss Goldenweek is busy painting, not with the strong, vibrant paints she uses for her colour traps, but her softer watercolours. Paula (a.k.a Miss Doublefinger), who pauses to look down at her painting for a moment, sees a small, quiet plaza with a few tables and chairs, trees who've dropped their leaves, houses in different styles around it, sparrows on the ground and a few people sitting down or walking by. There are little leaves here and there all over the painting. The people are small, scrawny, hard to make out; though she does note the man holding an accordion with a 3 on the top of his head. Almost everything is painted in various shades of brown.
Paula says nothing as she returns to the bar. Not long after that, Miss Valentine comes back from the shopping, and she, too, stops by Miss Goldenweek's corner.
"Wow, that sure is a lot of brown. What does that mean, by the way? In water-colours, I mean," she adds, because they already know colour-trap brown equals confusion. But for Miss Goldenweek colours always have meaning, even when it doesn't overtake people's wills.
Miss Goldenweek dips her brush into paint and doesn't answer at first, but then she says, without looking up, "Nostalgia."
Miss Valentine blinks and raises her eyebrows for a moment, then taps the tip of her umbrella on the floor. "Huh! Well... I guess that makes sense, sort of." She looks down at the painting again, pointing at something on it. "I'm not saying I got homesick or anything, but I was just thinking that one house reminds me of the houses in my hometown. Feh, that place was a dump, though!" Shrugging, she spins on her heel and returns to the kitchen.
Paula looks over at her young comrade, still at the same painting, wondering what her intentions might be and what place she might see in those brush strokes. She's not going to tell Miss Goldenweek that the artwork didn't work on her - she's not homesick, not reminded of her distant home island.
All it made her think of was Alabasta, all the various shades of brown under the hard sun, the draught having long made everything dry, barren, withered. The dead leaves on the ground, the tired weariness in the air, the scrawny, half-starved people - it all fits. Except for Miss Goldenweek never having been there, that is. And Paula knows it got greener again later, after their defeat.
She's not about to mention any of that to the others, though, so she just sighs a bit and then goes on getting the bar ready for the evening. She even hums a little just to sound normal. It's getting close to sunset. She wipes off one more glass, remembering cold, clear desert nights.