pris and her upset and idle hands ][ openish

by Guest Mon Jun 15, 2009 9:43 pm

[this thead is open so long as your think your character can contribute something inspired by the spirit of this story! please poke me first before posting.]

"idle hands are the devil's tools, cilly." even though he'd mentioned the devil she remembered shrieking and laughing because daddy was telling her this as he sprinkled a handful of flour on her head. she remembered they were making pizza together. she remembered she stopped punching at the dough to shake the flour from her hair. "it's a saying but it's especially important to our family, okay? just like i can't, never let yourself have idle hands." she remembered the day he said that was on her birthday and that day she was eleven-years-old.

normally when pris remembered daddy she did drawings. she kept a second sketch book in her bag for them. because those were the drawings no one ever saw. she had four of those sketch books filled at home and hidden in her closet where no one could ever find them - pris had sewn giant pockets on the inside of two dresses that didn't fit her anymore and the books were in there. no one would ever think to check a hanging up dress in a closet that had no pockets on the outside and only strappy sleeves like both of them were. when she was remembering it was never just one drawing. it was a series of them, scribbles, streaks and smudges out as fast as her fingers could go and stopping only after her mind became unstuck and she could think other thoughts that weren't daddy again.

when pris was the one that found her daddy,
it was the day she realized she'd lost her daddy.
rope and more rope, slithering as it hanged,
wasn't something a thirteen-year-old should see.
wasn't something a fourteen-year-old,
fifteen or sixteen-year-old should still see,
but every time she remembered she missed him,
every memory was twisted in rope rope and rope.

but today there were memories and drawing wasn't working. again. and taking buses and buses hadn't worked either. neither had going to the horse track or shopping or anything else she'd tried to do to keep her hands busy. even climbing to the top of this sculpture that looked like a cross between a dome jungle gym and a spider web hadn't helped.

because that's where pris had ended up. in the sculpture garden where she'd met that one lonely man last time. seth. who kept asking her questions and who wouldn't climb the sculpture with her because he was afraid of heights. he wasn't here today. she was alone sitting on top of the fifteen foot tall work of art. today was the first day she hadn't worn a gown in honor of her blossoming. maybe it was instinct, maybe somewhere deep down she knew she'd end up here needing to climb. but she still had her rainbow dyed hair. with her color smudged apron on and her special sketch book in her lap one leg dangled down through the gaps in the metal and she didn't seem afraid to be up there. to her it was like flying without wings.

and from here she could see everything. everything that could be seen, at least. that's what pris was doing at the moment, not drawing. looking here there and everywhere at a speed that was almost frantic as it switched from object to object to object like she was afraid to settle her eyes in one spot. her hands seemed to have the same fear, the fear of sitting still. idle hands wringing themselves as if her fingers were a piece of wet clothing fresh out of the wash and she was trying to squeeze the water out so all was dry. the compulsive ferocity of her wringing was just an insight into the state of her mind as she remembered.

"idle hands are the devil's tools,
rain rain go away,
idle hands have lost the work of school's
out come back another day."

the impromptu poem was murmured to herself with a grimace that showed discomfort, and once she'd made up that rhyme she started it over again and used it as a chant. school was out, and that was part of the problem - too much time. her blossoming was another part. while the part of the blossoming that had made her panic was over for now, it didn't change the fact that things were changing for priscilla grace ganesvoort. for most teenagers puberty meant a change in how they felt about those people of the gender that attracted them, for pris it meant her hands had changed. because her kind of chemical imbalance, mild as it was, worsened with puberty.

so blossoming was making her understand. for the first time. what her daddy really meant by idle hands.

by Guest Mon Jun 15, 2009 11:26 pm

but daddy couldn't tell pris what the solution could be. he had died in rope, rope and rope.

so pris was on her own. eyes jerking from here to there to there to there and there even there. on the 'even there', they stopped. and stared. it was the direction she'd refused to look in the first time she was here, and it was the direction she'd been avoiding looking in so far today. but now that she had looked there, she couldn't look away.

it was the beach. and the ocean. only a block down the road.

she never let water come near her unless it was in rain, in a cup, or in a shower ever since she found daddy. it was because of what she remembered of the two weeks before he died.

she remembered that daddy had spent most of those two weeks in their oversized bathtub. with bathing trunks on of course. just floating on the surface of the water, he only came out to sleep and rarely did he come out to eat. she remembered he hadn't gone to work even though work kept calling. pris remembered that she would spend time with him, sitting on the closed toilet seat and telling him about school and what had been on television and what had gone on outside while he floated and listened. she remembered asking him why he had been spending so much time floating. she remembered that he said, "it helps me think, cilly. when i'm floating i can think clearer than i can think anytime anywhere else. and i've got a lot of hard thinking that i have to do."

no one had realized until after the ropes that he had stopped taking his medication during those two weeks. everyone said he let the ropes get him because he wasn't thinking clearly. but because of what daddy said to her, pris believed opposite - that the water had made him think straight. from that day on she looked at water differently. as a thought-straightener. ever since then pris wasn't so sure that it would ever be a good idea for her to do something that would straighten out her thoughts. not after what her daddy did once his thoughts were straightened.

but now that she was staring at the ocean, and remembering that she was wringing her hands so hard they were turning red. and not the normal turning red from using alizarin crimson. a hurt kind of red. "idle hands are the devil's tools, rain rain go away, idle hands have lost the work of school's out come back another day." it was whimpered. she didn't want to keep wringing her hands anymore. but she couldn't stop. not without a solution. so she had to do something. she had to make something. to keep her hands from being idle.

and that's when she saw it. and had a light bulb. sand.

sand, sand, sand. she repeated the thought to herself as a promise to her hands so that they would be good. first she stuffed her sketch pad into her bag still strapped over her shoulder. then she climbed down. foot hand foot hand was the way to make it down. she was quick and easy at it like a cat for the whole fifteen feet. because pris didn't mind heights. soon she was walking, leaving the sculpture garden behind. crossing the street, walking the block. repeating that single word promise to her mind in time with her marching to keep her hands from wringing some more.

it wasn't until she reached the wood planks that she stopped. the planks made a pathway. onto the beach. plank plank plank until the planks just stopped and all that was left was sand. and water. pris stared out at this reality. her hands rubbing against her apron nervously - a compromise she made with them to keep them from wringing. could she do this?

"idle hands are the devil's tools," she said it firmly to herself. in other words, she had to. she had to get this memory out, or dommy-donnie-anybody would see she was trapped in an episode and they'd make her lay down with the white walls take some medicine and rest. she didn't want white walls, she didn't want medicine and she didn't want rest. so facing the big body of water was her only choice.

pris bravely marched forward. even though sand was creeping into her blue mary janes, she didn't take them off. not until she found a spot she liked. she walked all the way down to where the sand was wet but where the water wasn't coming anymore. she dropped her bag. she kicked off her shoes. she squished her stocking toes into the wet mush. now that she was near the water her rainbow hair blew all over in the ocean breeze. but she didn't tie it back. instead she dropped to her knees, reached her arms out wide, and pulled armfuls and armfuls of wet sand towards her.

she didn't care that she and her clothes were getting wet. she didn't care that she and her clothes were getting sandy. she just started to sculpt to cure her idle hands.

[opened. please poke me before posting]

by Epiphany Fri Jun 19, 2009 2:29 am

The only natural thing that was more calming to Epiphany than the ocean was actually being on it. Feeling the rock of the boat underfoot as it flowed along the currents and the breeze across her skin and through her hair. Some people would tell tales of an angry sea that sought only to swallow up seafarers and deliver them to the murky depths. Others told tales of a clam sea without wind, leaving travelers stagnant for hours on end.

The sea was a person’s boon or their agony, but for Epiphany it was a first love and she accepted it's many moods. She had set aside time today to be with this love and was stationed at the far left side of the beach from the plank bridge Pris had walked down from. She was sitting in the sand, bare legs stretched out with sand clinging to them like spilled glitter. The top of her thighs were covered by a heavy white sheet that continued out a few feet to her side and came together at her hand and met with the needle in her other hand. She was mending a sail.

Her back was against the side of a ship. It wasn't a grandiose ship or anything like that; it was a small skiff about twenty feet long and ten feet wide. Nothing motorized, it looked to be powered by sails – that she was currently mending – and oars, the tips of them sticking out from the boat.

Epiphany had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, but the breeze that swept up from the ocean pulled at stray strands and moved them along her face. She had been diligently working on the sail when she heard the sound of someone else. Saw the glimmer of movement when she looked up to stretch her neck. So, someone was here.

Not many people came down to the beach – the majority of them were down at the docks with the boats – so this was good. Now that she saw her, she couldn’t very well ignore that she was there for Epiphany was already growing curious.

Narrowing her eyes to see better in the light she thought she recognized the girl. From the Inn maybe? There were not many people she can across who dressed in colorful clothing – she herself was looking like a character out of Robinson Caruso with her tattered top and very high cut ripped jean shorts. Name. Name. What was the name. Pris?

She put down the sail, marking her place with the needle, and dusted her legs off as she stood. It looked like Pris was building something and this made Epiphany smile. Digging in the sand was wonderful, though she never did it with anyone else. Perhaps….

But Epiphany wouldn’t simply run over, that was not her style, she could never simply say hi to someone without doing something else as well. Therefore she looked around her skiff and the banks of the shoreline for shells, just a few about the size of her palm. Cream color, one with pink veins, and another that was shaped like a conch. When she had them Epiphany headed over to the girl who was digging in the sand.

“Hi,” she said with a smile. “Sea shells go great with sand sculptures.” Epiphany had stopped at a good distance away as she didn’t want to be imposing or step on anything Pris was working on.

She bent at the knees, dropping to the ground and set down the three shells. “Can I join?”

by Guest Mon Jun 22, 2009 10:54 pm

pris had a demand for a lot of sand. that's what it seemed like. because as soon as the pile she had in front of her was too big for her to reach her arms out forward to scoop, she'd reached her arms out to either side to scoop. and then scooted back, and then she pushed sand forward with her hands into the pile. it was when she was pushing sand forward like a living bulldozer that epiphany had come over. because her pile had a very wide base of almost four feet around, it had to be nearly three feet tall. about as tall as pris when she 'stood' on her knees.

even though she didn't look up at epiphany right away pris' reply made it obvious that she'd heard her. "sea shells. are you selling them, sally?" surely epiphany knew the rhyme. and so did pris, but within that rearranged repetition of the rhyme pris was also asking an honest question. which was why she glanced up at epiphany to study her, even though it was briefly before looking back down at the sand she was almost finished bulldozing. "i don't have any money really. six colors of hair dye and i didn't even use half of any jars." hair dye was not cheap, especially when you were sixteen and jobless. and she had a lot of leftovers because though the streaks of each color were chunky and her hair was long, there was enough in each jars for a whole head of hair to be colored, not one-sixth of a head of hair. or even less than that, since there were still streaks of black here and there.

then pris got down low to the ground, so she could really get some leverage to push two more large loads of sand to join the rest. after all her efforts, there was a small circular canyon around the base of the sand pile, which would actually help to make a very nice clean base when she was done. for now, it looked like a dry moat begging for water. but pris didn't listen to the begging. she sat up on her knees again, and looked at the epiphany sitting in the sand with her. "i know you. you're the epiphany." it was stated as a matter of fact. like epiphany had asked her that very question.

after that realization pris' eyes were making a different kind of study. not ping ponging between the epiphany and the area around them. more concentrated than that, just looking at different spots on epiphany. pris gaze was slower to switch from place to place than it normally was. because in her untamed mind she fighting off an episode. oh the things pris would see if she stared at any one place. it would become a whole different world. right now the eccentric girl was pretty sure she didn't want to deal with a whole different world. being on the beach so close to such a huge body of her father's clear thinking solution was risky enough.

"i have. kissed a. boy since. that day." she said it in the same rhythm the epiphany had been talking in the night they met. when epiphany was juggling. one could never tell what pris would remember and what she'd forget and what she'd argue with you had or hadn't happened. but the rhythm of how they'd been speaking that night, that cemented that pris would remember. like all those poems her doctor had her memorize.

that was all pris said on the subject though. not who or when or what. in fact she changed the conversation entirely as her eyes went to inspect above epiphany's eyes. "do you want your hair to have some colors?" after she asked that pris turned back to her sculpture. or what was going to be her sculpture. she started at the top. packing the sand tight and starting to shape it into the general form she wanted so that once she was done packing she could start chipping away to create. as she packed she said all in one breath, "i can do it for you. i'm very good at it. i color mine all the time. but i use special products too. so the chemicals in the colors don't kill my hair. i haven't cut my hair since i was thirteen. i won't." cutting her hair was one thing pris refused to do ever since father passed. she even threw tantrums when anyone tried to trim it. it was an attachment that must say 'the same'.

by Epiphany Wed Jun 24, 2009 4:07 pm

While Pris never said ‘yes’ that Epiphany could join, she didn’t say ‘no’ either and therefore it was taken as the former. Surely if it was a no then Pris would do, or say something, especially when Epiphany started scooping up the sand around her and making a mound outside of the moat. Nice and would have been more round if she was actively trying to make a shape but, as she was just gathering sand, it was only a mound. They were going to have plenty of sand for whatever object they decided to make!

At the question of if she was selling seashells . . .

“There was a person here, at the start of the day,” Epiphany began to speak while making her pile, those shells still laying in plain sight. “I saw her collecting shells, but she didn’t stay. It’s possible that she sells seashells by the seashore. But me, Epiphany, can’t sell, you see. My prices are low, the market is high, and of their rates I cannot buy.

“So I take the shells, and stay leery of bells, as I walk along the sea. Till with an eye, I spy, something not taken by the tide. The shells they jump, the shells they dance, at the prospect of a chance. To be on display, what a lucky day! And to think, that this gift is free.”

And that’s what Epiphany called a reply as to whether or not she was selling, all of it brought about from the lyrical line. She liked to be creative and have fun, only most people did not care for that side. But here she was, on the beach and dressed like a castaway, and digging in the sand with another creative soul. Pris had to be creative from the way she dressed. Right?

Digging in the sand caused it to give birth to other things, like small broken pieces of shell and bits of seaweed. Maybe even the occasional bottle cap. If Epiphany found any of these things she put them off to the side in their own pile. “You know we could grind the weed, pull out the color, and have a type of dye for the sand.” She said this in normal tones, keeping her hands busy, though she looked up to smile at Pris here and there, and a definite sparkle to her eyes.

“I’ve never had color in my hair for long. I’ve had black streaks in it before, but after a while I grew tried of them and they didn’t go with all the things I wore.” How long was a while? “Lucky for me it was washable. Came right out after a good wash. I had dyed it for I guy I kissed. But maybe you can dye a part of my hair too and we skip that whole kissing part.” There was a point or purpose for much of what Epiphany said, and what she got finished saying was a perfect lead in for: “Did you do anything for the guy you kissed? What did he say?”

A small frown and she paused in her digging, taking a finger and idly drawing a smiley face in her mound of sound. “I also have cut my hair before, because of ill feelings towards a guy that I kissed so…..Your hair must be really long.”

She did say she hadn’t cut it since she was thirteen.

by Guest Wed Jun 24, 2009 11:31 pm

pris had a bad habit of not doing the polite things. like accepting offers or invitations or introducing herself or using the golden words of please and thank you. sometimes she thought she should try to. other times she actually did try to. but those kind of things always got trapped in her throat and they never came out. blocked. they weren't the only things that bubbled inside the eccentric girl that were blocked from being let free. but if pris hadn't been okay with the epiphany wanting to join her, boy did the teenager have access to ways of making that obvious if she wanted. so the epiphany didn't have to worry about that. pris was fine with this company.

as the epiphany spoke her poem answer back to pris, the odd girl continued to pack her sand nice and firm into the desired shape. she worked quickly even though this was a new medium for her, creating a unified structure out of the pile of sand on top of the four foot wide base. already the tall pile was shaping up to be a fat pillar. pillars were almost as good to start from as blocks. even better than blocks if you wanted to work in rounded lines instead of straight ones. which pris did. she was feeling round today. maybe it was the water, its rounded lines affecting her mood without her knowing it.

"what's wrong with bells?" that was the one thing the epiphany said that didn't make sense to pris. that stuck out. everything else just sank in, leaving her mind nagging at her and demanding an answer to its question about bells. she didn't have an answer. and she wasn't in the mood to make one up. which is why she asked the epiphany. some people weren't safe to ask questions, or it wasn't worth asking them questions. but the epiphany, pris decided, was safe enough for that.

pris didn't look at epiphany to ask the question. she didn't even glance at the blonde beside her until the epiphany said she cut her hair because of ill feelings about a guy she kissed. that made pris pause. her fixating mind's demand yet again for an answer was immediate, and pris knew there was no point in trying to do, think, or say anything until an answer was had. so strange little pris sat back and dropped her hands away from her sand. "was he climbing it? up to your tower? and his lips were sour? so you cut your hair, to make him fall into neverwhere?" her green eyes bounced here there and everywhere over epiphany with great curiosity thinking her rapunzel. she'd never met a fiction before. the closest thing was the wolf and the witch in the book she'd taken from her school library. and she still didn't know how she felt about them. well she knew how she felt about the witch. but not the wolf.

thinking about the book and its wolf made a little frown tugged down the corners of her lips. her eyes darted to a small piece of seaweed, and she stretched out to pick it up between two of her small fingers. as she petted it and explored its texture as she added, "my hair is long when it unfurls, back to straight from all these curls." still rhyming. the epiphany had rhymed back at her and since pris was struggling to keep herself from slipping into an otherworld episode, the rhyming would actually help to keep her focused. what pris replied was true, of course. her hair when it was straight reached all the way down her back.

pris started to grind the piece of seaweed between her fingers. to see what shade of color stained her skin when the piece of plant was squished. the grade of color was very important. the color would inform pris' decision to use it for her sculpture or not. her eyes on the plant she was mercilessly rubbing between her fingers like a human mortar and pestle, she replied distantly to the epiphany, "there's something that's been missed, i don't know which boy you mean that i kissed."

pris...had kissed more than one boy? true story! three true stories, to be exact. but it wasn't the stories that mattered to pris right now. she shifted onto her hands and knees, leaning close to the sandy ground as she smeared the tips of her seaweed stained fingers against the grains. to see what hue it colored them. that was even more important than what shade the seaweed color was on her skin. scrutinizing the results, pris hummed a few atonal notes to herself before she looked up at epiphany from her low crouch to say. "do you think there are others, i wish there were some more colors."

a girl who had rainbow hair wishing she had more colors? that probably wasn't a surprise. even if there weren't other colors, pris thought that the dark color of the seaweed could be good to use for shading to help create an illusion of greater depth than what actually was.

by Epiphany Fri Jun 26, 2009 9:03 pm

"Once upon a time, more or less, that guy had made reference to my hair and letting it down," there was a quiet type of laughter in her voice and a reminiscent edge. Clearly Epiphany was answering Pris' question about being Rapunzel. Though the next part might not help support that she wasn't. "I was working in my tower and he called up to me from down below. So I stopped what I was doing and looked out from the balcony at him."

She was watching Pris make that perfectly round pillar base. Epiphany had never been able to make a perfect circle unless she traced something that already was or used one of those tools that designers used. There were a few thin sticks that she had found in the sand and so she started to string them together as best she could. "Should I make a bridge? To make a way across the moat?" It was a side note. She had gathered enough sand to give to Pris if she needed more and there wasn't enough close by for her to get. You could run out of sand at a beach...

Anyway.

"He asked me to let him up so I did. And he climbed up and into my room. He liked to play with my hair." Who knew that Epiphany liked to talk? A small handful of people. She didn't talk a lot all the time, perhaps she was comfortable. Or perhaps it was because her hands were busy. Then again, it could simply be because she had something to talk about.

"So, sounds like something happened when you had your kiss - or because of it?" Ending in a question her right eyebrow rose with her curiousity.

Her twig bridge was coming along well. It was comprised of a few thin sticks tied together to sum up six inches on either side. The sticks were made to arch by another bit of seaweed pulling on either end. Not to mention a few smaller stickes placed horizantally between the two vertical sticks to keep the sides separated. Now all she had to do was fill in the gaps. Maybe she could find some leaves.

"I'd like to hear the story. Who was the guy and how'd it happen? And the thing about bells is that they make noise. People can hear you coming and that's not good if you're trying to be quiet."

There was something else too and Epiphany had almost forgotten about it until she picked up a bit of seaweed. "Oh! Seaweed, right." she tapped her finger on her bridge. "I'm sure there's more. Though the darker colors are mostly in the shallow part of the water."

Ending that with a nod to the ocean.

[/color]

by Guest Sun Jun 28, 2009 11:44 pm

the epiphany was also the rapunzel. pris was meeting a lot of people from books lately it seemed. "is it comfortable inside a book? it looks very flat or are there bigger spaces between the lines than it seems like? my english teacher always tells me i'm really bad at reading between the lines and that i should try harder to do that, but i didn't realize those kind of things were between the lines...." from the ground where the sand was streaked with color pris lifted her own green eyes. to look at rapunzel epiphany. because she was one of those kind of things. just with shorter hair than she'd had in the story.

pris paused as she sat up from the ground, brushing her sandy greened fingers off on her color-streaked apron. she looked hesitant but she had to ask what was on her mind or else the thought would never leave her alone. "do you know the wolf? he's in a book of mine, back in my room, but i've been bad and i haven't opened him up will he die without air?" that idea seemed to bother her. "i'm not very good with books...." she added in her defense in a slightly sullen mumble. "when he talks to me it makes me nervous..."

but the the rapuzel epiphany's question took the eccentric girl by surprise and switched up her thought tracks. "a bridge...?" she echoed with a perplexed whisper whisper. her mind raced to try and figure out why there would need to be a bridge to her sculpture. "do you think the crabs will crawl across and claim my art for their castle?" her eyes widened as they darted here there and everywhere on the smooth packed sculpting surface. she wasn't exactly sure how she felt about crabs invading her art. but then again..."maybe they can snip the tangles and knots with their pinchers..." it was said soothingly to herself as pris 'stood' up tall on her knees and started from the top

"it made us friends. so boom didn't get his shin kicked. yet." she made sure to answer that as her nail smoothly flaked sand off in quick strokes. it would be hard to tell what pris was sculpting for a good while. it was even possible since this was sand and new for her that it would be impossible to tell what she was scultping even after she was done. but for now she'd just begun. her eyes stayed on task as she added, "his kiss tasted like an electric socket. and he gave me fancy new colors in special paper that a woman wrapped up for him with bows. they're different than any colors i've ever had before. i painted his face with them and he didn't mind. so he's allowed to be my hero again. but i still like donnie duck more."

that last part was said firmly. possessively, even. the doctor was her most precious duck, and everyone needed to know that. the sixteen-year-old was rather territorial about those who cared for her, maybe because she'd lost both of her parents and only had one member of her family still in her life. when epiphany mentioned the shallow end, pris stared at epiphany with wide eyes. "water. um." pris shifted as her eyes played ping pong between the rapunzel epiphany and the waves washing up on the shore. "um. um." pris looked stuck.

but then she blurted out a bit too firmly, "sand is an important color by itself." an excuse. to not have to go into the water. if they didn't use colors she wouldn't have to.

by Epiphany Tue Jun 30, 2009 9:56 pm

It was about time that someone finally realized that Epiphany was from a book. How else could she have had all those experiences throughout her life and still survive if she wasn’t a fictional character?

Though she may not actually be a fictional character that didn't mean that she didn't wish she were. To compensate for it she often thought of life as being it's own story and she - along with the other people - members of the cast. Sure, she could correct Pris and tell her that she didn't actually live in a book, but she didn't want to. And so, to answer the question, she took it hypothetically: the book being the world and the spaces between the lines being life. "I'm not the only one living in a book. You are too and it's full of your life’s stories with pages being added to it all the time." Shame of the matter is that some people’s stories were so mundane that no one would want to read it.

"What is written between the lines, Pris, can be different for everyone. Your teacher shouldn't tell you what you do and do not see. Preposterous," Epiphany emphasized that with a solid nod and squaring her shoulders.

"My teachers always had a habit of telling me what I do and do not see. Adults. Feh." And that was that, and her bridge was done.

The question about the crabs made Epiphany laugh as she set up the bridge, fixing it in the sand so that it was secure; she even took a bit of extra sand and patted it around the base and top. “They can keep it looking nice and they can ward off any other creatures that want to invade.” The thought of a crab army was comical, not to mention it would make a good story.

Then Pris told her story about the kiss, and the smile stayed on Epiphany’s face. She knew who ‘Boom’ was – or he assumed that it was Thor, and he was Blake, and she liked Blake (perhaps not in the same way as Pris). The only thing that was slightly confusing was that the kiss had made the two of them friends. Were they not friends before? “You two were not friends before the kiss,” the best way to figure out a question was to ask! “Or...was it a fight you all had and the kiss made it better?” He did end up buying her special colors. The way some things went, the guy would give the girl something in ways of an apology.

Was Pris scared of the water? The way she looked at it had Epiphany wondering. Or maybe the other female didn’t want to get her clothes wet? That could be it. It was one thing to get your clothes all full of sand, and quite another to have them clotted with wet sand. Then she remembered that night at the bar and Pris saying she had never been to the beach.

“It’s okay, the water won’t sweep you away unless you go to far. We can even lay on the sand and reach forward with our hands and ‘fish’ for seaweed and even extra shells and rocks and pretty things.” She added the last with a smile.

“I won’t let the water take you away.”

by Guest Fri Jul 03, 2009 4:39 pm

"oh i'm not a living in a book," she told the rapunzel epiphany with a confidence that was almost serene as the girl continued to flick away bits of sand from her sculpture. "i'm in a painting. i'm a sky and i'm so high up no one can touch me to make me fade no matter how badly they want to, that's what poof said, and he gave me the painting as proof. it's in donnie duck's room covered up. i don't want it whispering at me when i'm trying to sleep." that was all a true story, especially the part about pris not wanting her painting self whispering at her at night. she had enough trouble falling asleep as it was.

pris fell silent for a moment, her emerald green eyes fixed on the sand in front of her as she slashed and dashed sand away from the top of her sculpture with her nails and the very tips of her fingers. it was a mostly round shape, that looked like it had a cord wrapping around it - if the sand dried too much it was going to be a miracle if the cord stayed intact, sticking out as it was from the rest of the structure. pris didn't seem to be worried about that, her fingers traveling lower on the structure to scoop out sand in slightly bigger slices. soon the top foot of the sculpture was going to look like a bust, with the cord wrapped head and a neck and shoulders.

"donnie's an adult," pris countered finally in a slightly stubborn tone. "so is dommy. and poof. and most of the people who will talk to me. i hate people my age. boom's an adult too. i thought we were friends. that night when he came to save us when i called him. but then he wouldn't kiss me. friends don't not kiss. but when he came to apologize he kissed. so we're friends." that was explained patiently, as if pris felt like epiphany didn't understand the rules of kissing based on her question.

"but donnie and i are better friends," pris would assert that again as she sculpted a neck and shoulders that were also wrapped in similar cords as the head. "someday we're going to make sprouts together." poor donald. pris had all sorts of fantasies in her mind about blossoms and seeds and sprouts ever since the day she 'blossomed'. "and we're going to make sprouts before the bitchwitch makes sprouts because i have prettier blossoms. and she's. just. a wilter." leave it to pris to make a process like wilting a title. someday de'ryanna was going to have a door covered with wilting flowers, knowing pris.

this entire time pris' eyes were on her sculpture, and not on epiphany. the odd girl did see out of the corner of her eyes that epiphany had made a bridge, but pris wasn't letting herself look at it. or its maker. there was a reason for that, and it had to do with the water. she was avoiding those things epiphany said about the water, even with her mind itching at her whining about it in her thoughts.

"lay on the sand." she finally echoed that part of what epiphany said in a quiet mumble to herself. "then my thoughts won't float." she made a bitter lemon face as she weighted the options, making one of those high pitched little whining sounds that were her trademark when she was stuck in a decision. "sand is a nice color by itself," pris reminded herself as she squirmed a bit on her knees to reach a different part of her sculpture. as she sliced at the sand with her nail, a part that was supposed to be cord flaked off and fell. now she realized the what the problem with this sculpture would be as the san started to dry. she frowned. "hm. hm. hm." for the first time her eyes darted away, looking at the breaking waves. "seaweed could be rope and it won't dry up and run away."

it was a good idea. but it was also a bad idea. because it meant going near that water. "only laying on the sand," she said emphatically to epiphany. "i can't let my thoughts float they shouldn't be allowed to swim"

by Epiphany Tue Jul 07, 2009 12:51 am

"Is it very colorful, to be in a painting?" It had to be. The few times Epiphany had seen her she wore a lot of color.

Pris was making a captive wearing restraints - that's what Epiphany saw when she looked at what the other was making in the sand. It didn't have a face yet or anything to well defined, but she had a good imagination and could make out a sword battle from blades of grass. And a story to go with it of course. She missed her calling to be a Muse.

Anyway... What else could it be where those lines looked like tied bindings? Not to mention Pris had said thing about the seaweed. "It will dry, the seaweed," she commented. "But if you get enough and tie them together it will dry like a type of rope and hold well." She had used it many times to secure objects together.

Epiphany rose up from the sand and dusted off the sand from her hips and fingertips. "And I didn't mean adults like adults. But more like Adult-Adults, you know, like the teacher you mentioned." Sometimes she forgot that people didn't use the word 'Adult' like she did, as determined by actions rather than age. Just in case Pris was giving her an odd look or confused, Epiphany stated: "Boring people with no imagination at all."

She was never going to be one of those adults, not even if she lived to be hundreds of years old. "The guys you mentioned I'm sure are not Adult-adults for Blake can be a but quirky and Dominic's a Swashbuckler and people like that can never be, like that." As for Poof well, she didn't know who he was and so she couldn't comment about him. "Are you and Blake together seriously? You're going to have children together?" It was an honest question because she said that they kissed and that one day they were going to make sprouts so, that had to mean that they were a couple. Right?

Epiphany asked that question as she neared the waters edge, as waves came in the water rolled just over her toes. Nice, refreshing, and washing away a bit of the sand and causing her to chuckle. "The water is great, and I agree about not letting your thoughts float away on the water. Unless they were thoughts you don't want to have." Spoken as she first knelt and then laid stomach down on the sand, bending her knees and kicking her feet back and forth in the air.

After she let her fingers splash around in the water a bit she started to comb the wet sand. "This might feel odd on your fingers at first if you've never done it, especially when the water comes in and washes over your fingers and pulls the sand underneath it back to the sea, but you get use to it." Hopefully. She looked back to see if she was actually going to come as Pris had sounded reluctant.

by Guest Fri Jul 10, 2009 10:46 pm

once she had looked at the waves long enough, pris turned back to her sculpture. there were a few more details she wanted the top of her sculpture to have before it was time to add the seaweed. her hands continued to brush flick and scratch at the packed sand quickly, the eccentric girl obviously very confident that her quickness wouldn't lead to a mistake. "sometimes," she said finally to the rapunzel epiphany, "but other times paintings have to be different shades of just one color. poof only had three of my colors when he did his painting of me. i don't know if i would've been more colorful if he had more. i didn't ask him." pris obviously didn't find it odd to be asked if it was colorful being in a painting.

she did find it odd to be asked if her and blake were 'together seriously'. when the rapunzel epiphany asked that, all the things epiphany had said just before about seaweed rope and adults flew right out of pris' thoughts. slowly pris turned her eyes away from her sculpture and her emerald green gaze locked on the epiphany. it wasn't quite a stare though - her eyes were making small little shifts. subtle movements, but it was enough to keep her from seeing things. and boy was pris looking at epiphany with an utterly baffled look. like the epiphany was the one who was crazy!

"seriously. seriously?" it was obvious pris didn't know what the epiphany meant by that. she echoed her exact inflection when she parroted the word back the first time. before speaking it again as a question. "seriously..," she muttered to herself a third time as she tried to decipher it. "sitting up straight in the good furniture in formal clothes making uncomfortable faces," she concluded finally. that's what being together seriously meant to pris. which is why she was shaking her head. "we have sleepovers with television and potatoes and dress up sometimes and he's good to crawl in next to when my dreams are mean." which was very different she felt than her definition of being together seriously.

now that the seriously issue was cleared up the odd girl could return to her art. reaching out and snatching a piece of driftwood that was laying on the beach, pris used it to cut into the sculpture. the clean level molding with sharp corners really made the head neck and shoulders look like they were a bust sitting on a pedestal. and they would be sitting on something, but what the lower half of the sculpture was going to be would be different than a traditional pedestal. but that step would be for later, after the seaweed.

which still had to be gathered. once she was satisfied with her work so far, pris got to her feet, clutching the piece of driftwood in her hand very tightly. she was going to use it as a security blanket for facing in the ocean. with the piece of driftwood in her hand, she could feel like she had a means of defending herself in case something happened. what kind of things could happen to her? pris had no idea, besides what the water had done to her father driving him to get twisted up into rope, rope and rope.

armed and sated, the sand-covered girl followed the rapunzel epiphany down to the water's edge. while epiphany got right down and personal with the water, pris stalled a few steps behind her. when a particularly strong wave rolled in that would surely reach pris' feet, the girl backed up to keep her toes safe from getting soaked in the salt water. she even pointed her stick at the wave and said to it with sixteen-year-old demanding, "stay."

from this safe spot, pris squinted up her eyes as she scrutinized how the epiphany interacted with the water. how she was kicking her feet back and forth is what really caught the strange artist's attention. "that," she said, pointing at the epiphany's legs, "why are you doing that? and it better not steal away my finger prints," she added indignantly as she pointed her driftwood accusingly at the waves. "i need all the grooves in my hands or else my art won't be right."

by Epiphany Mon Jul 13, 2009 11:33 pm

Epiphany was momentarily distracted from what Pris had said when that small wave brushed up on shore. As she was laying down on the sand that wave brushed up past her hands, burying them as the water moved to her elbows. It caused her to laugh at the touch and to shake her hands to get rid of the grit. It was after wards that she realized that she had been asked a question.

"Hmm?" Epiphany asked as she looked back to the other. "Oh, ah the kicking? No, it isn't for anything like that, it's just a relaxing thing I like to do. As for the prints...."

Hopefully Pris was not about to get an odd type of story that would scare her away from the sand and water. Epiphany propped her head up on her left hand and made a simple hand print in the wet sand left by that wave. "The water won't steal your prints even when you make your mark like this." Pointing to the hand print she made. "Not anymore anyway. Now it just takes impressions and those things that belong to the sea. Though sometimes Davey Jones gets greedy and causes the waves to roll up so he can steal people down to his watery depths and enslave them in his service for all time, but you have to be far into the open seas for that and we're here on the beach." Ending that with a large smile on her face. “No worries, okay?” Epiphany was a sailor and she knew many tales of the sea. Many crews that she has been a part of – especially the crew of her former Guardian – were big believers in Davey Jones, Sirens, Merfolk, and even King Triton. There fore she didn’t’ think much of it when prattling off tales of the sea, it was just conversation.

Another bit of water came and washed away some of the sand. “Not everyone’s able to be on water though, some of them get sea sick. Because of how the sea moves under them it tosses around their stomachs and throws them off balance and makes them ill.” A slight frown. She had never been sea sick, but she’s seen more than a few people toss up their stomachs. “You know, if you don’t want to get too near to the water, you can draw a path with your stick from here to back a few and the water will follow it. Maybe some seaweed will wash up in it too. Or I could just harvest it.” Unless Pris was going to go in the water she figured that she would stave off talking about jellies.

She was thinking about what Pris said about her and Blake and it sounded like they were serious to her, or at least getting that way. Maybe Pris only spoke about children because that was something she dreamed of happening and was telling Blake so he wouldn’t be surprised by it when it was more than just a dream.

Epiphany looked back at the water then and watched the light reflecting off the surface. “I think you’re colorful Pris. Sure, you said you gave Poof only three colors but, perhaps even if he had millions of colors he wouldn’t have enough. Some people can’t be captured in a picture.” She reached forward, stretching to dig her fingers into the water and sand and feel around for seaweed. Feeling some in her fingers she gave a tug and pulled out a three-leaf patch. Shaking off the water she placed it behind her.

“I’m sure Blake would agree with that.”

by Guest Sat Jul 18, 2009 12:56 pm

"like a pirate." pris murmured that to herself when epiphany told her the story about davey jones. "pirates like to kidnap girls like me and do terrible things to them and share them with the whole crew, that's what dommy said. davey jones probably needs so many people because he has to share with the other pirates. the water looks big it looks like a lot of pirates could fit down there." pris took a tiny step backward from the water as the next wave rolled in. she'd never realized that pirates lived underwater. did that mean poof wasn't a pirate after all?

"the water's not innocent." it was an emphatic statement of fact as pris shook the piece of driftwood at it in a scolding gesture. "it's stealing the impressions because impressions have fingerprints. fingers leave their prints everywhere so the water's stealing them for davey jones so he can lift the prints off of the impressions and put the prints into his database and see if the people who are near the water are ones he wants to steal and then with their prints he has a way to trace and find them he can trace them all the way to their shower i bet the water will tell him the way...." clearly pris had been watching too many shows about criminal detection, to make connections like that. but that was how her mind worked - making connections between things that no one else would think to connect.

then pris fell silent as she watched the water. a strong wave rolled in, high enough to reach pris' feet where she stood. but this time she stayed. because if davey jones was making the water steal fingerprints, she felt she was safe with her hands out of the water. still, as the very tip of the wave rolled over her toes and back she was watching it like a hawk because the odd girl had a nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right. "toe prints!" she blurted out suddenly with distress. "what if davey jones knows how to take toe prints? is that why you're kicking your feet? but he already has your fingerprints. can toes be read? do toes have prints?" all of that was said very fast as pris spoke each of her thought aloud as they occurred to her.

the sixteen-year-old made one of her high-pitched whining sounds as she hopped from one foot to the other out of the water's reach. the way she was moving an onlooker might think a crab pinched her toe, the sand was burning hot, or something like that. but no, pris was trying to shake the water off her feet before it stole her toeprints, just in case toes had those. it was obvious the girl had fixated on the story the epiphany told her, because she didn't say a word about anything else epiphany had said.

at this rate, it looked like the epiphany should get to harvesting.

by Epiphany Mon Jul 20, 2009 4:04 pm

Toes had prints. "Haven't you ever stepped in ink with your bare feet before stepping on a sheet?" Epiphany asked as she reached forward into the water to fish for more seaweed. "If it's not a big glob of stuff then you'll see the prints made out by your toes and feet. But you have to be barefoot." Pointly said with a nod and she pulled up another collection of seaweed to casr aside. Looking at Pris Epiphany nodded at her feet after the wave died down.

"You're not barefoot. Can't make toe prints if your toes are covered. Or fingerprints if they're covered," thought to add that in because it was true. "It'll only get the shape, like tracing it, but no prints. I'm not worried about mine. Spent too many years on the sea to wonder about things like that. If somethings gonna happen to me, well, I've been through worse. How much do you need?"

Whoever knew that Epiphany could be such a chatterbox? It wasn't often, just when she was able to talk about whatever was being talked about.

Epiphany jumped up from the ground, bits of sand flinging here and there in the process, and looked out to the water. "I agree with one of the things you said though Pris, the waters not innocent. It can cruel and heartless, but so too can a lot of people. And just like people it can be loving and caring. It just wants to be understood."

With that said she turned to look at Pris, a huge smile on her face and she pointed at the small collection of short seaweed. "So, that's all that I can get from this close in. If you want more and like longer strands for your chains then I'll have to go further in." Afterall the things Pris had been saying about stealing prints and pirates under the water Epiphany figured that getting her to go in would be a lost cause right now. There was always next time.

Besides, the waves would probably start rolling in and she didn't want them to wash away the sculpture before it was done.

by Guest Wed Jul 22, 2009 1:40 am

the high whining sound continued through much of epiphany's answer, as pris gave the ocean a surly look and continued to shift her weight back and forth at it in protest. trying to steal the prints on her toes like she wouldn't know better, how could it! the eccentric girl was so very lucky that she hadn't thought to take her shoes off when she was trudging through the sand and while making her sculpture, or else the ocean would be telling davey jones her toe secrets right this very moment.

"paints," pris replied as she traded her gaze between the ocean and epiphany. she hadn't ever put ink on her toes, but she had most certainly put paints on her feet many times before. including that one time here at the inn when she'd worn her bathing suit and spread very big paper out in the garden for her body parts to paint on. that was the day boom had apologized and given her a kiss. "toe paints, but the toes were never painting toes they were too busy painting other things." thus she'd never noticed that the toes had prints.

epiphany was right. there was no way pris was going to go into the water today, not when she had images of underwater pirates and CSI waves analyzing her toe prints to tattle on her. the closest she would get was creeping down to pick up the small pile of seaweed the epiphany had caught for her. "rope," she replied, with a very emphatic popping emphasis on the 'p' sound, "not chains. rope and rope and rope." it seemed that pris was going to make do with the seaweed that epiphany had collected, because she was already walking up the beach with the pile.

the eccentric girl had speed in her step as she returned to her sculpture - she was obviously thankful to put some more distance between her and the water. the sculpture didn't have any disasters or eroding while she was gone, and that pleased her. she wasted no time in carefully applying the bits of seaweed into different winding patterns that all started from one place - the part of the face that was clearly the mouth of this sculpture. the rope and rope and rope burst from there to cover over the bust, as if the subject's words were the thing binding them. it was what she saw in her mind. even though the person she was making the bust-portrait of wasn't there, it was what she saw of them in her thoughts. and although she could only do a certain level of detail with the sand sculpture, pris' incredible artistic hands managed to make it clear that the rope spewing and wrapping around the bust made the person who was the bust very uncomfortable, perhaps even in pain from how they were positioned and how the rope dug into their sand-flesh.

"just wants to be understood." she mumbled that to herself as she fixed her fixed intently on her work. "understood." a humph followed. "good luck water." pris obviously didn't have a lot of faith that things could be understood, most likely based on her collective personal experience. "rapunzel. are you understood?" it was a question posed with teenage demanding. to the epiphany, of course.

by Epiphany Fri Jul 24, 2009 2:30 am

She should have figured Pris to be a person who engaged in body art. Not the type where you painted on your body, but the type where you used parts of your body to paint - like she had said about her toes. "I could never paint like that," Epiphany said as she drew a line in the sand with her foot. Looks like she wasn't going into the water for those longer pieces of seaweed after all. Later. She could always go for a swim later. "I would forget that I was painting a picture and start playing with the paint. Maybe douse myself and jump on the canvas." Indeed.

Because she wasn't going to go in, and she was about to turn away from the water, she smiled at it weakly and lifted her hand to wiggle her fingers at it in a wave. She always said goodbye to the ocean because it always waved at her (bad pun) and it would be rude not to wave back. Besides, you always said goodbye to things you care about.

She was back over by Pris in time to hear the popping 'p' and that made her smile. "Rope." Turning her head to the side to get an alternate view of the sculpture and how Pris was making the ropes come out of the persons mouth.

"Your person here, are the words they are saying causing limits? Like restricting them?" As the reason why the person had the ropes. "Or maybe someone or something wants them dead because of the things they say?" All were interesting concepts to her and she could come up with a good story around that too.

While she looked at it she thought about the question Pris asked her, she didn't even mind being called Rapunzel. Why would she? Her reply came slow as it was thoughtful.

"As for being understood....well, there's at least one person who gets me." Who knew her the best out of everyone she knows and he hasn't gone running off into the night screaming yet. "I think that most people generally don't try to understand others. They understand of them what they want to understand."

A short laugh that was more of a cover up for a sigh than a laugh really. "It's okay though. If everyone understood everyone and everything then there would be nothing to wonder about."

by Guest Sun Jul 26, 2009 2:14 am

"that's why you're supposed to wear a bathing suit. because all your parts need to paint. fingers toes elbows knees nose they're all brushes of different sizes." most people who'd seen pris use her body to paint on her giant pieces of paper would be surprised to hear her say that. they assumed that she was so eccentric that painting like a 'normal person' wasn't good enough for her. "and they all make different strokes. fingers and toes like this - " pris stopped her work on her sculpture long enough to hold her sandy palm up in epiphany's direction with her fingers spread wide, "make a good fan brush." a single firm nod and her attention and hand went back to her art. making the last adjustments on the placement of the seaweed.

when the epiphany asked about the sculpture, pris' head snapped in her direction green eyes held their place on the face of the epiphany for nearly a minute - a very long time, for pris anyway. then she walked away from her work without answering the questions that were asked of her, heading a few feet down the beach to pick up a large shell that was shaped in a way that it made a good basin. fingers rubbing over it, exploring the texture and taking out her apprehension by using it to fidget, pris stared down the ocean and its incoming waves. she wondered if she should go and get her stick just in case, and glanced over her shoulder at where the driftwood lay in the sand next to her art.

pris decided to leave it there. and crept slowly, slowly towards the ocean. she remembered what the epiphany said about digging a canal to trap the water. so when a wave was on its way out, she hurriedly bent and used the shell to dig a nice big hole as fast as she could. as the next wave rolled in, pris scampered away just in time. she watched the wave roll in and roll back out, leaving a nice full puddle behind. she dipped her shell into it, and headed back up to her sculpture and the epiphany.

"it's my daddy." pris had thought a lot about how to answer the epiphany's questions while she was gathering the water, and that was the answer she chose. when she said it she wasn't looking at epiphany, she'd already returned to her art making. pris was using the water she collected to dribble down the 'bust' that was the lower half of the sculpture. it washed away streaks of stand, leaving globby channels and bumps behind. it didn't look like anything at first, but as pris continued to work on one concentrated area it would start to look like a lit candle - the bottom half of the pained roped figure was melting into shapelessness.

"i don't know how to understand people. only my eyes do. when they stare at someone long enough what's inside comes out. all their bogeymen come out of hiding and that's what i paint. people get upset at their portraits sometimes. like my doctor. he yelled." pris turned towards the epiphany, holding her now empty shell out to to her. only about a fifth of her total sculpture had been treated with her dripping method, she had a ways to go. "rapunzel. i need more water and davey jones already knows how to get to your shower."

by Epiphany Tue Jul 28, 2009 5:14 am

"I wouldn't yell if you painted my picture." Epiphany said as she reached out and took the shell from Pris. To her it sounded as though Pris was a type of Storyteller, only her stories were real. Then again, didn't all stories have some base in reality? She drew what her eyes understood, there was nothing wrong with that. No two people hear a story the same way or get the same thing out of it and Epiphany loved to hear the many interpretations of the same incident from various people.

Now that she had said what she had to Pris she felt a bit nervous and looked down at the sand sculpture, the melting man, that's what she would dub it. She thought about asking Pris what this picture meant about her father, as Epiphany never grew up knowing her father the whole family thing was an interest to her and she always wondered about the dynamics children had with their parents. The ropes had her thinking one thing but now.. now that the man was 'melting' to took on a different view that she took as meaning that the father was dead. But how did he die?

Melting. Melting. Ropes coming from his mouth. Is it possible that Pris came from a world or time where they burned people her being heretics against the religion of the land? Perhaps he had been convicted of such, the words he said were the ropes that bound and sealed his fate and then he was burned? It would make an interesting story, and then Pris could be a type of Joan of Arc.... And that thought pulled her out of her daydream and she remembered what she told Pris.

"I just never really had many chances to see myself through other people's eyes. I mean people tell you things, what they think about you," she was starting to get nervous and it showed with the stumbling over her words and the way she began to rotate the shell in her hands. "And how they feel. I just don't ask many what they see when they see because that answer is often a lie or they don't want to say so I just get..... water!" And she laughed. It was a nervous laugh and she tapped the shell in her hand and sucked her teeth and rocked back and forth on her heels.

"I'll just," lifting the shell and shaking it like a trophy. "Get some water." And stop talking, but she didn't add in that part, just went to the trench that Pris had made. It needed to be bigger, and the trail needed to feed directly into the water so the supply would be steady rather then touch and go whenever a wave came to reach it.

She bent down and stuck the sand with the shell, right into the existing trail. Then she pulled all the way down to the water, a small wave brushing up on the shore but it wasn't enough even though it sent water through the path and into the sand basin. Epiphany dug the line all the way in the sand until her feet were covered by 'standing' water. She smiled back at Pris and even gave her a wave - it was her way of assuring her that she was okay. While she was in the water she took the time to grab a handful of rocks and any seaweed she could get.

With it collected she went back, a wave following in her wake. The rocks and seaweed? She placed these in the basin. Carefully patting down the seaweed first to line the bottom and the the rocks to help clean the sand from the water. The shell she had placed down besides her and it had water. "Just in case you need more water." she explain to Pris what she was doing. "You see cause., if you just have the sand, then it will adsorb in the sand, but if you line the hold with something more solid then the water will stay longer. I forgot to mention that earlier. "

Fault on her part. She never thought of everything when she was giving instructions.

by Guest Tue Jul 28, 2009 11:02 pm

pris didn't offer any more information about the sculpture or her father, which was typical for the sixteen-year-old. just ask her doctor, who'd been banging his head on that closed door ever since her dad's passing. she also didn't talk about her art very much, at least not about its meaning. this was largely because pris just painted what she saw, and oftentimes what she saw was beyond her own understanding, or it was beyond what she was able to articulate with words. her artistry was a strange savant-quality gift which fizzled out completely whenever the eccentric teenager was medicated.

"their whispers don't lie. their whispers always tell the truth, the letters creeping on tiptoes..." from how she said that, it was clear that whispers were something pris had to deal with often. she was in high school and a misfit on top of it, how could she not have to face whispers everyday? she even had to endure them from the teachers. not to mention all the people in the mall, or on the street, or in restaurants... yes, people certainly liked to whisper about priscilla grace ganesvoort.

the odd girl didn't say anything to the epiphany about painting her portrait. instead she let the epiphany go and collect water, hands still continuing to flutter around her sculpture to adjust the small details as she waited for her shell to return all filled up. but pris' silence and her fixation on her artmaking didn't mean that she wasn't thinking about what epiphany said, no no no. it was very much the opposite. as she worked on the sand statue of her father, pris sucked on her lower lip and thought about what it might be like to make a portrait of the rapunzel epiphany. "but there's no very long hair..." murmured to herself, unconcerned about whether or not epiphany was back in earshot.

once the shell had returned, pris knelt down and picked it carefully up from the beach where it had been placed. "just in case, in case, in case...in case the whole wet wide ocean goes dry? serves them right those waves. fingerprint stealing has punishments." her comments were testament to how far inside her own thoughts she'd gone while the epiphany was digging the trail and the basin. when pris immersed herself in her own thoughts the odder her patterns of speech and her bits of behavior became.

now that she had a nice full shell pris went back to her dribbling. repeating the pattern she'd started on the bust of the statue, the more she worked the more it looked like a body slowly melting away. when the first waves touched this work of sand art the melting effect would look incredible, but it was unlikely pris would stick around long enough to see it. once she was done with a piece of artmaking, she usually didn't give it another though beyond hoarding it away. this one she couldn't horde, so...when all this was said and done the teenager would probably just walk away.

but that moment wasn't here yet. pris still had half the statue to do, and the issue of whether or not to do the epiphany's portrait someday to mull over. "hm," she hummed thoughtfully to herself as she bent to dip the now empty shell into the basin of contained water. "hm hm hm...would you talk to your portrait after it's done, would you let it talk to you?" considering pris' feelings about her own portrait, it could very well be a trick question. if it was there were not hints of that from the girl, who was busy melting bits of her statue away with water.

by Guest Tue Aug 04, 2009 5:44 pm

Despite herself Epiphany found herself laughing a bit about the possibility of the ocean going dry. Not because it couldn't happen, but because it could and the thought of people having lots and lots of small makeshift water patches all around struck her as funny. If enough patches were in the same location then they could potentially make a whole new ocean! Or not, but it was a thought. Because she needed something to do with her own hands while Pris was working on the sculpture, Epiphany was drawing a circle around the water basin. "There are some parts of the ocean and seas where the water isn't as deep as it was before and one of my old, ah. teachers told me that one day the world would either loose all its water or be consumed fully in it." to hear her speak she sounded fascinated by the possibility. Maybe because it made a good story. "But I would talk to my painting, sure. You never know what things it might know and since it's you, but in a different place, it could have solutions to your problems because it'll see them differently." Truthfully Epiphany had a habit of asking herself questions when she looked in the mirror or reflective surface. Some might call it talking to oneself, but it's helped.

"you're brave." it was said in a firm tone. pris had definitely made a decision with those two words about the epiphany, and that decision was it. standing straight she moved from the basin back to the statue with her filled shell, beginning the process over again on a yet-to-be-treated part of her statue. unlike many other artists, there was no standing back and looking at what she'd done so far. pris just moved forward, forward, forward, and often her eyes were fixed on one small piece of her artmaking and she ignored all the rest. how then her surreal, strange art all tied together was miraculous....and what made her a savant. "i can't talk to mine. but." a click of her tongue. "sometimes i don't believe it's me. i think maybe it's a painted someone dressed up in a pris costume. it's safest with duck. he knows how to take care of me. so he can take care of her. and i don't know if he can hear her whispering to him from under the sheet. so he doesn't lose sleep."

"It's not always easy to look at ourselves." was how she started. "You know, to really look at yourself and ask yourself all important questions because most of the time we don't want to know ourselves. It's safer and easier just not to look." She sat up and crossed her legs indian style, moving the sand with her but being careful not to let it disturb the water left in the basin. "So, I don't know about being brave. I didn't always do it. Well I did, but then I stopped, but I started doing it again because it's amazing what you can do when you don't have to look at yourself." ended it with a nod. Looking at herself was like having to face the things she does, and if she couldn't face herself then what she was doing was wrong. "Even someone dressed like you. It still represents you so it works on the same principle. Why can't you talk to yours?"

"i can't look at myself." fact, that's how pris stated it. matter-of-fact as she continued to dribble water and blobify the base of her sculpture. she'd need more water again soon. "it doesn't have to do with seeing me though. it see everything put me. the other things in the mirror that are trying to pull me in.. or anything like mirrors. sometimes windows or puddles they're little traps posing like they're innocent. glass doors, i have to look at the handle. to many things inside those mirrors to be safe. whenever i look in one i have to change. my clothes. my clips my bracelets my eye paints my everything. the more i change the more i have to do when i look into the mirror and my eyes watch my movements instead of everything else moving. my doctor taught me that. to keep me in my driver's seat. i keep a change of clothes in my bag at least one just in case." pris nudged her oversized shoulder bag sitting there in the sand with the toe of her shoe. "they make me carry medicine too. but i'd rather change my clothes." it was the most she'd talked about what reflective surfaces did to her eyes with anyone, besides maybe donnie. but then again no one else had ever asked. she didn't answer the question about why she didn't talk to her portrait. pris had a habit of not answering questions when she suspected they sounded too much like doctor questions. that was definitely the kind of question her doctor would have asked her.

After a moment Epiphany responded with "Yeah...." but it wasn't the type that said she didn't believe what was being said or that what was said was crazy. It was a contemplative and thoughtful type of 'yeah' The type people do when hearing something they'd rather not, or whatever said had caused them to go into one of those thoughtful moods that furrowed the brow and caused the lips to curl to a frown. That's what Epiphany was doing now. She had met people who had fixations before such as being captured by the glow of a TV, or having to do the same thing a few times before moving, or needing to wash their hands after touching anything. They were all parts of what made up a persons traits. "I'd change my clothes too. New identity. Make it harder to be found." That's how she interrupted what Pris had said. If she believed that looking in reflective surfaces allowed things to see her and come after her then changing clothes only made sense. "Have you thought about sunglasses? Dark ones? They have some where you can see out and the people on the outside can't see your eyes. like wearing a mirror on your eyes it reflects whatever's looking at you." the tide was not in, really, and the waves were not being friendly and helping out, so Epiphany rolled over on to her knees and crawled towards the water.

"i have lots of wigs," pris said in a pleased, agreeable tone. the epiphany seemed to understand what pris was talking about, and that made the eccentric girl happy. her shell was empty, but pris was taking a moment away from that. pressing her index finger into the sand and deepening some of the globby channels, connecting them, making a pattern out of what she'd worked on thus far that would somewhat echo the binding quality of the seaweed. bound and melting, that was the fate of this statue. not once did her eyes look away from her work to epiphany, even after the pleasant realization that the epiphany understood. that is, she didn't look away until...."are my eyes traps to?" pris gaze snapped over to where epiphany was near the water, and from the wideness of her eyes it seemed that notion disturbed pris. her finger that had been working with the sand stilled, and now it was pris turn to become thoughtful. she was a still thoughtful statue. "people do always look at me like they're lost...." she'd missed epiphany's meaning because pris was thinking about her eyes in a different way that epiphany was. which wasn't at all epiphany's fault, she didn't have the pieces of the puzzle to get what was up with pris and how she saw things and pris was probably the last person who was able to explain it 'normally'. though she did call her affliction by name, sometimes, which tended to help people.

Maybe there was another shell here that she could use. Sure, she could have asked Pris if she could use her shell, but she had been using it and there were plenty of shells or whatnot in the water. She could always cup her hands. But for now she was digging just in the water with her hands to try and find another shell. "You know, all the old tales about the eyes. Getting lost in a person's eyes, trapping their souls with the eyes, looking into a persons eyes and turning to stone, or turning someone into stone if you happen to be Medusa." Tales, lots of tales. "In the end of that story she was defeated because when she went to look at a persons eyes they tricked her and she ended up looking in a mirror and at her own eyes and turned herself into stone. So, if the things that are trying to get you look back at themselves, they can be defeated. Not all of them." digging deeper, she was almost to her shoulder in the water. Holding her head back of course. "Ha! Got one! Yeah um.." what was she saying? "Yes! Defeating a person by showing them the reality of themselves. "So reflective glasses. it will atleast cause a distraction for a getaway and if it catches the light it could even blind them for a bit." Epiphany had found another shell.. It was a clam shell, one half of it. And she scooped up water and carried it to the basin.

"oh." she said that so quietly it was probably barely heard over the waves. pris was still statue-still, eyes darting from here to there to there on the rapunzel epiphany though there was something slightly sluggish about her efforts to switch her gaze. once epiphany listed all those stories pris realized [or thought she realized] how the woman was thinking about it. she was thinking that pris' eyes behaved like eyes in books did, because rapunzel-epiphany was from a book. "it's not their eyes that are bad. it's mine. mine don't see right. i know what you look like." pris' eyes stilled. not on epiphany's face, but on her chest. looking where she imagined the heart to be. not for very long, not even a minute, but it was long enough. "but when i stare. bright light bursts from your chest like a CareBear. have you ever met a CareBear, rapunzel? when i look at doctor duck i can see boom shaking him from the inside...." added with her same simple quiet as she turned her attention back to her sculpture. picking up her shell and dipping it into what was left in the water-basin epiphany made.

Hey people looked at things differently and that was a-okay. "Pffft." Taking her shell and heading back to the water. "Your eyes see the way they are suppose to see. just like I see stories out of nearly everything." she didn't mean see as in 'see' but see as in 'can' or 'make'. That she could make a story out of nearly everything. Epiphany probably should clarify that but she was collecting more water. "I think how you see like that is pretty neat. Being to see things for what they are in rare, and it means that you can't easily be fooled and lied too." a good trait if you asked her. "I've never met a CareBear though it sounds interesting. As long as the shaking isn't harmful. " she scooped up some water and turned to look at her. "you know, some people have things inside of them that just have to get out."

"everyone does." pris agreed with a solemn nod. her eyes back on her sculpture now, which she felt was the 'safe' place for them to be. "their bogeymen. that's what i see when i look at them, what's trying to get out and it always does. our bogeymen always get us eventually. just like daddy's got him and grandma's got her even with all her walls made of pillows and the librarian, the birds that were living in her seeing sockets they flew out and attacked her and made her cry and scream and she yelled witch like it was my fault but i didn't do anything, i was just talking to a wolf in a book..." pris sighed as she began to dribble water down the final part of her sculpture that needed it. "if i can see the bogeymen it means i can't believe that poof is a swashbuckler like he says he can be because everytime i look at his teeth they tell me grandmother what big teeth you have..." pris paused. "looking at duck is okay. it's usually just boom. though sometimes duck is hollow inside him and the only thing in there is wind swooshing around and that makes me sad. he should keep other people in there." pris nodded to herself as the last of her artmaking was treated with the water. she dropped the shell beside her, and pressed her index finger into this new area to connect its globby tunnels to the one closest.

by Guest Tue Aug 04, 2009 5:46 pm

Epiphany took the shell of water and dumped it into the basin but held on to the shell. She frowned slightly as she listened to what Pris said because she thought that she might understand where Pris was coming from. Though she did not know who Poof was - if she did she may have had a few personal opinions on it, but what she was going to say would have still been the same. "I don't know Poof but...." drawing that out. She was looking at the sand sculpture and trying not to dig her toes into the sand. 'Some people say I'm crazy for this, but I believe there's good in everyone. At least a semblance of good and this Poof person he may be a bogeyman with big sharp teeth to everyone else, he may even be that monster when you look at him, because that's what he is and you can't change a persons nature. But..." Epiphany was thinking about someone else and how she thought about them. To her it was a semi parallel situation. "But just because they are that way to everyone else and that is what your eyes see when you see them, it doesn't mean that they can't be to you what they say they will be. It just takes an understanding that they won't be the typical type of person, or swashbuckler, that is normally in the pages of books or the ideal. Because you can't change their nature, they can only be what they are." She wasn't sure if she was clear. It was clear in her head, but she thought that the words came out all wrong.

"i don't want him to be the same. i like him because he's different. that's why it's fair that he's that way. because the same just isn't good." she murmured that to herself, twisted around scraps of the conversation she and poof had the day he gave her the painting. so she seemed to understand what epiphany was saying, or at least pris had found an interpretation of it that seemed to work for her. she withdrew her index finger, and as soon as she did her eyes left the sculpture so absolutely it was like pris had never been interested in the crafted mount of sand at all. the attention of her eyes traded between epiphany and the ocean, and she certainly didn't want to settle on one for more than a few moments. "i'm done." she announced. whether she was talking about the conversation or the sculpture or both was hard to tell.

"I like it." The art work that is, and she nodded and then tipped her head to the side. Epiphany started to rock back and forth on her heels but only made a couple passes before realizing what she was doing and stopped. That caused her to clear her throat and scratch the back of her neck. She was looking at it and setting it to memory as she thought that this scene would be a good one to paint. A picture of Pris making a sculpture of a condemned man. Condemnation. That's what she would call the picture and, like all the things she drew, they were suppose to represent the scene with the people being actors. "It's moving. Thanks... for letting me work with you."

when epiphany said it was moving pris' head snapped to look at the statue of her father. did she create a special statue, like the one in the graveyard that came to live to save her from fred and his sword and the jungle creature? but when pris looked the statue was still just as she'd made it. it didn't move at all. sometimes pris had a habit of taking words too literally. too literally or too fantastically, depending on the moment. and what pris wanted. what pris wanted more than anything in that moment of hope was for that statue to move. she missed her father. it was more than that. she needed him. "my daddy..." a melancholy mumble that ended in a pout of her lower lip, before pris jerked her head away. she held her chin up like sophisticated people did when they were talking to another sophisticated person and she said grandly, "may the next boy you kiss let you keep your hair rapunzel." that was about as close to a thank you or a goodbye epiphany was going to get from pris. the eccentric girl wasn't too good at simple pleasantries. after she spoke her wish, the teenager bent down to pick up her shoulder bag from the ground. she didn't bother to knock the sand off of it or the rest of her, she just slung it over her shoulder. "i will do your portrait on a day you're out of your book." decided just before pris started walking up the beach back to the road.

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