victormakesart | (no subject)

(no subject)

Victor led Rico over to the Muse's studio, bypassing the welcome mat and walking right in.

The Muse didn't take his eyes off of the painting that he was currently working on, containers full of paint scattered all around him. It looked like he was painting a person walking out of the water, but it was too early to be sure. His third arm painted wildly while his other two remained still at his sides. It was rather unnerving, even to Victor, who had watched him paint quite often.

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"I'd figure so, yah. That's...neato, darlin'. Ne-e-e-eato like crazy." He heard thunder in the distance and he blinked in suprise.

Rico looks smug. "What'd I tell you? I can feel that stuff coming a mile away." He gathers up his trash and dumps it in one of the wastebins.

"You win, then." He grinned and trashed his drink, looping the bag over his hand. "Shall we?"

"Verily." Rico grins and holds the door open for the Muse again. "After all, we're off to see the wizard."

"Thank you muchly." He looked over at him curiously. "Which one?"

"I don't know. Is there more than one?"

crack-BOOSH. And lightning splits overhead.

"Cool!" Rico's eyes are alight as he stops, rooted to the spot, and watches the storm.

"I figured, yeah."

He looked up, wide-eyed and slack jawed. He loved storms. It was motion-art. Beautiful.

It starts to drizzle a bit, but Rico doesn't care. His eyes are rooted to the lightning, watching it play across the sky. He probably won't get out of the way even if a truck's heading towards him.

...which was unfortunate because the Muse tended to lose his focus around pretty things.

Very softly, Rico says, "Can you feel it?"

"At the back of my neck?" he asked, equally quiet.

"Yeah. And in your stomach, and in your head..." He falls silent, because there's no way on earth he can do it justice.

"How it's almost dizzying?" He blinked up at the sky in awe.

Wry grin time. "'Almost'?" he repeats. "Makes you feel small. But that doesn't matter, because it's so big."

"Don't got a people-brain, I'll see it odd-strange," he murmured with a wink. "I've been up there. T' talk to my Creators."

Rico looks over briefly. "What'd they say?"

"We usedta have great convos. Then they started tellin' me to screw off. Then they only let their Receptionists talk t' me."

"God has a secretary. I'm so cynical, that doesn't even surprise me."

"They're right bastards, too." He blew a kiss to one of the clouds.

Rico grins at this. "Think they heard you?"

"'Course they did." He smirked.

Rico looks back up the sky and frowns. "Do you think my Creator's up there, too?"

"I'm sure. Miss Victor's Creator is up there. She's Catholic. And her Creator ain't my Creator."

"I'm Catholic too," he says absently. "Or was. I don't know anymore."

He bows his head for a moment. Without another word, he starts walking back to the Y.

"Hmmm. Just takes thought."

He followed him, thinking about pretty people, lightning and gods at tea.