Third little lie ♰ You dream you've heard a lovely song; all night you're haunted by its theme

[beingdifferent]

[Open spam]

[Today, Esther is inside the art room. It’s quickly become her favorite area on board, a place where she really gets to create and experiment and play. Drawing and painting are small pleasures, and after experiencing a snippet of her earlier captivity she found herself almost grateful. Almost. Not grateful enough to forgive having to relive that time, but that realization is tucked away in her mind as soon as it’s made. There will be time for all that later; for now, she has artwork to make.

And she’s singing:
“When you wake up the notes are wrong,
The song has vanished with a dream.
Well that‘s the story of my life.”

Facing an easel Jesse helped set up, she dips her paintbrush into the light brown paint and adds it to the canvas with broad controlled strokes. A few more lines sung and a little dark brown paint later the color takes recognizable shape: it’s a bear, out of place in an urban environment with tiny simple people around him. As she adds a pair of large eyes to her picture, Esther narrows her own in concentration. The bear’s muzzle takes on a small frown.

All her pictures tell stories.]

Comments

[halftheman]

Most people don't.

[ A comment on life in general, really. But he steps back to let her work; there's a draft table that works well for his art -- from old pulp novels, memories. Stark black and white lines. ]

[beingdifferent]

You're right, I think.

[Once she's finished with the bars she washes the bristles again and adds a small person near the side of the cage, wearing blue and a matching hat.] What are you making?

[halftheman]

Just drawing. Don't-- really think to hard on it.

[ He doesn't look up; he can talk and work at the same time. ]

[beingdifferent]

Drawing what?

[She adds more detail to the blue-clad figure beside the cage, adding a ring of keys to its hand.]

[halftheman]

Landscape, mostly.

[ He's still working in pencils now, sketching. ]

[beingdifferent]

Is it where you're from?

[halftheman]

Oh no. I'm from the city. [ Gotham city was the only city worth calling home, even if it is a shithole ] Not anywhere I draw.

[beingdifferent]

Why don't you draw it?

[halftheman]

Because it's not what I draw. Or why I draw.

[beingdifferent]

You must not have liked it there.

[halftheman]

The city and I, we had-- a relationship. Often interrupted, but... [ He doesn't know how to put it in a way a child would understand. ] It's complicated.

[beingdifferent]

[Esther has turned to watch and listen, curious what this relationship is, and by the time he finishes she understands no more than when he began.]

So you did like it there?

[halftheman]

It was home.

It was also filthy, choked with crime, dangerous and in some places, ready to fall on your head.

But it was still home.

[beingdifferent]

[Esther nods, understanding this well. Still:] That doesn't sound like a very nice place to live.

[halftheman]

It's got it's strange allure.

[ Just like any city wracked with sin. ]

[beingdifferent]

Do you miss it?

[halftheman]

Don't know if that's the proper word for it.