failure is not final

Blair Jha.

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day Two

[niamhwoolfe]

“You know considering this whole situation, I don’t know that anything you said would make me less suspicious Pita.” Niamh shrugged. “Tis the way the cookie has crumbled, as they say.”

“Well. It’s basically a no I’m not going to do it until I feel ready to take on the extra responsibility or until my older sister threatens my life for not doing it. We’ll see which one comes first.” If she had to bet, it would be on Fiona.

“Who’s Polly?” she asked. She ran over their conversation in her head, wondering if she’d missed the introduction of a Polly. “What stuff? Are you trying to monopolise the agriculture industry early?”

“Yes. It is. I don’t want anybody to steal my idea and therefore, my thunder. It’s my brain baby. I’ll just say, I’m not filming picked over stores for no reason.”

[blairjha]

She had him there, goofy nickname aside.

"Is it always like that with sisters?" Just when Blair felt like he was reaching the end of his bandwidth for social interactions, another question came into his brain. Maybe it was always just so for people with a lot of bandwidth—high speed versus dial-up. "I don't have any."

"Her family owns the Dairy. Nicest person in town." Sometimes, Polly was so nice that Blair found himself wondering what she saw in him.

He gave a shrug. Building a monopoly sounded like something to kick up to the J-suite to consider. Way above his pay grade. "Could be, but not exactly. Guess you'll just have to see it all when we get there."

"Does your brain baby have...competition? I can't think of anybody who gets up to whatever you're doing." Plenty of aggressive people around to watch, of course, but this aggressive journalism didn't ring a bell.

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day One

[helifusco]

Heli looked down at the bodice. It was strapless, which didn’t always work for her for, well, reasons, and she couldn’t get it closed by herself. Maybe she didn’t fit in it after all. It had only been a few weeks. She never thought about dieting, but god she hoped it was stress weight and not… Nope. Not thinking about that. Not considering the possibilities.

She looked back to Blair as he asked about the dress. “I want to keep it. It’s mine, actually. Or was supposed to be. But I’m not sure it fits.” She gave him a slightly sheepish look. “I don’t mean this as a come on unless you want it to be, but could you zip me up? I need to…” She finally let her eyes rove to the mirror. “To know what it’s supposed to look like.”

She felt tears welling up in her eyes as he admitted his situation. “I’m so sorry about your things. I’ve been stealing my dad’s clothes, but you should take them. He likes Carhartt and things like that. You’ll be comfortable.” She nodded to the sweatshirt discarded on the chair. “Not that the suit isn’t cute. It just seems a little in-hospital-able if you have to wear it all the time. To you, I mean.”

The question about the trees hung in the air between them. She realized, suddenly, that she’d been so busy wrapped up in her own pain that she hadn’t thought about what had really happened. The trouble was, she wasn’t sure she could think about what had really happened. Her voice got suddenly small. “I don’t know, Blair. The only reason I passed ecologonomics was because they wanted me to stop asking questions.”

[blairjha]

Whether she was manifesting it or the dress really belonged to her, Blair didn't know, but the word 'suited' floated back to mind and stayed there.

Blair too became sheepish as her words registered. "Okay," he told her, moving to help while his mind was still buffering around the words. It was only a second—a second running long—but something about Heli called Sasha back into his brain, the impression fleeting but distinct. He wondered why. Was it the fashion sense? The doe eyes? Troubled, Blair eased the zipper up her back as carefully as he could and stepped aside so she could see the effect in the mirror. "It looks nice," Blair ventured.

Understatement. She was beautiful.

Oh...

No!

He was not prepared for the tears. Or the generosity. Would it make her cry more if he refused? Blair went for it. Besides, one sweatshirt wouldn't upset the apple cart. "I like Carhartt. Thanks. Your dad has good taste."

"They aren't here," Blair reminded her, not unkindly. He did want to know what she thought. "You can say whatever you want now. Ask whatever you want." Do whatever you want, he realized belatedly. They all could.

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day Two

[niamhwoolfe]

Niamh snorted. “Yeah. Super cool.”

“The more you talk it up the less I believe you,” she said, but followed him anyway. She looped her still running camera around her neck, hanging upside down and swaying as she walked. But if he did kill her ass or do something fucked up… he’d probably just notice and delete the evidence. But maybe not. She was betting that she was the more intelligent one here.

“I’m supposed to be doing chores, but I’m still deciding if I’m actually going to do them. My baby sister moved out so it’s been more work for me and I don’t think that’s very fair.” Her side bangs got blown into her eyes the second they stepped outdoors. This was the problem!!! They always moved and did things she didn’t want them to do. She jerked her head to the side to get them back in place. “But more importantly I’m working on a project that I think will have huge payoff if I do it right.”

“What about you? Robbing Bottles Dairy next?”

[blairjha]

"If I didn't talk it up, you'd be more suspicious." And yet, she had a point.

In Blair's world, skipping chores was not an option. You reaped what you sowed, after all, and if you didn't do the sowing, you wouldn't do any reaping. "Fair is fair," he observed, trying to sound like he agreed with her. Somebody had to do them eventually. "How long until you decide?"

Lots of talking today. His social battery must be running on Eridium.

"Never. Polly's a friend." Blair could sooner see himself fending off thieves than robbing it. "There's some stuff I'm growing. I'll be working on them for a few hours. These supplies will help." Blair wanted to swing by the farmhouse too and see what was left behind in the light of day, but he didn't need Womp Womp's commentary on it. His loss was private.

"Project?" Blair prompted. Not too far away now. "Is it a secret?"

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day Two

[niamhwoolfe]

Niamh was quickly losing track of the point with this fucking tangent. She had caught him in a crime and now she was considering becoming someone’s random employee for a favour she didn’t even know if she wanted? Life worked in mysterious ways.

“Call me that and see what happens,” she said, giving him the most empty eyed smile she could muster. It freaked her sisters out when she did that, especially standing in their doorways at night. She’d earned a sneaker to the head for it more than once. “I’ll call you… PITA, it stands for pain in the ass.” She hoped he liked it.

“I’m not a fucking narc,” she protested (even though she had definitely been planning to give this video to community maintenance). Niamh was nothing if not curious, so she gestured for him to start walking. “This better be good Pita. I’m a busy girl with a long to-do.”

[blairjha]

Talking her out worked? He should remember that.

Well, Blair was skeeved out. Womp Womp's now dead eyes made her look like the hares that were constantly nibbling at the crops on the Mackenzie land. He would see them at night sometimes, the flashlight from his phone reflecting the glaze on their eyes in the dark. Like any good farmer, he didn't chase them when the moon was up. "Pita's...cool."

Blair nodded. He guessed he'd just have to trust her. Grabbing a few more products, Blair put his weight onto the carriage and pushed it out of the aisle. He had enough to work with. "It's good," he assured her, glad to employ the same spiel given to Jacks' clients. "This'll be worth it."

They stepped out into the sunshine, the wheels of the carriage grinding and squeaking on the pavement. "What else is on the to-do?" Blair asked, for lack of anything better to say. The two of them had some time to kill.

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Before

[rothmia]

“Oh,” Her eyebrows raised in delighted surprise, “That’s really cool. I’m all thumbs if it’s not art. I’ve killed so many beautiful flowers, but I was able to at least use the petals.” She’d pressed them between cloth and hit them with a hammer, transferring the color and shape onto fabric. There was always something enchanting about it.

She swirled her brush along the canvas, dragging the edge of it to put stray spots of paint towards the bottom. “When I said movements, I meant like art movements. Art is a lot about reacting to what’s going on around you and sometimes other art movements. Like the AIDS art movement of the 80s is a lot about making art more accessible to everyone and a heavy emphasis on emotional story.” She was still stunned at the breadth of the AIDS quilt, an endeavor that brought her to tears more often than not. The sheer power of art was unmatched to her.

“I know some of them, but there’s a lot that I don’t. Not to mention the changing understandings. Picasso was seen as a visionary for Cubism but it turns out he was using styles taken from Congolese art.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Art evolves with us.”

[blairjha]

"Still good of you," said Blair. Talking about art gave the day a dreamy quality, like they were sleepwalking. "They live on in a different way."

Feeling stupid, Blair was grateful to listen to something other than his usual fare. So much happened before and around him in this big world. He wanted to catch up. "Kinda like Steinbeck and Hemingway and Tolkein and the wars they were in," he mused, hoping he understood Mia's point this time. "Can art exist without a theme or influence?" Things were still dreamy, but Blair liked the hint of analysis here too.

Changing understandings felt like yet another historical specialty that passed him by, but it was never too late to learn. "Never knew that, I can tell you. I know I won't be looking at his work the same way again."

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day Two

[niamhwoolfe]

“I don’t know about all that. I’m usually the one being followed around. I think I would find it hard to become a sheep after being a leader for so long.” Still the idea of payment did intrigue her. Niamh had no money or anything considered valuable that wasn’t her tech. Sue her if she did show a little interest in that. “What would pay even look like here? Money doesn’t mean anything now.”

“Yeah, you won’t give me yours, Dev, so fair’s fucking fair.” This guy thought she was an idiot, clearly.

“You sound like Fiona,” she told him, but lowered her camera to her side. “Please don’t murder me. I’ve almost reached my next milestone on my YouTube channel and I really want to be here to see what disappearing does to my analytics.”

[blairjha]

Try as he might to ignore it, people like her fascinated Blair. There was a Mr. Collins-like obliviousness on display here. Maybe you really could live in your own little world. "A favor," he suggested. "She'd come through."

"At least give me a nickname. Or do you want to go by 'Womp Womp'?"

"Who?" Supposing she meant a friend, Blair moved on to a more important detail. "I swear I won't be doing that, but I will be pushing this cart out of here with all my stuff. We've got to walk a bit, but you can stay behind me if you want to." He eyed the camera again. All of his fun felt like it would end if that kept rolling. "Just don't film me with my back turned. Nobody likes a narc, and a narc would turn down my deal."

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day Two

[niamhwoolfe]

Niamh screwed her face up in distate. “Ew, settle down.”

“Oh.” Niamh snorted. “Okay, well the marketing needs some work then. This is very awkward.” Niamh wasn’t a fan of Tony at all but she’d heard all about his legendary parties. She had always wanted to be invited to one. She thought that maybe as her internet presence grew she’d finally get one, but no. Niamh had relied on lying and sneaking in one time but she got intimidated and left before anything cool happened.

“I would if I could,” she told him. “I’m sure you’re full of shit, but I can’t google that either. Womp womp.”

“What kind of deal?”

[blairjha]

"Okay," Blair said again. Definitely in the line.

"Maybe you could help. She'd pay you." He didn't like speaking for Jacks, least of all when she wasn't around to contradict him, but Blair was already skewing toward the vague side of things, when ideas were nascent and costs were low. Jacks could pay reporter girl back with a favor, he figured, or a VIP pass to her next party. "You could follow her around and learn something." That last bit was more than a little self serving, but Jacks could make anything interesting. Here, Blair was basically grocery shopping and getting harassed for it for no reason.

"You won't give me your name. Womp...whatever." What did that mean? Blair was lost, but they did agree on a third thing. No internet sucked.

"A deal that gets you away from me, but you'd be happy about it."

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day Two

[niamhwoolfe]

“I don’t like you,” she responded immediately, like they were in 3rd grade fighting over who could use the swing next.

“Where’d you hear that? When you were studying for your MBA?” Niamh scoffed. “Your examples are a grocery store and Tony? You got me, bullseye.”

Niamh narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m pretty sure that’s an actor.” Not 100% though, she didn’t have google so she could confirm it real quick. This no internet thing was actually painful. She didn’t answer his question. The idea that he didn’t know who she was, was offensive and she refused to acknowledge it.

“You’re creeping me out again,” she said. “Do you actually have something good to tell me or are you trying to trick me into not recording your next crime?”

[blairjha]

"Okay." She should take a number. At this point, Blair got the feeling the line was growing longer. "I don't mind you," he announced. "Much."

"Nobody's talking about Tony. I was talking about Jacks Atwood, the real Party King." Maybe he needed to start wearing a sandwich board with that very message around West Ham. Something just wasn't clicking.

"Pretty sure isn't one hundred percent sure." He lowered the glasses a little. He was keeping these, if only for the cool factor. "Kinda says more about you than it does about me. Don't you people love fact checking?"

"Trick?" Blair asked. "I was about to give you a deal. Strings attached."

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day Two

[niamhwoolfe]

“I guess you’re going to find out,” she said with a shrug. It was his funeral.

“You know small town fame doesn’t equal skill right?” Niamh was starting to wonder if this kid’s intelligence was a little below average. Maybe she was expecting too much of him. “Especially when it comes to activities of that variety. Anonymity actually helps.”

Niamh sniffed, feigning nonchalance. “Who are you anyway? I don’t recognise you.”

Niamh was still hung up on the fact that he thought she wouldn’t know that all happened. “Okay but I’m just saying if you’re going to act like you have a scoop-” she said, making air quotes with her fingers, “Then maybe tell me something that didn’t happen super publicly.”

“I think it’s very easy to say that when you’re not in the situation. Even if it’s just a maybe,” she told him. She could be scrappy when something called for it, but getting in between a boxer son of a mafia boss and his target was a whole different ball game. “We might know someday! Life is full of surprises.”

[blairjha]

"Looking forward to it." Maybe it was a crime that Blair was enjoying himself so much, but he didn't want to stop messing around anytime soon. Who knew being someone other than yourself was such a blast?

Blair shrugged. "If you say so. Brand recognition is where it's at, I've heard. Like when you hear 'Bottle's Dairy' or 'Party King' you know you're gonna get quality stuff or a killer time. Anonymity's just a shell game."

Maybe he should stop watching Leverage. Some things stuck with him.

"Dev Patel. Who are you?" Blair asked, peering over the glasses at her.

He nodded. At least on those things they could agree, and if they could agree on two things, Blair might be able to persuade her to see eye to eye on a third one. "Life could have a surprise for you, if you turn the camera off. Reporters have to keep their sources a secret, right?"

[jacksatwood]

“Oh fuck yeah.” Jacks said, nearly before Blair could finish his question. “Fuck self respect when I could fuck Lou instead.”

She paused, leveling Blair with a look. “Do as I say, not as I do. And none of yours are Lou. No offense.” She’d argue it if she needed to.

She shivered. “Of course nobody died. That would’ve been… stupid.” The safety elements of her events usually took care of themselves, but she had managed to keep abreast of various concert crushings and other… upsetting things adjacent to her interest. “Fuck. A lot of people are that stupid, aren’t they? But how do we suppress a blackout? Getting a fucking generator?”

“That’s my little honeypot.” She patted Blair’s cheek affectionately. “Don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable, of course, but I know you can hold your own.” There were many reasons she and Cricket weren’t compatible, boi-ness aside. Probably better to have a distraction for him that didn’t involve the smudged eyeliner brigade. “Maybe we should slow down. I don’t know. What else is there to do in this godforsaken place? Watch fungus grow?”

[blairjha]

"Either way, you've got mine."

"Respect," Blair added in clarification after another long pause of his. Jacks always knew what she wanted. It was worth noting. He just liked to twig at it every now and again. "None taken." More to the point, why would Lou look at him if Jacks was nearby? He was no fool. "You're a poet and you know it, but you might wanna stick with party planning."

"They are." Enough said. "We could."

Which meant Blair could get one in his lone wolf way, so long as that Niamh girl wasn't there. Then he'd find out what her threats were worth.

"It's only for your benefit," said Blair. "No selfish reasons at all."

He thought about it. What was out there that could get the blood pumping like a good Jacks party? "Bungee jumping off a church tower?"

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Before

[sashaparnok]

Sasha resisted the urge to laugh. Yes, all pianists know Clair de Lune. “It’s drilled into all of us at birth, unfortunately.” They realized that could mean a lot of things. AMAB people. Queer people. Soccer players. Wow. They had more in common with Blair than Sasha had realized. “Pianists, I mean. Can’t escape it. That and Moonlight Sonata. And Für Elise. And Bach’s Prelude in C. And The Entertainer. Actually, there are a lot of points of trauma, I guess.”

They still couldn’t believe it sometimes when Blair talked to them. He was just so pretty but in a torturously masculine way. And yet oddly, impossibly safe. Which is why they took a chance, even if they swerved it into a joke at the last minute. “You here for the room or for me?”

[blairjha]

"Huh. I don't remember that bit from Bio." Would've been cool if that was true. "You could say the same thing about farmers. Be on time, never waste a thing, and avoid Monsanto products like the plague." MK hardly ever missed a chance to drum his own lectures into Blair. He shuffled his feet a bit now, gathering courage. "Maybe you could play me one or two of those. If you want. Everyone loves Moonlight Sonata, I've heard."

You heard a lot when you never spoke. He preferred it that way.

"Both." Knocking his knee against Sasha's, Blair could regret acting corny later. He couldn't care less about the room, though. "Is that okay?"

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Before

[rothmia]

Mia tried for an encouraging smile, but she never knew if people felt encouraged by her. Her mother said she had a flair for melancholy and originally Mia thought she meant the 90s album, the one that used Méliès to dazzling effect in their music video, all whimsy and nostalgia and a talking moon that looked like the happiest place to be. What her mother had actually meant was that she was a bit sad, even when she was happy. Mia liked her own definition better.

She raised her eyebrow slightly in question. Thankfully, he clarified. “Free form. I’m not very good at rules and I like to leave room for experimentation. That’s part of art to me, not just setting down what you had in hour head but watching it bloom into something else.” She wasn’t sure if she made sense, but it was the best way for her to describe how she felt when she was using materials to transform something, whether it was a page, a canvas, or a wall.

“No wrong answers,” She echoed. Everyone was building their own masterpiece. It had taken her several years to understand that art practice of sitting with things you don’t like and examining them, trying hard to see the beauty even when it repulsed you. But it had made her art better, she was developing an eye as they said and that started by recognizing that all of art was perspective based not objective.

“I dunno,” she smudged some paint onto her canvas and let her arm wind its way across the canvas, “I never really memorized people. Movements, sometimes, but there’s just so many people and so many well known art pieces and it all gets mixed up in my brain. Sorry.”

[blairjha]

Free form sounded great. Sometimes, rules were only a suggestion.

"Making stuff bloom is my thing," he mused, playing with candor again, "so I'm sticking with your way." That also seemed like the right note to begin drawing her, so he did. Some part of Blair hoped that Mia would like to look at an abstract version of herself. Maybe she'd want to keep it.

"It's cool," said Blair, regretting his assumption. Identifying that in itself as a problem after everything with Sasha was a challenge, but actually solving the issue felt like a hurdle for another day. There was a proverb for that somewhere, though Blair was still working his way through Pride and Prejudice. The big message would reach him in the end. Maybe.

"Do you always remember...movements?" He asked, trying to incorporate that feeling onto the page. Abstract, movement, vivid color—it suited her. Or so it seemed. Every thought of Blair's today felt like a first draft. Unfinished, uninformed, each a blank canvas in need of detail.

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day One

[helifusco]

Trying on evening gowns was perfectly normal behavior. She’s seen Trip’s step mom do it several times, and she’d even made people come to the house. Heli wasn’t so demanding. She just kind of wanted to try on the big blue organza thing Trip had ordered for her in what was perhaps the most gentlemanly thing a rich boy could do for a girl he wasn’t sleeping with. She hadn’t had the nerve to go back and pick it up after the shop called. Something felt wrong about it, though until now she’d never been able to put her foot on why. But now that it was out in the open… kinda… she wanted to try.

So she tried to not look particularly embarrassed when Blair Jha caught her in the custom designed now-vintage Christian Siriano Taylor Swift Wonderstruck dress in ombre shades of baby blue to deep navy night sky, reaching around as best she could to get the bodice closed, fighting the tears that had threatened to overwhelm her last night. She swallowed, forcing herself to think happy thoughts. The tux would suit him, she supposed. “Blair? Hi!” His question threw her a little. “Um… sure. I mean… if you want it to. People might say you’re overdressed, but Mom always said those people lack imagination.”

[blairjha]

"Hi." Blair did the best he could to match her energy, although he knew he fell short about a thousand Kelvins (MK might've had a shot). Some people were just born to blaze bright. "You keeping the dress?"

"I don't know if I want it to," he admitted, smoothing down his lapel like they did in the movies. "I lost all my stuff yesterday. The trees," Blair clarified. What happened here was inexplicable, so he figured he should be as specific as possible. Besides, anything could be coming next. Maybe tomorrow everyone's houses would scuttle off too, powered by hundreds of Calcifers. "Thought I'd try something new."

He rocked back on his heels, testing out the shoes. Clunky. No.

"So what do you think of this..." Blair specified again. "Tree stuff."

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day Two

[niamhwoolfe]

“Or you’ll piss me off and you don’t want to know what that looks like!” That was true at least. She was her own person but she was a Woolfe at her core, and they all could bite. It was his outright disregard for her preference that made her mad. He could at least wait until she left to do all that.

Niamh scoffed. Cricket. No, she stayed away from him after he offered to do… things… with her and she just stared at him open mouthed before muttering some excuse and getting the fuck out of there. She knew that he knew that her self curated image was not as accurate as she made it seem. She didn’t want him letting anyone else know. “Dylan Quilter actually. He’s very talented. Flies under the radar a bit but he knows his shit.” That sounded pretty convincing.

“Wait. You’re talking about Tony decking Gabe in front of literally everyone?” Niamh rolled her eyes. “I was at the party. I know about that. Everyone knows about that. I thought you had something good. I’m disappointed. Nobody helped because it was Tony Alessi. You know, the mafia bro? Would you have jumped in the middle of that?”

[blairjha]

"What does it look like?" This was more fun than he was expecting.

"Who?" Blair asked. He opened a box and put on a pair of tinted lenses. These would look cool and protect his eyes from the interior lighting glare, but he didn't think it'd protect him from reporter girl's glare, which scorched. "Is he really so good if nobody knows who he is?"

Food for thought.

That was the end of his gossip supply. "If you say so. I just figured someone like you would hit record and start grilling people about what they thought. Literally hard hitting news...seems like a big deal."

He considered the question. "Depends. Maybe if I was defending a friend." They'd have to peel him away in taffy-like pieces if Polly or Jacks found themselves in a scrum. "Guess we'll never know." Blair wasn't going to risk another dressing down from Tali if he could help it.

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day Two

[niamhwoolfe]

Niamh’s jaw clenched and she shifted nervously, watching him continue to steal things. In front of her eyes. On camera. This dude was crazy. “You should probably stop doing that. It’s in your best interests.”

She scoffed at him, but she was getting a little worried now. “My data security is great, thank you. My friend helped me set it all up very well.” Except she didn’t actually have any security and now what if he actually did think her filming wasn’t an issue? What if he tried something worse than stealing extension cords?

Niamh’s face screwed up at his question. “What? Ew, no I’m not a fucking cop.” But… she thought about it for a moment. “But maybe you can. I like… don’t promise to do a fucking thing about it though. Okay? What did you see?”

[blairjha]

"Or what?" Blair kept going. He collected half of the boxes of LED lights and adjustable bases and dropped them into the cart. Timers and bulbs and lenses joined the pile as he moved down the aisle. He wasn't exactly sticking with Leave No Trace, but the greenhouse needed all the supplies it could get. He hoped Jacks would approve.

A project. That was what Blair needed.

"Your friend sounds a lot like my friend. That wouldn't be Cricket Marston, would it?" Somehow Blair kept his laughter inside. He was just guessing. There could be a dozen hackers in town, scamming people, but there was only one who stood out at West Ham High.

"It was pretty bad." Blair moved to examine the plant trellises and managed to squeeze two of them onto the cart's lower rack. He straightened up and eased the now heavier cart forward again. "A lot of bystanders were standing around and nobody jumped in to help." Not that Blair would know. He didn't even go to the party. "One guy wailed on another and everyone just let it happen. I hope you got it all on tape, because that shit was nuts. Day one and we're already attacking each other?" Blair shook his head. "Bad Moon Rising."

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Before

[rothmia]

Mia blinked rapidly. Right. She was supposed to be doing an assignment not staring at her canvas as her mind swirled with various colors and textures to add to the stretched cloth in front of her. This was supposed to require some cooperation from her… partner? …. teammate? … co-conspirator? She wasn’t sure what the right word was.

“Sorry. Um… I tend to be more free form if I’m not sitting down with a purpose. I grab whatever’s closest and make one abstract image and then pull something out of what I see. There’s a word for it, but I don’t remember it. Making things out of randomness. If that doesn’t work, you can always start with a line and then a bissecting one. In pencil.” She smiled, not wanting him to make too many mistakes he couldn’t undo. “That’s the basis of scale for anything else you want to come up with.”

She wasn’t sure if any of that was helpful advice, or if it even made sense. Her head was more than a little foggy. She really needed to stop coming to art class high, but it made the whole thing less stressful and she hated creating when she was stressed. “Basically, there’s no wrong answers. Just try something. Except maybe don’t mix too many colors together, it will look… gross.”

[blairjha]

He liked abstractness. Much of his work in a field felt imaginary. There were rules, sure, but every time he and MK crouched in the dirt when he was little, Blair could never believe the process would work. What would sprout, he wondered, a beanstalk tall enough to reach the sky? Kudzu? Lakshmi on a lotus flower? "Random it is," Blair decided, reaching for the yellow first. Yellow was a happy color, and he wanted to let its mood reflect back at him. "What do you like better?" He asked, curious. Blair hadn't given a lot of thought to artistic choices before, only appreciated the final products. "Free form or a prompt?"

"No wrong answers." Blair liked that too. He wished he could splash the words like paint over his own life instead of a canvas, and see how it'd look. "Who was that guy who mixed everything together? Picasso?"

Mia sounded like she knew all things art—who was better to ask?

[wewerechildrenwerenotnow]

Phase: Day Two

[niamhwoolfe]

Niamh wanted to stay as busy as possible. Maybe if she did that she wouldn’t be able to think about how Nuala left them and was only actually half her sister? Every time she tried to think about it she felt her chest tighten and her breathing quicken, and so she thought about something else.

Filming was the best way to quiet her mind. She tried to look for Dylan at first but he wasn’t home and he ignored the text she sent him. Okay it was only 5 minutes ago but it was still rude.

She’d already filmed the merry band of teenagers traipsing into the woods, recorded a couple of teary clips and short interviews of the most upset-looking people. It was pretty good, she was excited to edit it.

But now she found herself Welly’s. This place looked apocalyptic as fuck. So she was getting b-roll to go along with her bigger documentary. Niamh heard a voice though, so she quietly headed in that direction. There, that was him, the voice owner. She held her camera up, hoping she’d catch him in a crime. But he saw her which ruined the whole stealth of it all.

“So it doesn’t look like you’re attempting to steal merchandise and could also potentially be responsible for why the store looks like this?” she asked him, making sure her camera was still recording. “Don’t try anything. I’m recording you right now and you can only delete clips by entering my password, which I will not give you.” That was not true but she was a good liar.

[blairjha]

This was a lot to process. He looked down at the empty cart and then to the scary reporter girl, wishing he brought Luna along as backup.

Might as well go for it. Blair watched her watch him drop extension cords into the cart, mildly interested in what she would do to stop it.

"I could hack you and delete everything," Blair observed, trundling the cart forward a foot to check out grow lights of a higher quality. That sounded like a solve for Cricket, who might be lost in the woods right now. "You should change to a pin number if you wanna keep the footage safe. If you're gonna do this whole investigative reporter gig, you should really focus on data security." Maybe Blair could talk her into leaving. He didn't try that technique often, and it would be funny.

Blair rested his elbows on the cart handle, ignoring the camera. "Actually...can I report crimes to you? You'll never guess I saw earlier."