Summary: Raymun finds you working on a new canvas. When you often let him try, he doesn't realise how big a privilege it is.
Pairing: Raymun Fossoway X Female Reader
WordCount: 346
Content: Fluff,
A/N: Requests are open! You can find my request guidelines here!
Day 8, my 30-day blurb challenge! You can read the rest here! This one isn't my favourite, but I'm trying, and I guess that's what counts.
I know I'm a day behind, but I'm determined to see these through.
Also, if anyone would like to send me Raymun requests, please feel free. I've fallen inlove with him. Also if you want to see more of these two please let me know. I might have more ideas.
“Duncan left ya to defend for yourself?” Looking past your easel, pausing your stroke momentarily.
“He’s gone off in search of food. He’ll be back shortly.”
“Fancy some company? I’ve never seen someone paint before.” Patting the grass beside you, Raymun briskly climbed the remainder of the hill. Raymun paused, admiring the painting in front of him, before joining you.
“Who taught ya to paint like that?”
“My Father. He used to paint after council meetings, said it gave him clarity.” You glanced in the direction of your muse before gliding your paintbrush across the canvas.
“Sometimes, and sometimes it gives you a break from thinking at all.”
“Do you paint often when you’re on the road?”
“When I get the chance, but not often. Dunk and I are rarely in the same place for a few sunrises.” You paused to rinse your brush of a grass-green colour to prepare for the chestnut brown. “It’s not glamorous, but it's allowed great inspiration.”
“Bet you’re grateful to be stopping for some time.”
“I am, but it is not about rest. It’s Dunk’s chance to prove himself worthy. He’s the most honourable, kind-hearted and brave man I know.” Glancing towards the scenery again, you briefly took a glance at Raymun.
“Here, do you want to try?”
“I-I’ve never done anything like it.”
“Neither had I once. Everyone has to start somewhere.” Scooting over, you allowed Raymun to sit in front of the canvas. Shakily, Raymun lifted the paintbrush towards the canvas, turning to you, searching for encouragement. You nodded as paint made canvas. Raymun began to fill the section you’d drawn out with paint.
“Is he painting on your canvas?” Both of you jolted to the sound of Dunk’s voice. Egg came around and peered over your shoulder.
“Yeah, why?” Raymun responded as he glanced back at Dunk.
“You should be honoured, she never lets anyone touch her art. I’ve been trying for years.” Raymun’s head whipped back towards you, only to find you looking anywhere but him, a small smile trying to remain composed.