There was paint everywhere.
There was always paint everywhere, back when Linh was a child- she remembers tracing the wet brush along the canvas, leaving an indistinct line of black, or red, or green, and flicking it over and over at the board, making little dots and splatters, and when she was done, the result was always the same- the canvas no longer showed a single white spot, covered completely in patterns and lines and splattered paint of every color of the rainbow.
Linh remembers showing them proudly to her mother, who would hang them up in the studio for all to see, but who would never give her daughter a single congratulatory remark other than “good job”.
And in some of these memories, she can almost make out the gentle melody of one of her parents’ songs floating in the air around her, serenading her, as if to congratulate her for what she had done- what she had created.
Tam was never very artistic- whenever their parents tried to shove a paintbrush into his hand, he’d either chew on it or stick it in his ear, no matter his age. But Linh- now there was potential.
Linh loved painting. She loved the feeling of being able to create- to get lost in her own little world for a time and then reemerge with something that could impact peoples’ feelings. But it was more than that- while Linh painted, she could forget, just a little, that she was Song.
When she painted, she wasn’t The Girl of Many Floods, or the weird identical twin- she wasn’t Linh Song, she was just Linh the painter, Linh the artist. And that was all she needed.
And for a long time, it worked- when her parents berated her, or when there was drama, she would shut herself into her room and rediscover what it meant to be free.
And then, one day, Linh’s parents announced to her that they were sending her to Exilium.
And at Exilium, the painting trick didn’t work.
For a start, she didn’t have anything to paint with at Exilium- just her finger and the sand. But more than that, there were the stares.
No one ever spoke to her, but she could see their pointed glances even under their heavy cloaks- the cloaks she was glad for, because then, no one could see her cry. Whenever she tried to doodle in the sand and escape off into the world in which she was no one but Linh, the glaring and whispering always kept her above water. Tam glared right back at them, but it was no use. The magic trick stopped working- the illusion had fallen, and Linh was forced to face the bleak reality of life.
She’d given up on that little world- and then, Sophie.
Ah, Sophie. The Moonlark. The brown-eyed, poly-abilitied enigma that stumbled into Linh’s life one fateful day and changed it forever.
When Linh first saw Sophie without her cloak, she looked like a work of art. The slightly frazzled golden hair that shone even in the night, the brown eyes that stood out like no other color, the curious, empathetic smile that made Linh’s heart flutter. And from then on, they were companions- they brought out the best in each other even when everything looked bad, they pined for each other from afar, and Sophie’s smile still looked like a carefully crafted painting.
Linh was seventeen the first time she kissed Sophie, but sixteen the first time she sketched her.
It was a sunny Thursday afternoon just like any other- class had just ended, and Sophie and Linh were sitting on a bench in the courtyard swapping astronomy notes. The stars weren’t out yet, but they’d have opportunities to stargaze together in the future- opportunities that they would no doubt take advantage of.
Sophie was looking dazzling as always, wearing a dark blue tunic and black leggings with a red cape that genuinely made her look like a human superhero. Linh had just finished braiding their hair into crown braids.
Linh was feeling particularly laid-back that afternoon, and while Sophie prattled on about her annoying new mentor, the hydrokinetic quietly began to trace her pencil along the pages of her notebook, stealing glances at Sophie all the while, and let it move in the shape of the moonlark’s head, then her torso, then the rest of her.
Before Linh knew it, she was back in that little world of hers- after so many years, it was wonderful to revisit it, and she stayed in it for the next five minutes, doodling and being Linh, before Sophie looked over and saw what she was drawing.
Coincidentally, that day was also the day the two started dating.
And when they kissed for the first time a year later, one hot June night under the stars, Sophie’s lips actually tasted like art- they tasted like creativity, and passion, and fierce emotion, and love.
Because truthfully, in Linh’s opinion, Sophie Foster always was a masterpiece- and Sophie thought the exact same of her Linh.
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