just a bit of yellow.
ravenbyul:
that familiar urgent footsteps that screams excitement gave it away. it definitely must be ria, and astrid wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing. her precious artwork, she feared that it would be ruined. she merely frowned at the realization, praying to all the gods there is that she was wrong with her assumptions, but then the voice speaking says otherwise. she let out a long, heavy sigh. she wouldn’t be mistaken now.
the first question left unanswered. she assumed that ria had already found the answer to the question almost immediately. it was pretty obvious anyway. “just painting.” she answered calmly, head tilting upwards to get a good glimpse at ria. “why are you even tiptoeing… why don’t you just sit beside me you’re giving yourself a hard time.” she moved a bit closer to her tools, making space on the other side of the bench for ria to sit on. honest to god, she suggested that just so she could avoid some future mishaps, knowing how clumsy ria is surely it’s highly likely to happen.
“it’s lunch time, what are you doing here shouldn’t you be helping yourself out at the great hall?” astrid asked as she turned her attention back to her masterpiece, and there she continued to apply a few more strokes on the blue sky she was painting.
fascinating how astrid’s wrist, or fingers, or whatever— hand?— could literally bring an image before your eyes onto a canvas. ria tried picturing it, tried to see how the colors would match, how the green grass wasn’t just green paint but rather a mix of black and brown, maybe a hint of white? either way, ria’s mouth turned to o, going silent for a second only to go on speaking again with no restraint.
“i’m offended. you think only the great hall appeals me? this is the quidditch grounds”
for a while, ria’s eyes snapped back from the canvas to the view, back to the canvas then again on the view. it was a duplicate, only the image on the canvas had a touch of... individuality. the image had a touch of...
astrid? yes. there is no other way to describe it.
the painting had a touch of astrid.
magic can do wonders. honestly, ria could charm it away, let the ink do its own magic yet as astrid stared on the distance, magic oozed out of her fingertips instead. and without the help of her wand.
fascinating. astrid is really something.
settled beside astrid, the painting tools on the other side, ria’s eyes wondered a bit over. “hey, i heard muggles gave all sorts of colors a different name. is it true? like is darker yellow called mustard?” whilst speaking about such irregularity for ria, she stretched her arm behind astrid. there was another brush there and not liking how she isn’t holding something, she gripped it with both hands, as if casting a charm on herself not to ruin anything.
what a shame to ruin such beauty.
“and is dark red blood? or maybe dark blue bruise? enlighten me, will ‘ya?”
