Facing the Wicked Witch

[losthunter]

After the rain let up, and Hunter was able to get home -- he spent the remainder of the evening reflecting on his current mood. He wasn't even able to finish any of the portraits that still needed some work, his mind clouded with thoughts at the Witch. And his father.

The thought of his father in the hospital was the one that bothered him the most. Especially since he had no information on how his father was faring -- thanks to the fact that he was denied access to the hospital room.

Come morning, his mind was made up. Hunter was going to talk to Kendra one last time and try to appeal to her somehow.

But he couldn't trust himself to meet her alone. And pulling out a phone number from the man he met last night -- Hunter picked up the phone. Then he called one William Kent.

Comments

[william_kent]

"Magic barriers? They're kind of like a magical security system."

[losthunter]

"Um... no. I don't have those."

"None of my magic-user friends have ever mentioned that I should have them."

[william_kent]

"Might be a good idea. It cuts down on, um, unwanted company."

[losthunter]

"How do I get them up?"

[william_kent]

Wil shrugs helplessly. "You've got to ask someone who can cast magic. It's not really one of my talents..."

[losthunter]

"Well, I can ask a few guys. But it won't be done tonight."

[william_kent]

"Doesn't have to be, so long as you know to look into it."

[losthunter]

"I do now." It bothers him slightly that no one else had mentioned the possibility to him. He goes to sit in the art studio. Giving a lot of space between him and Wil, if the other man is still in the living room.

"Would the smell of paint bother you?"

[william_kent]

"No, it's fine." Wil welcomes it, actually, following Hunter to the studio room. "My mom's an artist."

[losthunter]

"Really? What medium does she use?" Hunter pulls out a circular tray of small paint jars. Each one has different colors in them -- over a dozen different hues and shades. Also soaking in each jar is rose petals.

He then pulls out a blank canvas. The best way to soothe his emotional wounds is to paint. To get messy.

[william_kent]

"All sorts of stuff. She paints with a half-dozen kinds of paint, on different materials. She makes clothes too." Wil looks curiously at the rose petals, but doesn't ask.

[losthunter]

"I usually draw." Hunter gestures over to some of the inked portraits that are hanging in the studio. People doing everyday things.

He rids himself off his shirt, leaving the under T-shirt on. "But for this -- I use it to truly express raw emotions."

[william_kent]

Wil finds somewhere to sit, not too close to Hunter, but where he can see the canvas Hunter's going to work on. "A part of me has never really understood why someone would be willing to show their heart to countless strangers like that..."

[losthunter]

"It is not for everyone." Hunter knows there was a time he would have kept his art a secret from others. But after breaking free of one secret -- the others became easier.

He starts to use the rose petals, applying them to the canvas where they stick nicely because of being soaked in paint. He layers rose petal after rose petal, starting with dark blues and stormy grays to create an angry storm.

[william_kent]

Wil watches with interest. His mother's never really done this style of painting. "What happens to the petals once they get old? Do they wilt?"

[losthunter]

"They do. I have a source from a florist. She lets me buy flowers that they can no longer use at a reduced price."

"I dry them out, just enough for the petals to retain some of the moisture of the paint."

[william_kent]

"That makes sense."

[losthunter]

Hunter starts to use dark greens and muddy browns to create a cracked ground. In the middle of the canvas, he starts to use more vibrant greens as a base for a flower.

"So... is it your writing that you keep in your heart?"

[william_kent]

Wil nods, although Hunter isn't exactly looking at him. "I've showed a few pieces to my family, but I don't really want to publish. It's not good enough."

[losthunter]

"Did your family tell you that?" This comes from the fact that Hunter's dad... did tell him that his art was not an appropriate investment.

[william_kent]

"No. They actually tell me my work's really good." Wil just doesn't believe them, trusting his own biased judgment.

[losthunter]

Ah. Self-doubt. Hunter recognizes that symptom too.

"You could read me a piece." Hey, here he is demonstrating his art. Why not?

[william_kent]

"Oh, I..." Wil looks down at his hands. "I don't have any on me right now."

[losthunter]

Hunter could easily point out that art can be created on the spot. As he finishes places petals of a flower in the middle of his piece. But he doesn't.

"Another time then."

[william_kent]

"Another time," Wil agrees, sounding relieved. He's not going to weasel out of it, but he'll have time to prepare himself to allow another person to see his work.