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 Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2010 1:21 pm
 Something that she liked to do was paint. It was not her most favorite thing to do, as that was story telling, but she really enjoyed painting as well. And that was exactly what she had decided to do today.
Webweave lived in a cave, well really it was just a series of rocks that formed a bunch of nooks and crannies, and one really big cavern. She spent time in each of these, and stored souvenirs in the ones she couldn't fit into. But the walls in the cavern were where all of her paintings resided. Well not all of them, sometimes she went out and drew on the rocks in her territory or even on the bark of trees on occasion, but most of them resided in the cavern.
Today she had found some irises, pulled them up from the earth and bit off the roots, leaving the flowers behind. She took these roots and threw them into her turtle shell, where she had already lain some oak galls. Her hooves mashed the two together until it became a paste, and thick black paste. Satisfied with the consistency, she picked up one of the many large feathers she had collected earlier that day and dipped it into the shell.
Bringing the feather's black edge to the wall, she drew a line and stopped there. Looking at it a moment, she added some dots here and there and then stopped once more, pondering what she was going to paint today.
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Posted: Fri Mar 05, 2010 12:24 pm
 Most Kimeti would have the sense not to go trodding blindly into someone else's domain, invading their home and prancing thoughtlessly into their work. Some, perhaps, would find their way there and decide they have the right to stomp wherever they liked, parading haughtily onto Webweave's ground. In Willow's case, it was simply a matter of being oblivious. Her own artwork, in recent days, had been primarily wrapped up in carving and marking trees some small rock and twig sculptures, odd spindly creations propped up on the edges of sight like weird, watching animals -- but she was certainly not averse to painting. Albeit, she rarely mashed paint, instead opting to use the mud that the swamp provided for her... She was wandering, that was all. Absent steps drawing her into the mouth of a cave to blink curiously inward. Perhaps she'd spotted a marked rock outside.
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Posted: Sun Mar 21, 2010 2:01 pm
Well this very painting was very obviously becoming a landscape. Rolling hills, plain of any trees or obstructions of that sort, and little circles dotting the sky, representing the lightning bugs that roamed the darkness up above during the night. One last touch to this scene was a broken globe. A crescent amid the dots that was the moon.
Webweave stepped back once to c**k her head to the side at the painting, and only then did she realize that she was hearing something. Her ears flicked back and she found herself listening to footfalls. She was not alone in her cavern! Her head turned calmly and her eyes squinted, trying to identify the newcomer.
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Posted: Wed Jul 14, 2010 7:00 am
Willow just settled and stared at the other doe for a long moment, unabashed, her eyes dreamy and distant. Something about her expression was not-quite-right; a leaning toward fantasy that made it difficult for her to settle in the here and now, instead imagining things that could have been or should have been, or perhaps once were. It made her ghostly, like perhaps she wasn't really there, like Webweave was imagining her.
Except she opened her mouth, and the effect was entirely ruined.
"It lacks..." Her voice startled her awake, surprised her enough that she almost jumped where she stood. The thought was lost, and she had to grasp after it. "It lacks...imagination."
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Posted: Fri Jul 16, 2010 8:42 pm
Webweave is in fact entranced by the newcomer, believing the ghostlihood, swallowing the not-quite-here expressions and demeanour. After all, she has fallen for simpler, for less believable even. And even when the other spoke, it did not break her imagery, nor her sense of reality.
When the doe speaks, Webweave merely looks back at her drawing, and then once more at the ghost that had so easily entered her abode. What else would be this comfortable in another's den?
Instead of wasting her breath, and she supposed the ghost's, she merely asked one simple question, "How?" And without waiting for an answer offers the feather to the other being.
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Posted: Thu Jul 22, 2010 12:51 pm
Speaking jarred Willow back into reality, turned her from hazy and beautiful creature to awkward and a little strange; from something to be admired to something that frequently got strange looks. She made a sound in reply, tipping her head and dancing sideways to look at the piece from another angle before she lifted her chin to point.
"I recognize it. You're recreating. Who cares about recreation?" It was carelessly dismissive, not meant to be insulting but intent wasn't what really mattered, was it? She shook her head, eyes sliding off of the work to Webweave, but only for one fleeting moment before they traveled on. "Mmm."
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Posted: Thu Jul 22, 2010 3:05 pm
All of a sudden, the ghost became material, normal, living. And even more startlingly than that, the doe did not take the offered feather, leaving Webweave standing there looking rather silly, head cocked to a side with the feather hanging limply from her grasp. It took her a few moments to react, and only then to straighten up and look over the other a little more thoroughly as she spoke.
But her question was rather valid... she was recreating, and her recreations would never do justice to their models. Her gaze shifted back to her drawing, and her mind drew a blank. She simply placed the feather upon the ground, next to the turtle shell filled with black paste, and then returned her gaze to the doe, curious to hear more of what she meant, but not sure of how to ask. Instead, she followed her gaze and squinted, trying to identify what she could possibly be looking at.
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Posted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 9:46 am
As Webweave turned her head, Willow eased into motion: a quiet and slow sort of motion, so that she wouldn't stir the ground or draw attention. It meant that the other doe would turn and find her strange companion already several feet away, tail swishing behind her, approaching the mouth of the cave with hooves soft against the rock and dirt beneath her.
The intent seemed to be to leave, without a word, but perhaps she'd just been distracted and was now wandering off without really thinking about it.
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Posted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 6:34 pm
Squinting didn't help, but by the time that she stopped, the other doe crossed her vision... and was walking out the door! Now normally this would have irked Webweave a little, but in this case there was much too much to think about!
She was only recreating things that already existed! No, no, no. This would not do, not at all. She began to bustle about her cave as if she were looking for something. She upturned this rock, shoved over that pile of feathers, nosed through another, but still she couldn't find it. It would take her a few hours to finally settle down and to relax under the stars and be able to think this over rationally, calmly. She would eventually figure something out, she hoped anyway. Something that would calm her mind and allow her to think out side of the lines and to become more creative in her paintings... all due to one simple opinion, one tiny critique.
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