I don't know how I'll deal with this new…thing…this feeling. I try to put it down, on canvas, so I'll know what it is. What it looks like. Painting. It's my escape, my everything. When people see it they see me, they're looking into my soul. Maybe I don't want them to see me. It's my release, my salvation. It keeps me sane
She dips her brush into the plain black paint. It isn't onyx black or midnight black. It could be, but it isn't. it's just plain black. Touching brush to canvas she traces the concealing lines. She can feel the curves with her mind making the flat canvas curve too. She's in another world when she paints. One were everything is okay. Where she doesn't have to sort out these feelings but she does anyway. Let her splash them on the white. Let her see them. Let her see herself. Make her see herself. She reaches for another color when a bang comes from the door. Her world is shattered, the harsh light of reality burning her senses. She lifts herself up, turns her back on the painting opens the door. And there he is. She doesn't want to face him. You can't make her do anything she doesn't want to do. Unless you are him.
"Hey" he is just as unsure as she is
"Hi" she whispers back more formal. More impersonal.
"Star dragged everyone out. I made dinner. Hungry?" It's never 'Starfire' always 'Star' it's never 'Rae' always 'Raven' he's more comfortable with her. He can relax with her. He is content with her. But is he happy? Light is easier than Dark but is it more rich? Is it deeper?
"no" he frowns. She isn't hungry. She'll never talk to him. Never let him see her. Never let him get close enough to know her, understand her.
"will you come anyway? Please?"
"yes." His frown curves up in a smirk. YES is so unravenish.
Purple is the worst color. It isn't happy like pink, orange and yellow. It's not angry like red, not sad like blue. It isn't fresh like white or dark like black. Purple is the most complex color.
He pushes his pickle away, save the best for last. He takes a large chop of his homemade sub. She is intent on watching him for forever. She chews the ring of chocolate residue left over from her hot coco, biting at the inside of her mug,
Snow falls in wet clumps. Covering her world in white, like a canvas, a new beginning. She's staring at him. Memorizing the way his nose curves, where his lips soften. He looks up and she is watching the snow again. She doesn't like to talk, she doesn't like to stand out, she does need someone to understand, without her telling them. She pulls her knees to her chest and rests her head atop them. She sees his worry at her reclusive nature between his eyebrows. She watches his nervousness quiver on his lips. His determines in his chin. His stubbornness in the way his neck arches. She sees his fear in his mask. She didn't want to see his…l…o…v…e…in his protecting arms. She closed her eyes not wanting to see who the love was for.
She doesn't want him to see anything in her face so she wears her own mask. She cries behind her mask. Small oceans were formed thought her tears. But her eyes are closed her mask tied on. She has nothing to be afraid of, no one notices as much as she does.
"What do you do in your room all day?"
She shifts her position but her eyes never leave the tumbling snow. "Paint." She is so concentrated on memorizing the way the snow falls, she doesn't realize she just slipped.
"What do you paint?" surprise is evident in his voice. Her head snaps away from the window
"Who said I paint?" her voice is unsteady. He's watching her. He knows she hadn't meant to say that. It slides
"I said 'What do you do?'" she relaxes
"Nothing." He frowns at her untrusting nature. He will push it.
"Do you trust me Raven?" Her oddly colored orbs shift.
No. but she says, "Do you trust me?"
She looks lost. Pale fragile and he wonders why he never saw it before. Paint. What would she paint, how didn't he know? She's watching the snow again.
He places his plate in the sink slowly so it doesn't clatter. Walking over to her he smiles. Paint.
"Lets go outside."
She looks at him a moment. Then nods. He grabs her arm to pull her out the door and she is smiling behind her mask. His eagerness is contagious. He pulls her out the door grabbing a weirdly shaped bag with his other hand. It's purple.
He's dropped the bag and it sinks into the snow leaving a crude imprint of its presence. He brought her to the edge of the island. Were the water should be lapping at the shore. It's not. It's frozen. He sits down in the snow next to his purple bag pulling her with him. He picks the bag up and places it on his lap.
"Do you know how to skate?"
He knows so little about her. He wants to know. He tries to know. He hopes she knows that he wants too. She's looking at him now intently. She says she is brave and the others believe that she is. He knows better, she is very afraid of the world, even if she isn't aware that she is. He knows how she works which way she ticks. She'll sit silent and you will never notice her but she will notice you. She will be listening to your every word hanging watching them dangle and fall from your lips. She will know how you will react to everything and anything and she will be ready. Yet she doesn't risk putting herself out there. Even though she knows exactly how you will react she's not sure how she will react. So she simply doesn't, problem solved.
Ice. Its frigid glassy blueness is hard almost impenetrable. You think you can see beneath its translucent surface but find it only to be layers of hiding masks. Melted it is water and with out water you couldn't live. I couldn't live.
Robin slipped out onto the ice. He doesn't have a clue as how to ice skate. It was an impulse thing he had found the skates in the garage. Raven watched him as he stumbled and skidded until he was on hands and knees. Just smiling at her. Smiling. The cold air caught her warm breath as she gasped at smile. His smile for her. She lost timid who usually peeked out of her violet eyes when robin was around, bravery striding forward. Finishing the tie on her skate she glided towards her fallen hero. Whose eyes widened beneath his mask, she turned in his face grinding icy shavings with her skates and letting them spray in an arch hitting his warm flesh. He knew that was a challenge. And she knew a challenge was a sure way to get to Robin.