[Geo backs up, sets her hands on her hips to observe the art the way she thinks the fancy people would've done in museums. She even dramatically twirls an invisible mustache.
But where is the space person going? Are they holding onto something, flying away with it, or are they leashed to something, forever bound to it?
Lips purse to stifle her smile, stifle the amusing thought crossing her head. It's silly, probably not at all what he's going for, but still.
She picks up the pencil and his sketch pad... and is promptly distracted by it. The intention had been to write an encouraging note. Instead, pages upon pages of art swirl her vision. She hadn't seen art like this in a long time. Sure, they'd made hideouts and bases of museums, but the paintings had been moved to the vaults, even the replicas. The ones that could afford to be burned for warmth or for cooking purposes had been destroyed carefully, thoughtfully, to ensure it would last them enough time.
This was real art, the kind people used to do in their spare time. She remembered those people from her childhood. Not so many existed now.
And then she stops.
She knew those buildings. It's almost too much.
Geo holds up the sketchpad to point at the Space Needle, with a clean finger, of course. Her eyes and brows are alight with puzzlement, surprise, and incredulity.]
no subject
But where is the space person going? Are they holding onto something, flying away with it, or are they leashed to something, forever bound to it?
Lips purse to stifle her smile, stifle the amusing thought crossing her head. It's silly, probably not at all what he's going for, but still.
She picks up the pencil and his sketch pad... and is promptly distracted by it. The intention had been to write an encouraging note. Instead, pages upon pages of art swirl her vision. She hadn't seen art like this in a long time. Sure, they'd made hideouts and bases of museums, but the paintings had been moved to the vaults, even the replicas. The ones that could afford to be burned for warmth or for cooking purposes had been destroyed carefully, thoughtfully, to ensure it would last them enough time.
This was real art, the kind people used to do in their spare time. She remembered those people from her childhood. Not so many existed now.
And then she stops.
She knew those buildings. It's almost too much.
Geo holds up the sketchpad to point at the Space Needle, with a clean finger, of course. Her eyes and brows are alight with puzzlement, surprise, and incredulity.]