MURAL MADNESS, MUTHAFREAKAHZ.

[lightningcute]

Who: Anyone who wants to get in on some hot n' steamy painting action.
What: Village-wide art therapy.
When: Forward-dated to 11/25, and runs until 11/27.
Where: Between the Welcome Center and Azzip.
Summary: Paint with all the colors of the wind! Or at least with whatever colors Pao-lin managed to procure.
Rating: M for MURAL

Comments

Any/every day?

[pugilistinpink]

As promised, this Bronxite has swung in to help with the mural-painting efforts... and while the sleeves of his pink hoodie are rolled back and he has armed himself with a brush, his time is largely spent watching others as not to mess up Pao-lin's design.

This art stuff is tough. This is why he boxes.

[pugilistinpink]

Huh. ...Why don'tchya make it like a big white or yellow ball with lil' lines comin' out of it? Y'know, like the sun?

[pugilistinpink]

Oh... [He had expected fairies to look like little sparkly girls with wands. ...Sounds like y'got it all figured out then. [A beat passes, and his smile fades a little.] You ain't gonna paint like that, right? [That clown outfit is really... something.]

[pugilistinpink]

But I thought y'wanted t'paint- - [He blinks, overwhelmed.] Man... I don' get it.

What's all this about? You... feelin' okay?

[pugilistinpink]

That's real weird, man. I think I'd remember puttin' make-up on m'face... Don' it come off with water or somethin'?

[pugilistinpink]

[He makes a face at the demonstration, which is some combination of pity, ruefulness, surprise, and perhaps even the slightest tinge of amusement.] Geez... that sucks. [Most eloquently put. This must be understatement of the century.]

[pugilistinpink]

Uh, sure.

[He'd take being in huge armour over looking like a clown, easily, but he has the sense not to say this aloud as to spare Link some further embarrassment.]

[pugilistinpink]

Me? F'now, I jus' wanna stick with what she - [Dammit, he still hasn't remembered Pao-lin's name, and he'd feel awful to ask her after ask this time... However, waiting wasn't exactly improving his situation.] - wants us t'paint. An' then I was thinkin' that maybe I'd make a couple boxin' gloves an' write somethin' Doc's always tellin' me on the wall.

[He was no artist, but how hard could painting gloves be? Just a couple of circles, and he'd be half way there.]