Pages from the 2nd Interval, 483 After Landing
Conversations/Scenes coming from Master Harper Zist, Ex-dragonrider Mikal and 3 year old mute, Pellar.
Mikal placed three pots of paint down in between himself and Pellar. He raised his still-upright finger somehwat higher, arched his eyebrow, and made his finger dive into one of the open pots as if it were the head and neck of a flying creature. Pellar smiled and his eyes danced at the ex-dragonrider's antics. Mikal's finger zoomed out of the pot with a small dab of yellow paint. Still holding his finger upright, Mikal nodded encouragingly to Pellar.
Pellar smiled and raised the same finger on his own hand. Mikal nodded again. Gleefully, Pellar thrust his finger into a different pot and zoomed it up again, his finger bright with thick red paint.
Silently, Mikal ran his finger over the ground, leaving a yellow snake on the white stone floor. With a grin, Mikal rubbed his red tipped finger over the part of the yellow snake, creating an orange blob. Pellar saw the color change and, with little encouragement from Mikal, picked up a trace of Mikal’s yellow and rubbed it on his red snake to create a duplicate orange spot.
“Can you draw me a picture of yourself?” Mikal asked. “Use any color.”
Inspired, Pellar produced a multicolored self-portrait in the way of all those who were only three years old back on the long-forgotten Earth would have done—complete with arms sticking out of heads. The mouth in the big round head was upturned and smiling.
“Great! Could you draw me, too?” Mikal asked.
Pellar happily complied.
“I see my mouth is pointing down,” Mikal remarked of the finished drawing. “Are you saying I’m sad?”
Pellar nodded.
“Why is that?” Mikal asked. In response, Pellar combined all three color onto one finger tip and drew a brown shape—a long sinewy line crossed by another gull-shaped line.
“Zist, get in here!” Mikal called. Harper Zist traced inside, looking back and forth from Pellar to Mikal. “Did you tell him I was a dragonrider?”
“It may have come out,” Zist Admitted.
“Did you tell him the color of my dragon?” Mikal pointed to one drawing.
“No. I don’t think so,” Zist said, examining the drawing himself. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever knew myself.”
“Mmm,” Mikal grunted. He looked at Pellar and pointed at the drawing. “Is that my dragon?”
Pellar nodded, eyes sad.
“How did you know what color to paint it?” Mikal asked.
Pellar raised a paint-covered finger and gently pointed at Mikal’s eyes.
Conversations/Scenes coming from Master Harper Zist, Ex-dragonrider Mikal and 3 year old mute, Pellar.
Mikal placed three pots of paint down in between himself and Pellar. He raised his still-upright finger somehwat higher, arched his eyebrow, and made his finger dive into one of the open pots as if it were the head and neck of a flying creature. Pellar smiled and his eyes danced at the ex-dragonrider's antics. Mikal's finger zoomed out of the pot with a small dab of yellow paint. Still holding his finger upright, Mikal nodded encouragingly to Pellar.
Pellar smiled and raised the same finger on his own hand. Mikal nodded again. Gleefully, Pellar thrust his finger into a different pot and zoomed it up again, his finger bright with thick red paint.
Silently, Mikal ran his finger over the ground, leaving a yellow snake on the white stone floor. With a grin, Mikal rubbed his red tipped finger over the part of the yellow snake, creating an orange blob. Pellar saw the color change and, with little encouragement from Mikal, picked up a trace of Mikal’s yellow and rubbed it on his red snake to create a duplicate orange spot.
“Can you draw me a picture of yourself?” Mikal asked. “Use any color.”
Inspired, Pellar produced a multicolored self-portrait in the way of all those who were only three years old back on the long-forgotten Earth would have done—complete with arms sticking out of heads. The mouth in the big round head was upturned and smiling.
“Great! Could you draw me, too?” Mikal asked.
Pellar happily complied.
“I see my mouth is pointing down,” Mikal remarked of the finished drawing. “Are you saying I’m sad?”
Pellar nodded.
“Why is that?” Mikal asked. In response, Pellar combined all three color onto one finger tip and drew a brown shape—a long sinewy line crossed by another gull-shaped line.
“Zist, get in here!” Mikal called. Harper Zist traced inside, looking back and forth from Pellar to Mikal. “Did you tell him I was a dragonrider?”
“It may have come out,” Zist Admitted.
“Did you tell him the color of my dragon?” Mikal pointed to one drawing.
“No. I don’t think so,” Zist said, examining the drawing himself. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever knew myself.”
“Mmm,” Mikal grunted. He looked at Pellar and pointed at the drawing. “Is that my dragon?”
Pellar nodded, eyes sad.
“How did you know what color to paint it?” Mikal asked.
Pellar raised a paint-covered finger and gently pointed at Mikal’s eyes.
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