What is True Art? (Miguel)

[Aftershock]

Samael stood in front of his easel before the Weyrbowl lake, a canvas of stretched wherryhide positioned before him and his palette positioned across his arm. Unlike a normal painter, however, he wasn't looking at his subject matter... being blind as he was, that would be impossible. Instead, a special perch built into the top of the easel supported Freyr, who looked over the Weyrbowl and sent an image to His, followed by using his tail to tap one of the small pieces of shell attached to Samael's palette with thin leather thongs next to each color to make a distinctive clicking noise, followed by tapping the canvas to indicate where he believed that color should go. Using his highly-tuned spacial memory, honed over his many years of blindness and having to deal with a world where he could not depend on sight, Samael would reference the image Freyr sent and use it to determine where to paint with the indicated color, creating a very unique art style.

The Weyrbowl was quiet at this time of day, considering most people had errands to run or dragon-related activities to practice, so the images Freyr sent were generally the same every time. Suddenly, however, there was a person passing through the center of the image when Freyr sent it, and Samael paused for a moment, then called out, "Excuse me, whoever you are... would you like to be in my painting? I would think it rude to add you to the picture without asking first."

[Requiem]

Technically he didn't have chores, because technically he wasn't a candidate, but he didn't like blood despite his desire to work in the infirmary (and after scaring his Dad's weyrmate by dissecting animals to get over the aversion with little success he'd given it up entirely) and if he stayed home he was bound to end up babysitting his cousin, so...Long story short, he just went ahead and did chores anyway.

That easily explained why Miguel was in the process of returning from the wilds outside with a sizeable basket full of berries and nuts that he'd let someone else sort. The boy was on his way to the kitchens and had hardly even noticed the artist set up there in favor of being rid of his burden when the voice interrupted him and he stopped. The young teen cocked his head slightly to one side as he tried to determine just what was so odd about...ah! Yes. This was that one blind guy he'd only seen on occasion from a distance. What was his name again? Miguel didn't think he'd ever been told it.

The pale boy with his near-black hair and crystal blue eyes considered for a moment. "If you really want to, I don't mind," he finally decided, his volume better suited for a conversation a few feet apart rather than spanning the distance currently between them. Miguel shifted the basket to one hip. "Umm...do you need me to stand here...or something?" The guy couldn't see, but the teen was too polite to ask the obvious: how was a blind man painting him or anything else?

[Aftershock]

Luckily for Samael, despite the boy's low volume he heard him just fine, thanks to his hearing being better than most people due to it improving from him focusing on it more due to his blindness. Turning his head to face the general direction of the boy's voice, he answered, "Thank you very much. You don't have to stay there, if you don't want, I have the image from Freyr here, so I don't need you to remain where you were. Luckily, I have a very good memory... necessary when you need to remember where something is, due to not being able to see it."

Another pair of taps from Freyr's tail, and the young man put the indicated color on his brush and began to paint in the indicated location, his clouded eyes moving about as he looked over the mental image in his mind. "You can approach closer, if you wish, Heimdall here won't hurt you, despite his size," Samael said, indicating the large canine curled up at his feet with a downward motion of the brush handle. Heimdall, for his part, flipped his tail out of the way of an errant paint drip due to the brush movement, a number of splatters on the ground around the mastiff's body showing it was not the first time he had been forced to move for that reason.

[Requiem]

Miguel was already walking for the kitchens with his basket when the invitation caused him to hesitate. He was a little curious as to how a blind man went about painting...but honestly he'd much rather be rid of the basket rather than continue to lug it around everywhere. "Uhh maybe in a minute." He shifted in place a little awkwardly before starting off across the weyrbowl again and quickly ducking inside.

It wasn't too very long after that when the teenager returned and approached the odd grouping. He didn't say anything when he first drew up several feet behind and to one side of the blind man. Miguel cocked his head first one way, then the other, then glanced at Samael and back at the painting again. The method and production should have intrigued him. It did, in fact, impress him a bit even if he'd never seen a painting like it; it seemed to be painted in blockish bits of color that suggested shapes rather than the portraits Miguel was used to.

No, what intrigued him most was the purpose behind it. "Uh...if you can't see it to enjoy it...why do you paint? Isn't it kind of like a deaf harper composing?" Miguel hadn't said it to be rude and hoped it wasn't taken that way; he simply was curious as to what benefit Samael got from painting.

[Aftershock]

Samael simply nodded, continuing to work on his painting as he heard the boy's footsteps retreat into the distance. Honestly, he didn't expect the boy to return... he was well used to people excusing themselves from his presence "for a moment", and then never return. Though he had been a member of the Weyr for nearly half his life, at this point, he was still (as far as he was aware) the only blind member, and many people had trouble knowing how to react to him... so, they avoided him, to prevent themselves from saying the wrong thing and causing drama.

So, he was slightly surprised when his sensitive hearing detected the approach of the boy's footsteps from behind him. He knew it was the boy, because he recognized his distinctive footsteps... to his ears, they were like faces to a sighted person. Sure, he'd only heard them once, and likely wouldn't be able to pick them out of a crowd of noise, but with the quiet of the area, it was quite simple to identify the footsteps as they slowed to a halt behind and slightly to the side of the young man.

Turning his head slightly so his voice would carry better behind him, Samael said, "Oh, you're back... I did not honestly expect you to return." Hearing another pair of taps from Freyr, he collected another color onto his brush and began to detail the boy's basic shape in the painting, referring to the mental still-image in his mind as he answered the inquiry with, "Well... I've been told I can't do many things in my life. A good friend of mine has always done her best to push me to test my limits, and that's why I started doing this. I actually sold a few of my paintings, and some of my sculpture as well, at the last Gather, so it seems some people appreciate it... and sometimes simply proving you can do something people believe is impossible for you is reward enough."

[Requiem]

The comment elicited no response from the boy. It shouldn't offend him, but it kind of did, not that anyone (least of all the blind man) would be able to tell by his expression or posture. Kind of mean to assume Miguel wouldn't do as he said. Especially since the kid was really just being nice. He was mildly curious about blind men paintings, yes, but it wasn't an overwhelming urge or anything. He'd come to see because he was invited.

He thought on the explanation for awhile, digesting it. The topic was a bit above his head even if he could follow the words just fine. "So you're doing it to be a rebel. Prove something," he summarized. No doubt this Samael would contradict that simplified version because it wasn't as pretty as the one he'd outlined before, but it really did sound like the same thing to Miguel. Not painting because he liked to or because he enjoyed looking at the finished product, but rather to prove people wrong. Eh. Okay?

"Did you make a lot of marks?" The teenager wasn't particularly interested in marks, but he knew that most adults were because they bought stuff. Daddy always had a lot of marks and more than enough stuff. Being Weyrleader came with its perks.

[Aftershock]

"You could say that," Samael replied. Not exactly what he meant, but from his voice, and what he saw of him in the image Freyr sent, the boy wasn't all that old, so he supposed it was as close as he would get to the boy understanding his point.

To the boy's next question, he responded, "Enough to buy Heimdall a new wherhide collar, and to buy this easel. Before, I had to find somewhere to prop up my canvas, and it was not nearly as easy. I also paid to have someone make this palette for me. It has made working the way I have to a lot easier, so I'm able to concentrate more on painting and less on the details of how." He didn't know how interested the boy would be in his work, but he never spoke to anyone all that often, outside of when he could catch Ruliana... which wasn't as often, since she was Joined to that brownrider Weyrlingmaster. So, he figured he would take advantage of the interaction as long as he could.