“We’ve never done anything together that I’ve actually cared about.”
Bern stopped in her tracks. Looking over her shoulder at Ira. “Well… we haven’t, it’s true.” Ira mumbled under his breath. He shuffled backwards, towards the ladder of his tower. “We only ever go out and scavenge, we never do anything I want to do.” Ira looked sheepishly up at Bern.
Bern’s eyes softened as she looked down at him, he was only a kid trapped somewhere awful at such a young age. She wondered what could even bring such an innocent soul to the clearing. “I’m sorry Ira,” she mumbled, lowering herself down onto her knee, turning herself away from her crafts “what do you want to do today?” she smiled, putting her hand on his shoulder.
Ira’s eyes brightened as he looked up at her, clutching his poorly made teddy to his chest. “Can we… Can we paint?” He made his way towards the wooden chest in the corner and lifted it, struggling under the weight. Inside was stuffed with children’s drawings done in paints and ink (well their version of paints and ink, it was hard to come by actual art supplies.) He rummaged around until he pulled out a stack of unused yellowed paper and two inkwells, full of crushed berries.
Bern chuckled softly and nodded, helping lift the chest so Ira could grab more supplies. She watched as his little hands struggled to wrap around clumps of paper, clumsily flipping them over looking for new colors. Worry flashed through her mind as her thoughts wandered over the circumstances they were in.
Ira and Bern lived in a very solitary circumstance, while lonely and quiet it was dangerous. They lived in what Wren, an old friend of theirs, had called a clearing. It was closed off to the rest of the world, isolated and dry. There were openings in the walls that lead out into long winding corridors that twisted and tangled together in their unnatural ways. However it was dangerous to step foot outside of their clearing. There were traps full of hot bubbling magma, pits full of spikes that would impale you if you tripped, and rooms full of zombies who were ready to claw, rip, and tear at you until there was nothing left. Bern shuddered thinking about it, she didn’t want Ira to be exposed to those things, he was only a child.
As long as Ira sticks with me in this clearing everything will be fine, she reminded herself slowly. Bern took a few deep breaths before smiling back down at Ira as he sprawled across the floor, picking up his sticks of charcoal and offering one to her. Bern picked up the stick and turned it over in her hand, it was softer than she had expected and left residue where sweat stuck to her palm. She sat down and crossed her legs as Ira eagerly passed a blank sheet of paper to her, grinning ear to ear as she took it and set it on the ground next to her.
Bern stared at the blank piece of paper intently, furrowing her brow as she tried to think of what to sketch out. Ira was scribbling away, tracing lines across the paper and humming under his breath. Bern tried to clear her mind, to try and think of something cheerful to draw other than the clearing walls or one of the ponds. She searched the edges of her mind, clawing against the gates that locked her out of her memories. But she found nothing. Not a single thing stuck out to her to draw. She grunted out of frustration and set the charcoal back onto the ground, pressing her palm against her cheek.
Ira looked up at her, confusion growing upon his face. He scootched closer to Bern and stared down at her paper. “I’m.. conflicted.” Bern mumbled, moving hair out of her face, “as much as I want to be able to draw something I can’t seem to put my mind to it, I can’t seem to even think of something to scribble.”
“Ooh.. like, like art block?” Ira nodded, looking up at Bern with curious eyes.
“Whats that?”
“Uhm.. art block is like when uh…” Ira quickly rushed to his feet, almost toppling over the supplies below him, “Art block is like when you have the urge to do something.. Say uhh hunting!” his arms moved in wide exaggerated movements, “and and you can’t seem to catch anything because it’s just out of reach always, it’s like being shut off from it.” He grinned, satisfied. Bern’s face contorted in even more confusion, how could you get shut off from something you enjoy?
Ira frowned as he sat back down beside her, tapping his charcoal to his face rhythmically. Suddenly his face lit up and he snagged Bern’s piece of paper with only subtle protest from her. He drew a flower, simple and contrasting his previous sketches of wild animals and complicated anatomy.
“Art is like a flower,” Ira mumbled.
“Huh?”
“Art is like a flower! It starts from an idea, the seed. That idea is planted deep inside your mind like the seed is in the dirt. As that idea festers so does the flower, its roots slowly expand and its stalk breaks above the soil. That’s when the idea hits you!” Ira started sketching out the slow blossoming of a flower in contrast to the fully formed flower besides it. “But flowers are delicate and complicated. Sometimes that flower doesn’t quite make it to its blooming.” Ira frowned, motioning to a wilted flower, “sometimes it doesn’t get to grow, sometimes the weeds around it soak up all the sun and it doesn’t get any! That’s how your mind is right now, crowded and taken up by other things like taking care of me.” Ira nodded.
“Well thats, that’s beautiful Ira, but when does that flower get to blossom if there’s so many other things overtaking it?”
Ira smiled softly, “plants are resilient. They make so many seeds for a reason, one of those flowers, one of those ideas, is planted just out of reach of everything else. You just gotta find it and water it a little and it’ll rise much stronger than the rest.”
“And when that flower is gone?”
“You’ll have the seeds left behind from it to continue on.” Ira finished, setting the charcoal down and turning to face Bern.
Bern squeezed Ira’s hand, “y’know for a kid you’re quite brilliant.” She smiled. Ira giggled and waved his hand at her.
Bern’s smile dropped as she looked back down at the paper in front of her, she slowly gripped the charcoal and took a deep breath, she sketched out what looked to be a daisy flower, it wasn’t much and the line work was uneven, unskilled. But the flower was definably flower, it had petals, seeds, and a stalk.
“Now you’re just copying what I already drew but… that’s a start.” Ira giggled as he scooted away from her, picking up his paper that he had filled over with doodles and flipping it over. Bern swiveled her head to look at him, scowling. “Uhm… it’s a nice flower though?”