ezhilbharath

[ezhilbharath]

Ez grinned. “Yes exactly what I said,” he offered his little sister, patting her on the shoulder as he enjoyed that he never needed to actually tell her. She’d read the intention in his eyes. “Hmmm, depends: what do you want? Or how picky you are,” he said, with a grin. “I remember when you were little and you didn’t want to try any local Tamil food until we forced you to go to a fancy restaurant serving the same food.” In Chellam’s defence, she had been six, but Ez still remembered it like it was yesterday. Having the British family over, realising that the UK didn’t have many places that served good Southern Indian food. “Though I wouldn’t mind eating your portion.” 

"So you want me to take care of your stand?" Chellam asked, adjusting her stance opposite him, block kitten heels not adding any sort of substantial height to her short frame. Of course her oldest sibling wanted her to take care of their belongings so they could go grab a snack. She'd enjoy everything later.

"Well, at the very least, can you grab me something to eat as well for watching over it?" she asked him, moving around the stall to take his place, ready to hand out his flyers.

[ezhilbharath]

Ezhil managed to move his foot just in time, thanks to his keen Werewolf senses, but he made a yelping sound all the same, followed by a chuckle. His eyes shining in amusement. "Just me? I thought by now you'd have realised we both tick that box," he jested. Though narcissist seemed a bit too much to determine. He didn't think he was truly that, he was more of a ego-maniac. He chuckled. The banter with Zyne was fulfilling, though he'd never admit that, he did not care for people who tried to spare his feelings. "I'd rather put it in my ears so I don't have to listen to you anymore," he bantered back, grinning.

❛not this pbs ass explanation.❜ zyne comments in turn; whiskey colored orbs rolling in the back of his skull while ezhil prattles on about the cultural significance of his attire. the apothecary unable to stop himself from swatting his rival slash friend on the foot with his wooden cane. slightly annoyed yet entirely amused. emotions he's sure most people feel when talking to ezhil. ❛whatever you say, desi cinderella. though, we both know you're far too narcissistic for the leading role.❜ zyne then adds with a playful chuckle when making the comparison, refusing to admit how admirable he finds the other's dedication. heritage and pride are two very important aspects to him as well. ❛putting your money where your mouth is. hopefully, it'll be enough to shut you up.❜

[ezhilbharath]

OPEN STARTER @fenrirswoodstarters location ; the duck fair

Ezhilarasan had his own little stand, perfectly placed near the entrance of Sans Park, well in the view of anyone at the fair and anyone not daring to go completely into the crowds. He wasn't selling art but instead offering art lessons and promoting the gallery's latest exhibition. While also trying to gather donations for art programs both in Fork's Road and at local schools.

He set the flyers down and leaned against the stand. "Do you think I can leave the stand for five minutes to grab a bite to eat, the wind is blowing all the delicious smells right this way and I don't think I can hold out much longer."

[ezhilbharath]

Ezhil scoffed. “Of course, don’t you know that in ancient Bharath all royalty wore slippers? Shoes are an invention for those in colder climates,” he said with a shrug and a grin. He lifted one foot for Zyne to see. “This is not a regular slipper either,” he added, as he moved his foot for the other to take a good look at the design. “Especially made, I have a friend who sends me all the newest Tamil fashion.” Despite how some in South Asia were obsessed with all the western brands, he’d always attempted to break the norm. “And of course,” he said, as he put his foot back down. “Naturally we’re here for the good cause.”

social gatherings such as these were apart of his life back home in new orleans; so to attend one now was no big deal for the cobriana heir. who was searching for a few pieces to decorate his cream covered walls. for zyne could never tire of adding pops of color into his life; since eccentricity was the flavor of his. much to the chargin of those in it.

his gucci loafers made the pivot in order to face the other fashionable male. zyne accompanying the expensive leather with a pair of pink valentino wide leg pants; holstered by a chanel belt ( gold, of course ) and an ivory laced ann demeulemeester top that flaunted his flawless complexion and physique. his loose curls were left alone, flourishing in their shea butter excellence as usual. zyne the very definition of GQ. ❛now we both know I'm the star here.❜ grinned zyne while holding his alexander wang cane, pointing the accessory at ezhilarasan's slipper covered feet.

[ezhilbharath]

CLOSED STARTER for @voodoopcwer location ; SOME CHARITY PARTY

For Ezhilarasan to show up anywhere where there was money to throw around wasn't new, though he rarely did it because he knew he could leave a few cents - hard earned ones, by his father most often - nor because it helped with his image. He was always trying to acquire new interesting people to buy art from him, after all, as an artist, he had to make himself as interesting as possible.

Which was why he was currently in a light blue kurta with stark white pants, and silver and blue embroidered slippers. Too cold for this weather, but he'd gotten used to it. His hair looked as vibrant as ever, and so far he'd gotten at least the right attention from potential buyers.

He smiled when he spotted another who made it their sole purpose to dress well, grinning before moving through the crowd to appear at Zyne's side. "I think I've out-dressed you this evening," he decided in jest.

[ezhilbharath]

"Never too early," Ezhil said with a confident smile. Though he did enjoy Haylee's attitude, as she didn't seem to shy away from the offer, didn't necessarily run off because it was too big an offer. After all, he was standing at the very busy beach front telling someone to take a leap of faith and paint something.

His smile was giving away that he was impressed. "Alright, that's a deal." He touched his chin. "Let me see, my favourite thing in the whole world... that's hard. I'd say at this very moment: crowds." It was vague, but he figured someone was creative as Haylee could do something with it. He got his thermos out and held it out to the young future-artist. "Before you start, any interest in some coffee?"

As usual, Haylee was running on two hours of sleep, and a very large amount of coffee. Her smile still big and warm on her face, as she approached the other — eyes taking in the canvases around her. "Isn't it a bit early?" a genuine question followed by a soft chuckle.

The sun was warm on her bare sholders, the ends of her floral dress dancing along the wind. "I, uh — " she didn't truly know if there was any creativity left within her very tired concious, "I'm not sure I have any ideas, but maybe you can tell me something — " a beat, "like your most favourite thing in the whole world, and I'll paint that."

The smile on her lips only widened, "It'd be a present. For you."

[ezhilbharath]

Ezhil shrugged but still smiled. "Of course, think about it!" He said. He knew forcing someone to do something against their will wasn't going to fly, but he did see potential, now it was just up to Roxanne to see the same, he figured she'd come around. He already had an idea about which room they could use, some of the marketing, and of course a future brainstorm session on how to best display her work and her personality.

The Artist chuckled. "Yeah, sculptures aren't my thing either," he admitted. "A lot of work, a lot of patience, a lot of begging the universe to please let it survive," he agreed. "And a lot of fear that anyone might walk into it during an exhibition. Also storage, can't ignore the storage part, works like these are much harder to stow away." He smirked. "And you're amazing at it," he complimented her. Which was genuine, he loved seeing other artist at work, or their work in general, he loved seeing their technique, dedication, passion.

"So next room I have a piece that I really love," he said, as he guided Roxanne further. "It's a painting by a former student about their time near the Great Barrier Reef, they really wanted to show the destruction that is going on there while also portraying how beautiful it can be."

Roxy thought about it. Sure, it would be cool to display her art in an exhibit such as this – but was she really prepared for something like that? Had she thought about it? Absolutely. But all her little daydreams had been interrupted by her reality – her canvas was actual humans, that were walking around. “Hm. We’ll see. I don’t know if it’s even something people would want to see, you know?” She said and shrugged her shoulders as she thought about it. She didn’t think getting permission from her clients would be too hard – obviously depending on where the tattoo was placed, and if they wanted to be anonymous or not.

She paused to admire the bronze and granite sculpture, appreciating the craftsmanship and the sculpture itself. “It’s really good. Sculptures are something I wish I had the patience to work on. I used to mess around with clay for a bit, but I always ended up having mental breakdowns over pieces that didn’t survive the kiln.” She said with a small laugh. “I’m better with a needle and some ink.”

[ezhilbharath]

Ezhil scoffed, placing a hand on his heart to feign hurt. Leave it up to his younger siblings to tell him he was old. It wasn't wrong: they were fourteen years apart, fourteen years and a whole lot of siblings. Three moms... one dad. Of course there was some sibling rivalry: but Ezhil figured all his younger siblings knew that he was the best, even if he wasn't the one to inherit his father's business. He was the oldest, the one they all listened to, the one who led the way for all of them. If he hadn't become an artist, the father might've expected much bigger things of them. And Ez had already done so when he was young, his artistic spirit. Even though his father had hoped his need to be a leader would also make him want to pursue other things.

"All that technology, maybe you're right, I am old," he offered with a grin. "And you're tiny, though much better suited for this whole online world. Anything blowing up in our area that I should know about?" He called it theirs, even if Chellam was born on another continent. She was blood, half his, but still full Tamil. They didn't look that much alike, one might think she was the one growing up under the hot sun, and he'd been kept in rainy Britain. She was the youngest, and thus the new apple of their father's eye. But she was also the last of nine children, and the final one to find their father's attention was being cut further and further between kids.

Ezhil had always accepted his role: new kid meant he needed to step up. But while he would protect them, he did feel like they had to make their own choices.

His eyes brightened. "Of course. I'd be doing myself a disfavour if I didn't: we're changing the collection then, so I've gotten a huge number of LGBTQ+ artists from the area to display their work at the gallery, and we have four schools in Fenrir's Wood that are sharing their works about what it's like to be out. It's going to be amazing. Probably my best work yet," he said. Which he said about every new exhibition he cooked up.

The way he desired to assert her confidence was perhaps offset by the comment about the audience. It really only reminded Chellam that her audience were people who just wanted to look at the pretty things she had, through whatever parasocial feeling that gave them. It wasn't necessarily bad, she did work hard, but she just...wished she worked hard at something that felt more fulfilling. In her mind she wished to be something and an influencer, not just an influencer. "Hard to be modern when you are so terribly old," he teased them slightly, just as she teased their other brother in town.

'Sounds good.' She wanted to laugh a little at the way he was humouring her. He probably didn't have any interest in being social media famous. He could just sell his art to rich people and be known in the right circles. It wasn't a cold response but it did make her feel a coldness in her chest. "Most of my feed is South Asian or Middle Eastern, but TikTok should pick up my regional shift soon," she explained with a slight shrug, it didn't matter.

"How have you been otherwise?" Chellam asked, hoping for a topic change. "Do you have any plans for pride? Some pretty installation perhaps?"

[ezhilbharath]

Ez went in front of Hrid as he led his younger brother back through the gallery to his office, a huge spacious area that held a single desk but was mostly there to offer him some private space to work on his art. Right now it was filled to the brim: new paintings, sculptures for a new exhibition - he was thinking of doing one outside - and some storage boxes for the paintings that had been vandalised.

He jumped on his office chair and quickly typed in some things on the computer. "Wait, where are you getting your coffee? A home coffee maker?" Not that CoffeeKanteen was an establishment their father would've agreed on: far too common place. But it did fit Ez' artistic vibes. "Not just rainbow cups, you can get cups with your own flags, honestly, whomever does their marketing: brilliant idea. I wonder if they have all the flags or just the most common one." He typed up some more things and then grinned back at Hrid. Of course he hadn't told their plans. He'd probably intended to but forgotten.

"We're going to the drag show at Starstruck," he said, with a grin.

growing up, hrid had been surrounded by several boisterous siblings, while he himself was more inclined to be quiet. sometimes it was easy for him to be spoken over, even if that wasn't their intent. it was interesting to him how much he and ez contrasted each other, with his brother being such a vibrant personality. nonetheless, hrid couldn't find it in him to mind his sibling's energy, it never failed to bring a smile to his face to see the other's excitement.

as he's dragged away from the piece of art he was viewing, he can already feel ez's energy begin to rub off on him. it's contagious, the way his brother seems to have an excitement for life. "coffeekanteen has rainbow cups? i'll have to stop by there, i didn't know they were doing something for pride." he hasn't been to said coffee shop in a while. "i don't think you did tell me, actually. what exactly are we doing?"

[ezhilbharath]

"You have a better place to be?" he asked, leaning close to Reza and whispering in his ear. He ignored everyone easily, it wasn't as if he didn't do this more often. He was into it, the secretive idea of sneaking away - loudly - with another person, the closeness of human bodies, passionate moves. He loved to be who he was, he loved to love others for who they were. He just enjoyed being someone's centre of attention and making another his centre of attention.

He led the both of them to his own office, a large room where he kept some of his newer works, had a desk, and planned new exhibitions, or searched the internet for new works to put in display and new artists to hype up.

He grinned when Reza locked the door behind them, only to drive straight towards him and pull their bodies together. He pulled Reza with him to the wall furthest from the door, and returned the kisses hungrily, deepening them and pushing his tongue into Reza's mouth while his hands greedily pulled his shirt up his torso, fingers trailing the hot skin.

Reza huffed; his lips painted with a smirk as his brows arched at the bold remark. “Really now?” He loved how bold Ezhil was being, in a space where everyone could see how openly they flirted with each other instead of being hid away in the dark or behind closed doors like some kind of dirty secret. Maybe the artistic worldview allowed Ezhil to be bold, to be as eccentric as he wanted and not cared about what others who didn’t matter think of him. Wasn’t that what art was about? To freely express oneself without worrying about societal constraints? Then again, what did he know about such thing anyway.

He pulled Ezhil closer when his arm was brough around the other’s shoulder, fingers sliding across and played with the hair on Ezhil’s nape before settling on the shoulder once again. “I can’t wait.” Reza smiled, ignoring the eyes that followed them when his own glued to his newfound playmate. He wasn’t even paying attention to where they were going, only when they have entered one of the rooms that Reza tore his gaze away from Ezhil momentarily just to close the door behind them, the sound of it being locked was punctuated with a soft click. He took a few strides towards Ezhil and pulled him by the waist, kissing the other deeply and hungrily.

[ezhilbharath]

Ezhilarasan laughed. Because he knew instantly it was a joke, but of course he needed to continue the banter, as if they were actually going to go head to the store and get some dirty magazines. "I promise! I don't joke about that thing either."

The Artist pretended to wipe something off of his shoulder and grinned. "Thank you, and yeah, kinda. Either Banksy or kids on skateboards," he said. He finished a wing of his bird. "Yeah? So you're used to this type of vandalism?" he asked, with a grin. "Or did you do something else when you had nothing better to do?" he asked.

"I wasn't one of those kids, my dad definitely had bigger dreams for me, but I did paint some walls and got caught," he admitted. "Not something you'd want to have happen to you in Madurai, but my dad always got me out." Ezhil had very little worry to announce that his father was filthy rich.

Annabelle's lips purse together tightly. "Okay, but do you promise there'll be dirty magazines later? Because I never joke about that kind of thing,"

They were, of course, joking about that exact kind of thing.

When it comes to art, Annabelle did not consider themself to be much of an artist, a family trait that she did not appear to have inherited. They knew a little about color theory and some historical art periods...which didn't do much in terms of street art. How would learning about cubism and understanding how different shades of blue were created help leave her mark on this town? They could just sign their own name...but that felt a little too obvious. And Annabelle was no Banksy, either.

"I...well...Okay, fine, you have a point about Banksy," Their eyes roll. "Is Banksy who you think of first when it comes to vandalism?" She asks. "I always think of punk kids with nothing better to do painting the sides of trains. I should know - I used to be one of those punk kids with nothing better to do."

[ezhilbharath]

Ezhil wasn't even paying attention anymore at the fair enough, he was far too happy to be leading someone through the place. Pride washing over him as he spotted several doting on his works and that of his colleagues, hand gestures brought to the canvas and the sculptures, talking going on while faces were directed to the paintings, not to their glasses. He did not mind, or would not have minded, if their conversations were solely on the mundane things they experienced in their daily lives, but he did appreciate that the art wasn't just there to look at, it was there to be talked about.

Creating on single piece of canvas was a fantastical experience, but seeing it come together in a room with that of others was magical.

He turned his face to meet theirs. Lilette Vaz, not as famed as her wife, but certainly just as famous. A figure with great standing in the community, and with the type of presence that his knew his father would've instantly fallen for - had they been interested in that. "Well, I'm very pleased that your re-introduction is at my event," he said with a voice bursting with pride. "And yes, had to pull a few strings, but both the gallery owner and the bands figured it was a good opportunity," he said with a wink. "You're staying for the final act, I presume? Or coven duty call you away early?"

"Fair enough," they agree with a slow nod of their head, a gesture that conveys an acceptance as profound as it is subtle. The idea of sharing so much in common with their wife, to the point where they begin to blur into one entity, makes her smile spread from ear to ear. Turning their heads simultaneously in response to their shared name is something she strives to regain after her departure. Like enzymes and substrates, she and Helia fit together like a lock and key, their binding crucial for catalytic activity.

Since she’s missing her enzyme, she instead kindly takes Ezhil’s arm, and hitches herself to him for the rest of the evening. "You may settle for Lilette, then," she says, her tone tinged with warmth and a hint of playfulness.

Following his lead, they begin to traverse into the chaos, thankful for his guidance amidst the playfulness of the gallery. The scene around them is a cacophony of vibrant colors, animated conversations, and the clinking of glasses, each element contributing to the dynamic of the event. Lilette often feels as if socializing is a chore, a task that requires her to conjure enticing words and carefully curate questions to keep others engaged. She much prefers answering questions rather than posing them, safeguarding her own thoughts from prying curiosity.

As they weave through the throngs of people, she finds herself reflecting on the peculiar nature of human interaction. She gives him the information he asks for right away, as if to preempt any further probing into her personal musings. "Not too long ago, actually. I'll have you know that this is the first event I've come to since settling in," she admits, her voice carrying a blend of sincerity and a touch of vulnerability. "I've heard a couple of musicians are gracing us with their presence. Is this possible by your persuasion too?"

[ezhilbharath]

"I do think," Ezhil said in return, wiggling his head in a show of trust in her abilities. "They don't have to be on canvas, you know," he said, as if he'd read her mind. "You can make pictures of some of your tattoos, display them, blow them up, really show the detail of the line work. Of course you'd need permission from the people you tattoo'ed, but it could be an interesting exhibition, especially when it's designs that were specifically requested from you," he suggested. Of course he'd thought this through. He was the art director for a reason - along side an artist in residence. He liked spotting talent, and he enjoyed including the community, that was why he usually made sure there was a room or two for amateurs or up-and-coming artists.

He grinned, and gestured for Roxanne to follow him. "Of course my colleague artist in residence," he said, pointing at the bronze and granite sculptures. Luckily this resident often worked from home, because the noise was when she was working was intense. "But we have some former students from Dulant here too," he explained, as he pointed at paintings, photographs, and sculptures left and right. There wasn't really an over-arching theme, so he'd made sure to create a kind of colourful journey, with the bronze and granite sculptures in the middle of every room.

A smile spread across Roxy’s face when Ezhil confirmed it was indeed his artwork. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for recognising his style. “Do you think?” She replied, glancing around at the other pieces on display. Some styles were familiar, others were new, and a few she vaguely recognised without being able to place the artist.

“I don’t know if mine can compete with the other artworks on the wall – but maybe?” She added with a modest smile. She felt fairly confident in her artistic abilities, especially when it came to tattoos, but drawing for an exhibition felt like a different challenge altogether. The canvas of human skin seemed more forgiving and personal than one destined for a gallery wall.

“So, who else is displayed here? Give me a tour,” she nudged Ezhil playfully, her curiosity piqued.

[ezhilbharath]

CLOSED STARTER for @hridyanshbharath location ; GOOD DUCK ART GALLERY

Ezhil was the big sibling, the oldest among the nine Bharath children and thus the one who set the course for all the others. The fact that he'd become an artist meant that the kids after him could become artists too. However, he wasn't that much older than his next sibling. Only a bit more than a year between them, Ezhilarasan and Hridyansh had grown up next door to each other, both hoping for quality time with their father; both getting showered with love by their mothers.

But Ezhil had grown up a vibrant and energetic child, while Hrid was more reserved. It did make it more possible for Ezhil to assume this pack leader role.

Though he did joke that Hrid was his trusted general.

Ez grabbed Hrid's arm and dragged him into the gallery after him. "Did you get the coffee in those rainbow cups from CoffeeKanteen?" he asked, even before asking Hrid how he was doing. "I have to finish up something, then we can head out. Did I tell you what we're doing?"

[ezhilbharath]

Ezhilarasan passed through life as if he wasn't the eldest child of a rich business man with a name all over the world. It was a pretend act that led to him doing a few illegal things - mind you he always got freed after, because despite it his father could pull a few strings and get him off scotch free - including stealing cars, going on joyrides, and stealing alcohol.

It was what drew him to the scene to begin with, never one to judge, he knew there was a story behind it, and he couldn't wait to be hearing it.

He had a grin on his face. "Did you loose your keys?" he asked, eyes glinting. "How are you going to start it?"

@fenrirswoodstarters

she had told others she had met her boyfriend through a dating app, or high school, or any decent excuse she could come up with but the truth - the deep dark truth - was that she was a child that practically grew up in juvi. maybe it was the fact they both suffered at the hands of a horrible family life or maybe it was mere coincidence but they had both become fond of each other through their shared experience of breaking the law. she was known as ‘the speed demon of new orleans’, known to many juvi kids as the one who managed to steal cars from big names in new orleans. hell, she had even convinced many she had stolen two of the city mayor, a name well respected in her community, cars

so when she saw that her car was locked, she let out a small sigh and ran a hand over her face as she looked around. “i really thought i got past this phase,” she muttered to herself as she took a credit card down and began to play with it where the lock was in her door. cars were more advanced then they were when she was 14 but she had hoped that it would be simple for her to break through. hearing a noise, her eyes widened and a smile formed. “still got it, mavs,” she breathed to herself as she opened the door and stood up before hearing a noise and turning her head. “if i say this is my car will you believe me or do i have to start begging?” she asked

[ezhilbharath]

Ezhil nodded, a smile on his face. “That makes sense.” He didn’t comment however on whether or not he was just flattering her, clearly she wasn’t interested in modelling for another person, so if thinking she was being flattered made her the happiest: he’d comply. He was happy at least that his offer was taken lightly, with the hearty laugh that rung through his brain. He wished to know what it meant, but for now he was just happy to have heard it. 

For a moment the Artist frowned, then returned his smile. She misunderstood him, but he wasn’t sure how to flip the switch in her head that that wasn’t how he meant it. So he waved it off. “Not how I meant it, but I’d gladly be shouted for a drink.” He touched his moustache in a moment of self-consciousness, before dropping his hand back down to his side. The idea of salivating over big men and women made him feel sick in his stomach, but he could flag the reason why she said it. He wondered if people who said they liked skinny people got the same type of response. 

He grinned. “That’s a given, and also easy,” he said. He was glad for a home cooked meal, but there were plenty of Indian restaurants in the UK, and if you found the right ones, they’d have traditional food. The Artist held up his hands. “Alright, maybe for the best, I’m not sure the spells are 100% trustworthy either, since they were given to me by a witch.” And meant for the protection of his own family. Luckily he’d never had to use them.

Sofia certainly did not desire to be eaten, looked at she was not exactly seeking but she felt it was simply sort of silly when people pretended like she wasn't attractive. It was like pretending you didn't like the music you listened to simply because it charted, it was so juvenile. At his suggestion of drawing her she laughed herself, not hearty but sort of surprised by their gaul. "I'm already someone's muse," she responded. "But if you're just flattering me I'll take it."

"Ah," she let out. Sofia was cautious, she knew how people could be, how they acted about her. Sexualising someone for their size, well, in her mind it was no better than people sexualising her for her skin colour or youth, she hoped his tone was more villainising than his actual feelings. Preference and sexualisation were two sides to a very thin line. "Well my Abuelita doesn't need some short dude with a creepy mustache tryin' to grind up on her, try the strip club, we have big men and women who will happily take your twenty quid for you to salivate over them," she responded. "I'll even be nice and shout you a drink."

She shrugged at the notion Indian food was better though, certainly it had been all she'd been eating since she arrived but also finding good Mexican food in the UK was impossible without begging her sister to cook. "Certainly better than cold meat pies," she conceded. "You can talk about our grandmother's all you like though, I still wouldn't trust a werewolf to give me a spell to avoid werewolves, not that I've found any witches to be more trustworthy." It actually felt rather the opposite, but even if Nish offered her something she would not have believed him, she'd have assumed it was a trick by the council, to leave her exposed, so she would need them.

[ezhilbharath]

Ezhil chuckled. He didn’t comment on it however, it wasn’t as if spraying paint on the street was going to be a less obvious admittance of vandalism. He held up one of the cans and shook it, he already had an image in his head to spray on the boring concrete space. “Let’s start with vandalism,” he suggested. “We can see about the dirty magazines after,” he winked at Annabelle. 

He started on the wing of a colourful bird and frowned with a smile at the comment. “Pretty sure Banksy is about my age, street art isn’t age-restricted, you know. Neither is crime.” He changed colours and continued to create the bird with big broad strokes. Good thing this was his specialty: producing something quickly and on a big scale. “Or is that something you would like to gatekeep?” He hung out with youngsters too much, all these words. He couldn’t help the grin. Annabelle had a match if they wanted to do banter.

Annabelle rolls their eyes. "Yeah, let me just announce that to everyone. Should we go ask some kids if they want to do drugs, too? Or maybe we can tell the corner shop clerk we're going to take their naughty magazines before we actually do it?"

Still, despite her teasing, they take the first can of spray paint from the top of the bag. They hadn't been in Fenrir but a couple of months - and still felt as lost and confused as ever - but she wanted to make her own mark on the town, something they could come back to, some sort of proof she'd been here. "You sound like one of those adults that's acting like they're ten years younger than they actually are. Let's just tag this wall, yeah?"