Marks of me and you

It started with a mere pawful of crayons.

August froze as they spilled from his jittery paws onto the ground. He stared, voice caught in his throat, as one of them rolled farther than the rest. It traveled forward on the pebble strewn dirt until it bounced, surprisingly quietly, against the storm spirit’s chains.

“Uh- sorry, so sorry, I tripped.”

That was obvious, he hadn’t needed to say that. August's fur bristled hotly. They had seen him trip with their own two eyes.

Though he didn’t meet Ameokk’s eyes, August could feel the red burn of their gaze in the edges of his vision.

In the dim cavern, the glow of their pupils were twin matchsticks.

(Not once when he had visited had their eyes not been red.)

(After the first time meeting them, he had scurried to the library and scoured the place for anything on Storm Spirits. In a tome shoved back in a corner, pages stained with time and dust, He had read that those glowing eyes were a threat display. That if the dangerous beast’s eyes flashed with color, any smart creature should retreat as swiftly as they could.)

(But he wasn’t so sure.)

“I thought you maybe- you might get bored so, I brought these. And um, this is a nice quiet place for me to draw. if you- if you don’t mind. If it’s okay, me staying, I mean.”

The chains scratched against the stones as they shifted, the sound made him shiver.

August watched Ameokk’s spindly tail strain against the weight of them. Numerous crystal-imbued manacles were locked skin-tight to their tail, their limbs. Slowly, the metal scraped against the ground they positioned themselves over a bed of moss instead of the pebbles they had been resting on before.

Already, August had his notebook held against him with his little paw and a pencil gripped in another, though he waited for Ameokk to give him some kind of response before sitting down to draw.

When they spoke, their voice was slight enough that it didn’t echo in the room as August’s did.

“… it is okay.”

August wilted. They sounded as though they hadn’t drank anything in a long time.

Oh… August should have brought water instead of art things… He didn’t think they would deprive him of that… didn’t Mom want them alive? He didn’t know her plans for the creature, but surely she wouldn’t keep them here if she didn’t have a purpose for them.

A rock sunk in his stomach as he considered that purpose may not require them to be alive. He dearly hoped that wasn’t the case.

“Great, cool! Oh, sorry, I’ll be quiet now. I get quiet when I draw anyways.”

With a burst of golden keyaa, August shifted to his fragile form and plopped onto the ground, there was a few feet separating him and Ameokk.

Chains jangled sharply, making August jump and look towards Ameokk.

They had sat themself up, though their arms shook with the effort, and was squinting at August.

Crayon clutched in his hand, he waited. Had he done something wrong?

“…Again you shift accidentally?”

Oh. “No,” Embarrassment curdled in their stomach. Not this time, thankfully… “It’s just easier to draw this way, with hands, not paws.” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. Then he froze. “But, um, I can shift back! I can still draw in primal form. Or uh- maybe I can’t shift back… It-it might take me a moment, sorry.”^*5

Ameokk stared at him as though he were a puzzle, then slowly laid back down. “It is okay.”

August blinked. He waited for something else, but apparently that was it. “O-okay….” He adjusted the grip on his crayon. “Okay. Cool.”

After one more cautious glance towards Ameokk, he started drawing.

And as always, it was his escape.

By his hand, brilliant streaks of color appeared on the page. Lines and dots and little etched marks, he had to concentrate to piece together what he wanted, but in that concentration all the other worries of his mind drifted away.

There was only him, the paper, and the crayons.

Though in the back of his mind, there was also Ameokk.

Others around him while he drew was usually something terrible. It made him freeze up, and his hand forgot all the ways to put lines and colors together to make pictures.

But while Ameokk did watch him, it wasn’t as biting as the gaze of other creatures. August couldn’t pinpoint why, but the company of a creature his own age was nice. He hoped it was the same for them.

August drew for some time in silence, trading colors when he found it necessary, and sometimes stopping to simply look at his piece, trying to decide if it needed more or less.

If not for the occasional clink of chains, he may have forgotten Ameokk was there.

“What is that,” they said.

August jolted, crayon dropping out of his paw. “What’s what?”

“Your drawing. The-” They cut off suddenly, sucking in a raspy breath. “White and red thing there.” They had a subtle accent he hadn’t noticed until now. A rounding on their O’s, harder H’s, softer R’s.^2*

He looked down. “Um, it’s…” he had just been doodling whatever. He hadn’t considered they would ask what he was drawing, so hadn’t thought about having to explain it. 

As he stared it at now though, his mind whirled. Maybe he shouldn’t say exactly what he’s drawn…

But… lying felt bad when they hardly trusted him already.

He just wouldn’t mention the details! That would work!

He turned the drawing towards them and pointed. “She’s my friend, her name is Eliza. I haven’t seen her around in a while though.”

August had not realized the strangeness of calling what he had depicted as Eliza his friend.

Though her fluffy, white furred face had a cartoony smile and swirly pink blush-marks, the rest of her was a looming mass of tattered clothes and centipede-esque appendages. He hadn’t intended to make her look scary, that’s just the way she looked.

Chains dragged against the ground as they leaned forward.

“The bugs are… pets of hers?”

“Huh? The bugs? OH, you mean,” August scooted closer so they could see better and pointed below her skirt. “These are her legs.”

“I… see.” August missed it because he was focusing on the storm spirit’s cloudy hair instead of their face, but they looked as if they had bit into a soft food and been met with an unsettling crunch.

Then a thought popped in August head, and it made him feel so bad he spoke it immediately.

“Do you want to try drawing? Sorry I didn’t ask, that was, um.” He shuffled his notebook, there were pages he could rip out. “I don’t have extra paper. But you could draw in here, or I could rip some pages out for you.”

Though his face felt hot, August risked a glance at their expression to find a blankness that only made his face feel hotter.

“Or-or, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was only. Only if you want to.”

There was a pause. Then,

“I have not used… those before.”

August eyes flicked to the crayons, then back to them. “…That’s okay, they’re pretty easy to use, I think. Oh, they’re called crayons, they’re made of beeswax.”

When Ameokk made to drag themselves forward, August instead scooted towards them, turning back around and collected the crayons after he’d adjusted position.

While his back was turned, he didn’t see Ameokk stiffen at his close proximity. Nor how their eyes widened, staring as though August was the strange, rare creature instead of themself.^1*

“Here see, you just.” August demonstrated by dragging an orange crayon across the page, then making some swirl designs. “It’s easy.” He dropped the crayon and pushed it and some of the others towards Ameokk so they could choose whatever colors they wanted.

Their head was bowed over the crayons. One of their paws, laid limply on the ground, twitched and rose to grab a blue crayon. Then stopped moving altogether.

They stared at the notebook.

“I do not… know what I should draw.”

August ears perked. “Oh, uh.” That was never an issue for him, how could he help? Even when he didn’t know what to draw he just… did until something happened and it turned into a drawing.

“You don’t have to have something in mind. You can just scribble until you figure it out? That’s what I do.” Then he realized something. “Oh wait, before you start.” August took the notebook and ripped out a page for himself, otherwise he would be forced to stare at Ameokk drawing, and he didn’t know whether that would bother them.

Placing the notebook back infront of them, he laid down on his belly and got to doodling on a new page.

Ameokk watched August for a time. Because he made it look effortless, his yellow eyes so close to the page as his hand drew seemingly nonsensical lines. That was allowed? They could just… make marks? The marks didn’t need to be anything?

It seemed… strange. But there wasn’t anything else to do.

They looked down, adjusted the blue crayon in their paws.

 Luckily, they had given themselves opposable thumbs and longer fingers at some point, so using a tool like this wasn’t much issue. Though the weight of the chains and general lack of... food and water, had left them feeling wobbly.

They glanced at August again, who wasn’t directly facing him, more facing to the left of them. He appeared to be making dots, with ripples of different colors surrounding the dots.

That seemed doable.

They dropped the crayon to the page. The texture was scratchy but not unwelcome against the side of their paw.

Shakily, they dragged it across the paper, and it bled a blue so vibrant it tasted of the sky.

Their hand shook moreso as they took a moment to stare at that color. A color they had not seen in some time.

They continued.

Just scribbles. Swirls and dots and clumsy, thick streaks. But August was right, and eventually, something started to breathe onto the page. With an energy that felt both soft yet frantic, they grabbed an orange crayon, a pink, a yellow, a red.

They continued, hand moving ahead of their mind.

Time passed, they weren’t sure how long.

Then they realized it was done.

It was a sunset on the sea horizon. What they remembered of the crag-coast^*3.

The sea was so blue it hurt, and the white crests of the waves were uncolored blobs. On the horizon, the sun was a heavy, red dollop, swaddled in feathery pink and orange clouds. In the messy swirls of the waves they could smell the salt, hear the crash on stony shores.

Their chest panged and they dropped the crayon.

They blinked away something wet in their eyes.

But what was most confusing to them, was that next to the cold, fragile feeling swelling in their core, there was an additional tiny rush of something warm.

Because that blue was so beautiful. And this little image of the sea in a notebook that wasn’t theirs had been drawn from their own hand, their own memories.

This little image existed because of them.

They collected themself, tracing all the lines they had made to put together the scene. There were so many, they didn’t remember making all of those.

Once they had managed to collect themself enough, they looked towards August.

He was absorbed in what he was making, which was still unclear to them. It looked like there were some bugs, some plants. No distinct scene, however. It was still lovely.

Suddenly, they had the urge to show August their drawing.

Certainly, he would see it anyway, it was in his notebook. But Ameokk wanted to show him.

Then this sea would not only exist in their memory alone.

After a beat of hesitation, Ameokk pushed the notebook across the ground until it bumped into August’s arm.

Predictably, he jumped, then looked over. At first, his face was a blank surprise, he had, after all, been interrupted with what he was doing.

After he realized what he was looking at, he immediately brightened into a smile and made a happy sounding chrr.

His response made something flip in Ameokk’s core. In a good way, but they felt off-kilter as they soaked up the rest of August’s reaction.

“Wow! This is really good, I love all these swirlies and how you did the clouds.” He made a grabbing gesture towards them, yet didn’t actually touch the page. “They look so soft, like cotton-candy.”

He liked their sea. He liked the way the clouds looked soft.

They weren’t sure it would be appropriate to say thank you.

“…Cotton-candy?” They asked instead.

August made a clicking noise, twice the same pitch. Ameokk assumed it meant something but hadn’t figured out what yet^4*. “It’s a sweet food. It looks like this kinda. It’s very light and it dissolves in your mouth.”

“Oh. I see.”

August took the notebook. “Do you want to rip this out so you can have it.”

Ameokk opened their mouth to say yes then stopped.

There was no where for them to put it. This cell was damp and dirty, it would get damaged.

“No, you keep it. It stay in the notebook, please.”

“Oh, okay, sure. Thank you then!” August smiled. “Let me know if you want to see it and I’ll show it to you whenever you want.”

“Okay.” They didn’t realize, but there was a quiet, barely there smile that had snuck onto their face. “Thank you.”

Most importantly, if someday soon Ameokk ceased to exist, their sea, their memory, would still live in that notebook.