ORIGIN

"Sweet." He went back to work, taloned feet prodding and poking the brush at the canvas. He spoke as he worked--as claws detailed out the individual shapes of birds, and added pale golden-pink light and darker blue shadow, like a sunrise above the clouds, along with a vaguely accurate skin texture, to Fulgur's shape.

"So--you like to tell stories?" Imp asked, dabbing here and there. "What sort of stories--I mean, I know you said shit you've seen or done but. You got any good ones yet? Maybe you can tell me one while I work? Y'know, pass the time?" he suggested, glancing with an open, friendly glance to Fulgur. "Why do you wanna tell stories anyway?" He suspected it was something like his artwork--a desire to create, and to leave a mark. But he knew he might be wrong, and he wanted to hear it from his guest.

His work now--the details--weren't perfect, and weren't even great, but they were decent, even good in places. Perhaps he'd touch it up--this wasn't his final work, after all--but it wasn't awful, at the very least.

Imp nodded a long a little as he worked. His eyes were fixed upon his canvas, but long bat ears twitched at Fulgur's every word.

The cave description was quite familiar to him, of course, and he nearly interrupted but caught himself to let his guest finish. And when Fulgur had finished, he glanced back and paused in his painting, squinting in thought.

"White slick stuff..? Like--ice?" he guessed. That was the first thing that came to mind, for him; maybe Fulgur just hadn't ever seen snow and ice before? But then again, Canis wasn't cold. Not usually, anyway. "I know the cave, though. At least--if it's the same one. Canis! I got my eyes ripped out there, once," he added amiably, turning back toward his painting. He gave it a moment to dry as he spoke, before starting on some detailing--little bits of texture and lighting, the correction of crooked lines and smudges.

"Not a lotta green there, right? You get to it through a creepy fuckin' tunnel? Or uhh. I guess there's the other way, now, too," he added thoughtfully. "What is it, through the crystal cave?"

"If it's the same place I'm thinkin' of, I'll have to go check it out!" Seriously--ice in Canis? "Anyway, I'm sure you'll get plenty new stories, eventually! Hell, you could even make some up, for now." He paused, glancing back. "Not lying, but like, just stories, y'know?"

Not ice? Snow, then, maybe. Obviously, that was the only other real possibility. (And for all Imp's alleged creativity, his thought process here showed a distinct lack of it.) And as for his eyes, and getting better--"Fuck yeah I did," was his only answer, an offhand sort of interjection.

He sat back, allowing what he'd painted so far to dry. He'd add the finishing touches shortly but for the time being he glanced back at Fulgur with his tail out behind him and his hind legs sprawled forward in an awkward sploot, half-balanced on his wings. His expression, despite his goofy stance, was keenly attentive and even interested--and he quickly nodded along. "Exactly that place. Like, what the fuck is wrong with it-? Cursed, or some shit," he added, with a mutter and a shrug. "I know that Collector guy wanders around Canis so at first I was like, hey, maybe he made it seem all spooky. But I feel like that'd drive away business. ...Maybe he knows, though," Imp added, thoughtfully. Probably not worth the price.

"You could! Just be careful who you trust. Some fuckers are really only out for themselves," and rather than bitter, this bore an almost kind tone of friendly advice. "But maybe if you got everyones' stories you could swap 'em around. Or even trade in secrets! Imagine that shit. A secret-seller," Imp mused, though realistically he wasn't sure how that would... work, really. 'Information broker' wasn't exactly a common role in the caves. "When you do get some, come an' tell 'em to me, yeah?" His glance back, again, was friendly. "I bet they'll be badass."

"Well, yeah, I mean with permission. Secrets about the cave and shit, not betraying anyone's trust--fuck that. Betrayal, I mean. Betraye... Traitors? Whatever. They suck."

He was on to the final finishing touches, now. A taloned foot raised again, the glimmers of very pale paint--whites and golds and light pinks--providing splashes of light where reflections cascaded from Fulgur's wings and the edges of the clouds, and the strange bodies of those tiny flockmates. "As for the Collector, eh, watch yourself. I get the impression--maybe it's just from the shit I've heard. But he asks pretty high, fucked-up prices, sometimes. And the shit he gives out ain't always what it's cracked up to be." Again, Imp wasn't sure on details. Just the word-of-mouth around the caves.

After a few more moments, he eyed over the painting.

The end result was good, Imp realized, as he stepped back. He held the brush in one foot, in the manner of a parrot, and glanced to Fulgur with a grin. "All done, I think-... So, whaddya think? Am I missing anything?" And then, proudly: "If you like it, you can take it home! -Wherever home is. After it dries, I mean. Otherwise it'll get smeared to shit," he said, and laughed.

Imp laughed, good-natured and pleased. "Shit, dude, I can hang it right in the palace halls!" he crowed. "Whaddya think? Right where everyone will see it? You'll be the talk of the Palace for weeks, I promise." This guy wanted to be known? "You'll have people goin', 'hey, didn't I see you in the Palace, on a painting? You must be somebody important!'" Imp grinned, scrabbling down from the easel and holding a taloned foot up to frame an invisible painting: "Right alongside the Masters!"

He eyed Fulgur again, even as he settled the foot back on the floor, where it most definitely belonged. "Anyway, glad you like it! Thanks for sittin' so still. And to your, uh. ...Friends, too." A nod, then, to the flock. "I did plan to make two, though, you're right! I can do that now or later. I can make a small one for you to take with you, yeah! If you want? Now or later," he clarified--he couldn't exactly remember what he'd offered to begin with, now, but he was easygoing.