Art Imitates Life, Supposedly PV Gabriella Finished

[font=times new roman]Abstract. Rhea hated abstract art. It was stupid, useless, messy, and way too expensive. It absolutely lacked value. Back when Rhea's father had been with Miss Parkes, she had forced them to attend these dignified art shows, and Rhea had hated every moment of them. Why the formality? She, the least talented artist she knew, could have made the art on display there. It was spilled paint. One of the pieces there had literally been captioned "spilled paint." Yet, she was not allowed to touch anything, and every item came at a tremendous price.

Rhea hated abstract art. Yet, here she was, apparently producing it. Her bitterness was immeasurable.

She could sense that Gabriella was vaguely unimpressed too. For some reason that hurt a little. Perhaps it was because of her current sensitive state: her guard was totally up, but so fragile. One more little prick and it would come crashing down on her. She stopped for a moment, composing herself, repairing her walls so that she would be unreachable. Her face returned to its former stoicism (stoicness? No, stoicism). There. Now Gabriella could not harm her.

Okay, fine. She would continue, but with less detail and intricacy, as the Ravenclaw had recommended.

Rhea, nearly having reached the sketchbook's last page, began to once again paint the outline of the mountain. It felt like going through the motions now; the line up, the slight crook, and then the v-turn back down. Maybe if she practiced this enough the whole painting would be perfect.

But she didn't have unlimited paper. She only had four more sheets besides the one that she was currently using. Stupid flat little sketchbook. Her anger only increased when she started on the mountain in the back and accidentally made the line too thick. She felt her hand start to shake, her teeth grind together. This whole thing was stupid and she should have given up by now.

No. This is a cycle and it's happened to you nearly five times in the past few minutes. Break the cycle. Embrace the mess like you did before.

Embrace the pandamonium.

With a mighty roar, Rhea dipped her brush in a shade of bright blue from Gabriella's pallette and painted wildly over the background mountain, smearing the grey and blue together in one fierce stroke. She feathered it out, using short strokes outward to make the mountain appear to be covered in grass, or fur. The tip of the mountain, the upside-down v, had a thicker layer of paint on it than the rest of the page, and Rhea pulled it out into a swirl. Her fingers were covered in blue paint.

This was fun. This was not frustrating. There was no pressure to be accurate. Rhea lost track of time as she swirled the paints, rinsed the brush, dipped it in a yellow-ish paint and began the sky. She tried rapid downward strokes, one after the other, until the yellow combined with the blue slightly and green began to appear. It didn't quite look how she had hoped, and Rhea felt a spark of annoyance once again. No. This did not merit irritation. She returned to the blue and went over the mountain outline again, contrasting the light yellow sky.

It still had the undeniable unprofessionalism of a child's hand, and although that was not ideal, Rhea moved past the inconvenience. She would glance over at Gabriella's painting, then back at her own.

"Thank you for your help" she would mutter abashedly, an edge of self-deprecating anger in her voice, before returning to her work unless Gabriella is to stop her.

Right, Gabby, the Ravenclaw told herself. Enough helping; get on with your own painting.
Thank you, conscience. Gabriella had taken to talking to her conscience a lot lately, as if it were her friend - like irritating snowflake loner girls did in Muggle fanfiction. She wasn't sure if she enjoyed it or not, but her conscience did seem to keep interrupting, and usually its advice was good. Therefore, she dipped her brush in some yellow paint and added a tiny amount of blue, mixing the two colours together to make a sickly yellow-green - this colour was not supplied already in Gabriella's paint set. She winced at the colour; it definitely wasn't one of her favourites, although luckily she would just be using it as a base layer rather than the final colour. She needed to get the shade even lighter than the shade she had used for the sky, so that if it all went wrong she would be able to go over it when the paint dried.

The Ravenclaw glanced up and began to draw the rough outline of the trees - she was only doing the base layer, there was no need to be precise. As Gabriella got herself into the rhythm of the painting, she almost forgot the Gryffindor was even there - she was lost in her own internal peace, her senses blocking out everything external to her body apart from the painting and the scenery, no sound, no smell. She wasn't even totally aware of the grass she was sitting on. Gabby smiled; for the first time since coming to Hogwarts she felt alone in the world, and she loved it. While usually she was a very extroverted person, she had never really had any friends in the Muggle world, so her social battery often ran low, and here - finally - was a chance to rejuvenate it, she thought to herself, dipping her brush back in the sickly green paint to do another layer.

Suddenly, a fierce motion to her left brought Gabriella out of her reverie, and she turned her head to see Rhea with a brush full of Gabby's bright blue paint, smearing it all over the paper. Embracing the bold colours again, the Ravenclaw thought, frustratedly. To be fair to Rhea, she had told the Gryffindor to 'think of Picasso' but she doubted even he used colours as bright and bold as this in the first layer. Gabriella tried to hide her pronounced wince as Rhea mixed the blue haphazardly with the grey, smearing it with her fingers like a child might if he got his hands on playdough. For a few minutes Gabby watched Rhea, growing increasingly horrified as the Gryffindor made the painting - there was no other word for it - worse and worse.

She tried to draw her eyes away from the monstrosity, but she couldn't; the bright colours of Rhea's painting kept catching her eye like they were yearning to be seen by someone. Gabby wanted to tear the painting apart, to smash it, but-

Gabby, you need to calm down. It isn't a monstrosity and it isn't terrible. It's a different style; leave her alone.

As always, her conscience was right, she grumbled internally to herself, wishing it could be wrong at least occasionally.
"Thank you for your help," muttered Rhea, and although Gabriella hoped to high heaven she was being sarcastic, she merely replied, "You're welcome."

Word count: 570
Interacting with: @Rhea Miller

DATE: Feb 26, 2021 #702933 INTERACTING WITH: @Gabriella Haworth MENTIONING:

OUTFIT: Reducio Uniform +

[font=times new roman]She noticed that Gabriella was watching her process once more, and became slightly more self-aware as she continued to swirl the paints on the paper. It wasn't even really the scenery anymore. It just looked like random shapes, overlapping upon each other, creating new, uglier shades. A few stripes on the edge had begun to turn into an vile brown.

Gabriella almost certainly loathed it. And why wouldn't she? By her standards, this painting was an abomination. Too terrible to exist. Rhea once again remembered the muggle art shows, the bumpy ground covered in a thin layer of mud beneath her feet, the post-rain atmosphere and the soggy chill. It was dreary weather, a dreary location... but the paintings, the hideous, absolutely disastrous paintings, they almost brightened it up. Somehow, the paint splatters and the mixed shades on the bright white canvases, the mess of it all, turned the insipid scene into something almost exciting.

Maybe that was the point. Not to be perfect or pretty, but to be bright and loud. To announce its presence in the most explicit way possible. To be a lot to take in.

She looked back at her painting with fresh eyes. It was terrible, sure... but that was the point. The process was in the effect, not the appearance itself.

Whoa. Deep. Rhea was, once again, blown away be her own philosophical capacity.

She swirled her paintbrush in a circular motion on her page, further mixing the paints. The mountain was gone, and her original design was absolutely ruined. The paper was nothing but a blend of a dozen shades that were practically impossible to distinguish from each other at this point. It was undoubtedly the worst thing to ever come from her hand. Naturally, she tore it out of the sketchbook and turned, once again, to Gabriella.

"Wow," she said, almost smirking and holding up her masterpiece. "This is absolute garbage." She pinched it between her thumb at forefinger at arms's length, as if she were disgusted by it, before crumpling it into a misshapen ball, getting paint all over her hands.

"Here," the Gryffindor offered, holding out the crushed, rumpled page to Gabby. "I dare you to throw this as far as you can. I think you deserve the honor."

If Gabby says yes:
Rhea watched the paper sail through the air, feeling a bit satisfied despite the events of the day -- or perhaps because of them. Yes, it made sense for Gabriella to be the one to dispose of the painting, since she had attempted to help Rhea with this skill and Rhea had downright done the opposite of her very clear instructions. It had all come together quite nicely.

If Gabby says no:
Rhea shrugged, stood, and then wound up and pitched the balled up paper towards the ever-expansive lake. It sailed through the air in a perfect arc and hit the ice somewhere in the distance. The sound of the soft "thunk" it made took a moment to travel to where the two stood. She smiled slightly and turned fully to look at Gabriella.

"Truly, thank you for tolerating me," she said to her... acquaintance? Or friend now? "I know how immature and unreasonable I was being. I do appreciate it."

And with that, unless Gabriella speaks some more of course; then she'll stay to listen Rhea Miller retrieved her coat and bag, and began to hike back up to the castle.

Rhea has left the thread

Reducio

Thank for this, it was really fun! You're a fantastic writer and I am honored that you threaded with me

As much as Gabriella wanted to continue with her own artwork, she couldn't help dragging her eyes back to Rhea's own splodge on a page. She could detect that Rhea knew she was watching, and although she disliked - intensely, intensely disliked - the Gryffindor's painting, she couldn't help but feel guilty. Everyone has different talents, she reminded herself, scathingly. And it's not up to me to judge them.

The Ravenclaw drew her eyes away from Rhea's painting and returned to her own work. Now, where was I... ah yes. The lake. She raised her eyes and gazed out at the scene, her eyes drinking in the colour - she was determined not to draw the lake as blue; that would be a beginner's error. No, the main colour of the lake was not blue, but grey - a colourful grey, for sure, but a grey nonetheless. She took a swab of cool grey paint and mixed it with a lot of white on the palette, her brush gently blending the colours together in one swishing motion. With the new colour she had just created, Gabby traced the outline of the lake and filled it in very lightly. Was that it for the background? Nothing she'd missed? There was the sun, but Gabriella decided to take some artistic licence and not include it - it wouldn't look realistic, she thought, if she were to draw it. She might be a good artist for her age, but she was by no means a professional, and she knew her boundaries. I'll just use highlights, she said to herself, add a few shadows, make known the sun's presence without explicitly drawing it. She paused for a moment in an artistic pose, her paintbrush hanging lazily from her slender fingers. Yes, that'll work.

Suddenly, Gabriella was interrupted from her musings by a loud ripping sound on her left. Rhea. She rolled her eyes to herself, half-amused, half-irritated.
"This is absolute garbage," smirked Rhea.
"Nah, not really," replied Gabby, kindly. She wasn't sure where the sudden lenience was coming from - she had been rather annoyed at Rhea before - but now, suddenly, she didn't seem too bad. "You're definitely improving." This much was true - while what Rhea had created was hardly a masterpiece, she had made a significant improvement since the Ravenclaw had first sat down with her.

Rhea crumpled up the page - rather savagely, Gabriella thought, though she couldn't really judge on that - and, to the Ravenclaw's surprise, she passed it to her. A cheeky grin appeared on her face for the first time, and Gabby thought it rather suited her. "I dare you to throw this as far as you can," she jested, putting it in Gabby's palm. A wide grin split across Gabby's own face, too.
"Sure," she laughed, throwing the ball of paper with all her might towards the lake. It was a good shot, and they heard a faint splosh as it hit the water.

When she turned back around, Rhea was still there, beaming. "Thank you for tolerating me," said the other girl. I know how immature and unreasonable I was being. I do appreciate it."
"Not at all, not at all," replied Gabby, politely. "And, uh - I'm sorry I was rude about your painting, even only in my head. I'm sure with practice, you'd be really great." There was a pause in which nobody said anything, and in that moment Gabriella realised that this proud, stubborn Gryffindor was her friend. "I'll see you around, Rhea," she said, as the girl turned and walked back up to the castle.

And with a smile of contentment, Gabriella Haworth sat back down and continued with her painting.

Word count: 623
Interacting with: @Rhea Miller

Reducio

Thank you too, this was a really fun RP! You're also an amazing writer and I hope we can RP together again some time

-END OF THREAD-