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LMAO at "The redhead snapped back to reality again, wondering why his mind was wandering so much at the moment." xDD I can make Caspa do a tap dance or jump out the window and then we will have something to actually write about perhaps O_O Or... hmm, lemme see. -starts typing-
It seemed her imagination did not stretch as far as the courtly tailor's, as he could already see without trying that certain of the shades would - how did he put it? - capture light, and others create an unseemly colour explosion akin to bringing up bad food. These concepts were not things that she could get her pragmatic head around, so all she could do was nod sagely and hope she was not expected to pass comment. He looked pleased at the mention of red, which lifted her hopes for a moment, enough to forget about the damp rag she was supposed to be cleaning her fingers off with, instead letting it rest on the tabletop for a moment, unwittingly placing it down on top of her charcoal drawing which immediately began to soak into the cloth.
As far as colours went, Caspa liked red too. Red was a simple, basic, earthy colour - not the unassailable and ineffable blue of the sky, or the commonplace green of growing things. If she could ever get a handle on a colour, it would probably be red, the red of blood and of clay, the first primary colour and the first ring in the rainbow - a beginner's colour for sure. But it seemed even this advantageous shade was not the right one for the combination, as he made an alternative suggestion even while holding up a skein of the colour to compare. Caspa stared at it uncomprehendingly, having no idea what the whole would look like, with the patterns in the colour he was proffering except rather than being just a piece of thread, it would be an entire coat-worth of spirals and swirls. How could she conjure that into her imagination without seeing it for real? This was beginning to seem like real magic. But he'd asked her opinion, so she frantically scoured her mind for something to say. "It looks a little... strange," was all she could come up with. Of course, strange could mean just about anything. Every colour and decoration on a garment looked strange to her. Feeling she could do a little better, she moved closer and peered rather intently at the contrast, resting one long finger on the side of her chin in thought, before tearing a neat little strip of paper off the drawing and holding it up next to the red cotton. The white looked bold and bright against the purple, and she drew her hand back with a tiny flourish, "yes, you are right - white, and anything that shines like gold and silver," before to her dismay she realised she had smeared charcoal from her fingers and maybe even from the corner of the paper all along the side of his creamy fingers and hand. "I am sorry," she blurted, quickly catching up the cloth and dabbing to mop away any black marks she could find, before the smudge spread and made things worse. Little did she know she already had one long black line along her ivory jawbone where she'd placed a thoughtful finger, not to mention that the rag was half-black from where the ruined drawing had lain, so the more she rubbed the worse matters became.
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