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Post by quinnquinn on Dec 3, 2015 5:08:47 GMT -8
He realised the man was calling him Flitwick. He shook his head and gave him a stern look. "I am Owen." He said with furrowed brows - more expression than anyone would see in a regular basis. "I am not letting you paint the birds." He turned the shoulder with the crow on it away, out of the other's reach. "The birds are the right colour..."
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IT WASN'T ME, I TELL YA! IT WAS THE SUGAR PLUM FAIRY!
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Post by misterrainbow on Dec 3, 2015 5:50:10 GMT -8
"Whatzit?" Maxwell raised his brows curiously at Owens corrections and laughed at him as if it were a silly mistake.They were ignored, of course, and he carried on as he pleased. Hands extended to wagle a feather in Owens face, as though to try and tickle his nose. "Why not, Flitwick? Ain't ya like that color blue? It's very fetching, I thinks. Very Handsome. Very pretty, too. Don't ya wanna be pretty, Flitwick?"
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Post by quinnquinn on Dec 3, 2015 6:05:29 GMT -8
Owen didn't like how he was being ignored. He leaned back out of the way of the feather, though it was nowhere near him. "Blue is pretty." He tilted his head, eyes furrowing more. And his voice was slowly raising, though he didn't know it. "Blue is not for me. Blue is not for the birds too!" By now others around them had turned to see the commotion, some more tuned in than others. After all, a conversation between two mad men would be interesting to some.
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Post by misterrainbow on Dec 3, 2015 6:28:42 GMT -8
"I concur! It's the perfect color!" Maxwell reeled back on his heels to take a good hard look at Owen, tapping his chin with the feather in his sticky fingers. "Actually....any color would be perfect for you, Flitwick...seeing as you ain't got none at all. But, see here. I has plenty! You can has some of mine!" Twisting to look himself over, Maxwell picked out wet splatter of paint on his palms and clothes. A mess of blue and violet that Maxwell swept up with the feather to promptly thrust in Owen and the birds direction withbevery intention of smearing them with color.
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Post by quinnquinn on Dec 3, 2015 6:39:31 GMT -8
Owen's reflexes weren't the best, but instinctively he covered the bird with a sleeve. He didn't know if this stuff was bad for it, but it was likely that it was. He couldn't let this bird get hurt on his watch! "No!" He yelled at him, standing up and trying to scoot back out of the way. It was the first step towards colourful chaos.
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Post by misterrainbow on Dec 3, 2015 9:23:17 GMT -8
"Hold still, Flickwick!" Even though Owen had blocked him from Coloring His or the birds faces, Maxwell accepted the canvas presented to him and smeared a long colorful line across the baggy, white sleeve. Stepping quickly after, Maxwell wrapped his fingers around the edges of the sleeve like a vice full of hooks to hold it out taut. And casually flickered the paint coated feather across the bland material like a masterful paint brush. Feathered lines messily coloring the sleeve in no particular pattern. "See here? Look at that. Blue is DEFINITELY your color! Gosh, this would look absolutely LOVELY with a bit of green! I think I have some on my toes--"
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Post by quinnquinn on Dec 4, 2015 1:18:38 GMT -8
To Owen's horror, he hadn't run out of the way quite quickly enough. He let out a screech as he saw his beloved straitjacket splashed with colour. "No!" He yelled again, tugging against Maxwell. "Give it back!"
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Post by misterrainbow on Dec 4, 2015 10:06:23 GMT -8
The Sleeve was released on cue on Owens demands. Not because Own demanded him to, though. The painter freed up his hand to jerk his feet out from under himself to check for green pigments squished between his toes. He hopped about to keep his balanced while doing so, tickling himself with an offhanded giggle as he scrapped the yellowed gunk off with the broad side of his feather. "Here, here, I think I found some! I used this color for the grass and leaves," He'd explain, pointing the paint gobbed feather to the ceiling where his unfinished murals were drying.
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Post by quinnquinn on Dec 4, 2015 22:08:45 GMT -8
Owen frowned at him for that, but was appreciative that he let it go. He looked at his sleeve. Well. He'd have to throw it to wash prematurely for sure... Hopefully it wouldn't stain too badly.
As Maxwell pointed towards the ceiling, Owen was lost in the mural. It was colourful, engaging... It was kinda nice, other than this disruptive man being here.
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Post by misterrainbow on Dec 9, 2015 20:27:55 GMT -8
"It's a very good color. It's as bright as spring moss and perfect for coloring the green stuff green. It's not my favorite color, but I like it well enough. I like lots of colors. Like red and blue and violet and pink--Gosh, I just love all the colors. I can't pick just anyone color." Maxwell rattled on for a while, pointing out colors as he named them off. As would be to Owen preference, he'd entirely disregarded trying to paint the boys sleeves--for the moment. He had quite notice Owen string absently at the mural with interest, though. This pleased Maxwell, whom turned on the young man, bouncing closer to his side.
"You like it? I was painting it all day. Whatcha think? what's yer favorite? I like the Rainbows best. Rainbows are amazing. Do you have a favorite color? I betcha it's blue. Blue is definitely you."
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Post by quinnquinn on Dec 10, 2015 5:38:38 GMT -8
"It's nice..." He said, focusing more on the mural than Maxwell. "Blue is nice," he turned to him. "I like blue. Blue is nice." He nodded. "There's so much blue..." Owen commented about the mural. "Blue is nice." He said again, not realising how much in a circle his solo conversation was going. The bird on his shoulder cawed absentmindedly as it was growing bored.
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Post by misterrainbow on Dec 10, 2015 12:31:35 GMT -8
Maxwell wouldn't seem to mind one way or the other how Owen was speaking. It was really quite amusing. The little man just grinned and beamed proudly. "See! I knew it was! I know everything! Everything bout colors. Blue was definitely your color! Good thing I painted lots of blue. Your a bird person, so you're here a lot. So you'll appropriate my petty blue skies. Gosh, but the sky isn't done. I should probably do a thing about that......"
He paused to contemplate climbing back up to finish his mural, but the caw of the bird drew his attention back to the half painted thing sitting on Owens shoulder. Waggling the green glopped feather against his chin, leaving a grassy green soul patch, Maxwell slowly reached out to try and bap a glop of yellow green on the birds beak.
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Post by quinnquinn on Dec 11, 2015 14:41:05 GMT -8
Owen was taken in by the mural still, but the crow was in alert for Maxwell. Seeing the man come closer with paint, it cawed loudly again and flew away. Owen was far too slow to react, so by the time he did the crow was gone. Even so, he still held an arm up towards where it would have been.
"nO!!!" he screeched again, leaning in to Maxwell, then pulling back to see where the crow had gone. It had a little paint on it still and he had to get it off somehow. He had to spot the bird first. It could get in one of the water baths or something similar and dissolve the paint in there, but he wasn't sure if the birds were smart enough not to drink the water after that. He had to find it. He broke his attention away from Maxwell to track where it went with his eyes.
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Post by misterrainbow on Jan 13, 2016 0:04:53 GMT -8
[Million light yeas later........OTL]
Maxwell jerked back with the boys yell, grinning widely as his ears buzzed and rang. Wow! Quite the lungs on that one. That was surprising. he wondered how much louder Owen could get. He wonder if it was worth testing. Glancing from Owen to the ceiling, he gauged the time he had on his hands before making the rough calculation that...he had all the time. They were 'dead', after all--or whatever you called it.
While Owen was busy gawking about, Maxwell sized him up and took a few steps opposite of where Owen was looking. Then pondered a moment how to make him holler again. Scare him? Jumping at people usually worked. Jump cares were popular fear factors. though angry people were loud too. Oh! Why not both then? Owen could definitely use a little more color-- and he certainly seemed very tidy like Sisi.
With an abrupt "CAW!!" Maxwell lunged at Owen with his paint covered hands, intent to tackle him and leave his colored prints all over the white clad boy.
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Post by quinnquinn on Jan 22, 2016 3:30:00 GMT -8
The tackle came as a shock more than a surprise, and Owen let out a loud holler in reply. Maxwell landed on top of him, the cool paint seeping through his straitjacket. The boy let out an equally aggressive bird cry back to him, pushing him off. He had to find that crow! It would be disastrous if it were to fly off... He looked back up. The crow was just flying off again, scared off by the loud noises made by the pair.
"Nononono no nO NO NO NO NO!" Owen cried, slipping out of Maxwell's grip and chasing after the crow around the room. It was hard to miss a black bird with a dollop of green on it.
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