#93 - Chimera- Painting - Tekia - Original

[tekia.livejournal.com]

Title: Painting
Fandom: Original
Prompt: # 93 Chimera
Warnings: May contain traces of yaoi.
Rating: G
Summary: I wanted to describe my new character, and take as long as I could to do it. I like this definition : Genetics. an organism composed of two or more genetically distinct tissues, as an organism that is partly male and partly female, or an artificially produced individual having tissues of several species.


Dejan reached behind him toward the table he knew was there. His fingers brushed against the handle of the paintbrush he was seeking. With nary a flick of a glance, he set the tip to paint and added just the right shade of green to canvas.
The light was wonderful in this room, thanks to the grand windows lining the west wall. Soon the light was going to fade, but until it did, he wouldn’t budge from his spot before the easel. His brown gaze briefly turned to the boy sitting in the lush lounge chair. The boy was reading a picture book, his finger lining the words as his lips moved silently.
Well, he was trying to read. A little furrow curved his brows down as he concentrated and Dejan felt a small smile come to his lips.
No sooner had he smiled than the boy’s tail began to move about on the hard wood floor. Dejan wiped the smile from his face and repressed his emotions. It still unnerved him now the creature could so easily read him. He wasn’t even looking at him. He brushed strands of red behind his ear and returned to his painting.
The tail had moved.
He frowned, glaring at the portrait. He hadn’t painted anything in a very long time, and this was turning out to be horrible, although the subject gushed over it every chance he got. Stupid native couldn’t even recognize bad art.
He focused on the painting, driving out all other thoughts as he applied colors. The purest of black for his waist length hair, straight as an arrow, and as soft as silk. He set aside the thick brush and selected one with a finer tip to apply the highlights of green and only the faintest hint of brown. The boy had spent all of his youth living out in the open, and the sun had tried its very best to bleach his hair. It didn’t get very far.
Next were his ears, tall, with only a smooth coating of fur that started brown at the base, hidden by his hair, and darkened to match said hair, black as pitch. They were as soft as they looked. Tufts of white hair grew upright before his ears, making him look so much like a house cat. As he watched, one ear turned one direction, listening to noises Dejan couldn’t discern.
His hands were long fingered and sharped clawed. Yellow and green scales started at his elbows, growing in density until his hands were literally covered in them. Belied by their reptilian appearance, his hands were often very warm to the touch, and soft, if odd. His claws were forever protruding, perfect for digging and tearing bark from trees, but horrible for civilized life. Dejan grinned as he watched the boy try to turn the books page, fumbling as he did his best not to destroy the book.
His tongue was also reptilian, forked and slim. And often peeking between his lips. He was always flicking his tongue out to express his glee, or his dissatisfaction, as he was now toward the book. Dejan added the bright pink to his canvas.
His shirt was riding up in the back where he slouched in the lounge and Dejan could just see the scales that littered his back, protruding until they turned to a layering of feathers covering the base of his tail. Vivid scarlet and black drew the eye to his tail. He kept them hidden by his shirt, as the feathers were few and small. Dejan often found the little things floating in the air like little pieces of burning embers.
The Fihu race were always evolving, shedding their old skins and growing, throughout their lives. When the boy had first attached himself to Dejan, he was shorter, his tail smaller and he’d had no feathers. With his first transformation, the boy had also grown ridges down his tail. When he got excited, that tail whipped around and proved to be dangerous.
Dejan found he quite enjoyed kicking it out of his way when the boy was being too clingy. He glared as he painted and the tail began to swish back and forth on the floor. The tail was going to be the hardest to paint. It started out with feathers at the base, then thick tufts of fur, grey and black in color, then scales the rest of the way down. The scales varied in color, each one its own unique hue of yellows, greens, browns, and black.
Dejan decided to save that for last and turned his attention to the human part of the boy. His face, chest, torso and shoulders. His people were tribal, living in the planes of their home world. The air was arid and the heat unbearable to humans. The Fihu loved it. Their human half had adapted by turning their skins a dark brown, nearly red.
He was slim, lithe, and small. Very similar to the rest of his race. It was his eyes that marked him as an individual. They were the most remarkable shade of green. As often as his emotions changed, so did the shade. One moment they could be as light as a leaf in direct sunlight, and the next be as dark as pine tree needles.
As Dejan lost himself in the colors on canvas, he didn’t notice that the boy had moved from his seat. He felt the stare and had to pull himself away from his art. He turned his glare on the boy.
“What?”
“You’re gone.”
He eyed the boy, knowing that with his last transformation he had gained more psychic abilities. His eyes narrowed.
“Miro, have you been reading my thoughts again?”
He shook his head violently. “Not after last time. You’re a grouch when you don’t get your way.” A slow grin spread over his features. “But when you paint, you go away. I can’t feel your thoughts, your emotions at all. It’s like you’re in a far away place.”
Dejan leaned forward until their noses were nearly touching. “A place where you can’t reach?” The Fihu youth nodded slowly, his eyes nearly crossed as he tried to focus on a splosh of paint on Dejan’s nose. “Good. I need time away from you anyway.”
Miro frowned, green gaze turning to his own brown eyes. “But, I don’t want you to leave.” He reached out and tried to wrap his arms around Dejan. Sensing his intent, Dejan pulled away, upsetting his table and knocking a paintbrush out of a cup. He caught it before it hit the floor and smiled wickedly at the boy.
“How does it feel to want?” With that, he stuck with the paint brush, quickly splashing a streak of bright green across the boy’s face. Outraged, Miro reached for his own weapon and soon the two where throwing paint wildly.