Chapter 147: Three – Wear Your Sunshine on Your Ship

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Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Three - Wear Your Sunshine on Your Ship

I swooshed the brush across and left a big drippy smear of paint across the wood. On the backstroke, I pressed all the little dribbles back down with a quick slash that turned the hull partially yellow, with only pinpricks of the wood beneath visible.

The brush went into the can hanging by a rope next to me. I swirled it about within, then took it out all dribbly and wet with happy yellow, and back onto the hull it went to add another streak of colour to the Beaver’s side.

I had never really spent all that much time painting, other than a few hazy memories of arts and crafts in elementary school and some scenery painting I’d done for fun. I remembered being really bad at it. More enthusiastic than talented. But painting a hull wasn’t painting people and homes and happy little trees, it was all one uniform colour, so even a dolt like me could do it, no problem.

I wanted to paint it like a mural with rainbows and cute critters and a big smiley-faced sun. but Amaryllis said no. She said no very emphatically.

So far, I’d done the entire stern of the port side, an entire can and a bit of yellow paint liberally applied on freshly cleaned wood. I was nearing the bottom of the ladder I was using to paint. In a bit, I’d have to move it over a step or two and start back from the top.

I was stepping down to reach a lower section when something bright caught my eye and had me turning around.

Awen stood next to the ladder, head down so that all I could see was her long blond hair. “Awen?” I asked.

The girl nodded, then looked up. “Broccoli,” she said. Her eyes met mine for just a moment before twitching away. “Broccoli, are we friends?”

I blinked. “Of course we’re friends!” I said. “You’re one of my two best, best friends. And you’ll be my friend forever and ever. Broccoli Bunch doesn’t abandon her friends.”

Awen was still not meeting my eyes, but she did smile, small and shy, a bit like that first time when we’d met all of a couple of weeks ago. “Thank you,” she said.

I hung onto the ladder and watched as Awen darted away, slipping under the prow so that I lost sight of her within a few steps. I didn’t know what that was about, exactly, but I was sure I’d figure it out eventually.

I got back to painting, adding more brightness to the Beaver so that it would look like a happy little ship. I was really looking forward to taking him out for a spin through the skies. We could paint stripes on the prop at the back in different colours so that it would look pretty when spinning, and I was sure they sold sails in colours that weren’t the plain white of the newly installed sails. We could have one in every colour!

Humming a happy tune to myself, I continued painting with big cheery strokes. The sun was shining bright overhead, and the air smelled like fresh paint and--when the wind came in just right--like freshly baked bread.

It was going to be lunchtime in a bit, a good excuse to pause, but until then I’d do as much as I could.

“It’s a bit clunky,” I heard Amaryllis say.

“Awa, I can try to make it better. Um, but I think it might be better if I start from scratch.”

“That’s fair. I think most of it comes from my own lack of skill. It will take some practice before I reach a level of competency that I’m comfortable with.”

I leaned back on the ladder until I could see my friends coming around the front of the Beaver. They weren’t alone.

At first I thought they were with someone else, but I had to discard that as the third person stepped out into the light. It was a puppet. A big, human-sized puppet, one with limbs made from wooden stakes and with a barrel-like torso. It bore more similarities to the dummies used as target practice than with a proper mannequin.

It clunked along, its wrists and ankles and joints tied to little cords running up into the air, then around and towards Amaryllis who was holding a little cross-shaped thing. “Done gawking?” she asked.

“Not yet,” I said. “Is that for your puppetry skill?” I asked.

“It is,” Amaryllis said. “More for the sake of practice than anything. Awen here made it for me.”

Awen clasped her hands together and shook her head. “It was nothing. Amaryllis needed something to practice on, and I didn’t know what to make. It’s very rough.”

“It works,” Amaryllis said. “Broccoli, do you have more paint and brushes?”

“You’re going to help?”

“World no, I’m not going to dirty my feathers with that gunk. Have you seen yourself?” She gestured at me. A glanced down and took in all the yellow streaks and dots all across my battledress. “You look like someone who survived some tragic incident involving an entire jar of mustard.”

“I can clean it off,” I said.

“Yes, but you won’t have to clean it off me because I won’t be covered in it,” Amaryllis said.

I watched her walk off, her puppet stumbling after her as she made her way to a little shed where the paint and painting equipment was stored.

“Ah... I didn’t make you anything, Broccoli,” Awen said. “I’m sorry? I couldn’t think of anything you needed. But, uh, if you do have something you want, please tell me?”

I grinned down at her, and got a smile back in return. “I will! I’m sure the Beaver needs a whole bunch of things! He’s going to be the coolest ship ever, which means he needs the coolest gadgets ever.”

Awen nodded. “That, that makes sense. I think... I think we can add some weapons, just in case of pirates.”

I scrunched my nose up. “I guess that’s not a bad idea. Maybe weapons that are hard to see? In case of non-pirates. We don’t want to scare people off.”

Awen looked at the ship for a moment, and I could tell she was thinking something up. “I’ll be at the workshops,” she said.

“Okay! I’ll call you back for lunch in a bit?” I asked.

“Oh, of course!” she said.

I waved her off and went back to work until Amaryllis stepped out of the shed. Her puppet had a can of paint tied to one hand and a paintbrush jammed in the other. It had acquired a few drops of yellow across its front, but the real change was Amaryllis. Her entire outfit, once a nice brown shirt-pants combo, now had a wet, sticky front in eye-searing yellow.

I greeted her with a snort. “Going full canary?” I asked.

“Shut up. Now use that peasant cleaning magic on me. I don’t want to be seen this way.”

I hummed and tapped my chin with the back tip of my brush. “I don’t know. Humility is important.”

“I am perfectly humble as I am, now clean me.”

I splashed her with a bit of Cleaning magic and watched her shudder as the paint just kind of melted off of her. “Thank you,” she said.

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“No problem. So you’re going to paint with your puppet?”

“That’s the idea, yes,” she said. “I need the practice, and the ship desperately needs a coat of paint. Not... this disgusting shade and colour, but beggars and choosers and so on.”

“I like the yellow,” I said.

She glared up at me. “I’m aware,” she said. “It’s very much your kind of colour. Next you’ll want us changing the sails to match.”

“I was thinking they could be other pretty colours, actually,” I said.

Amaryllis made a disgusted sound and moved to the side, her puppet dutifully following along. It slowly moved its hand over the bucket of paint it was holding, carefully dipped the tip of the brush in, then lifted that arm up with janky motions until it was hovering by the side of the ship.

The arm struck out, hitting the hull with a dull thump and leaving a roundish yellow splatter on the side of the ship.

“Uh,” I said.

“Shush you. It’s natural that I don’t have the fluidity of a more seasoned artist.” She glared at the puppet and had it swing its arm around in a nice, fluid arc... that completely missed the side of the ship.

“You keep practicing,” I said as I got back to my work.

We continued in companionable silence, only interrupted by my occasional happy humming of old songs from kids shows I liked and the thump of Amaryllis’ puppet hitting the side of our ship and leaving great big splotches of yellow on it.

It was only some time later that I noticed Gen-Gen and a pair of maids coming into the courtyard with a table between them and some trays. The butler helped the maids set up while another pair came over with some folding chairs and set them up around the table.

“Miss Bunch, Miss Albatross, your luncheon is ready,” Gen-Gen said. “I have sent word to Miss Bristlecone as well, she should be joining you soon.”

“Ah, thank you, Gen-Gen,” Amaryllis said as she carefully had her puppet fold down onto the ground in a way that didn’t tip over its bucket of paint. “I was getting a bit hungry.”

“Indeed,” the butler said. “I should inform you that Miss Rosaline will be arriving soon. She wishes to visit the shopping areas later in the evening.”

“Shopping is fun!” I said as I bounced down the ladder. Setting my paint can and brush down next to Amaryllis’ puppet, I took a moment to clean myself off then skipped over to the table.

There was a kettle filled with boiling water, a small selection of teas, and a plate covered in different sorts of sandwiches. The maids bustled about for a bit, pulling out chairs for us and placing fresh plates around the table, and then--just like that--they were off in a flurry of black and white robes.

“The staff here are really nice,” I told Amaryllis.

“They had better be,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe how well-paid they are. It’s ridiculous.”

“Really?”

She nodded and picked out a couple of sandwiches. “They have ears and mouths; they could spread clan secrets. And it’s not unheard of for a servant to poison someone for the right price. So they’re paid well enough that any bribe to get them to betray the clan would need to be astronomical.”

I nodded along as I pulled the kettle closer and then brought the tea box closer. There were all sorts to pick from, so I went about sniffing them all for the one that smelled like it would taste the best.

Awen arrived just as I was stirring the tea. “Have fun?” I asked her.

She nodded, her hands tangled up in a bit of cloth in an attempt to get some grease off her hands. She obviously didn’t notice the cute little smudge right on the tip of her nose, and I elected not to tell her until I had finished with the tea.

“Milk, sugar, cream?” I asked.

The girls told me what they wanted and I prepared three cups with a bit of a flourish.

Congratulations! Through repeated actions your Tea Making skill has improved and is now eligible for rank up!

Rank D is a free rank!

“Oh! Tea Making has ranked up,” I said as I sat back down.

“That’s handy,” Awen said.

Amaryllis sipped her cup. “I suppose it is. You really ought to invest in some non-plebeian skills.”

“I’m working on i--”

Bing Bong! Congratulations, your Wonderlander class has reached level 2

Mana +5

Flexibility +5

You have gained: One Class Point

You have unlocked: One Class Skill Slot

I blinked, then shivered as the little pulse of level-up joy coursed through me. “Oh,” I said.

RavensDagger

Vacation over :)

I spent most of it playing Space Engineers since Cyberpunk 2077 was a bit of a disapointment. 

Was fun! 

Now, back to the grind! My backlogs are all scrambled, so I need to work my tush off to rebuild them. I think that'll be the goal of January, to write 4 chapters of each story every week to rebuild my buffer because it's in tatters right now.

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