Pan watches the artist at work, his eyes following each line of the brush as it dips in the earthen paint and then returns to the rosy canvas of Euryale. There is noise thrumming outside of the tent, but it goes unnoticed as all focus turns toward the painter. Before his eyes, the boy sees a rose bloom, and his smile widens at the sight of it. Oh, to be such an artist, to be able to replicate the beauty in the world on canvas… but Pan could no more draw a straight line than he could paint a rose. All the more respect he had for the traveling entertainer and her troupe. He preens when she mentions his compass, and as he turns, the light catches it just so and it seems to sparkle – if only for a moment. And now, it was Pan’s turn. Her question lingers in his mind – what would he get… but then, inspiration strikes. He shimmies a shoulder forward, sending his faded leather satchel swinging down low against his chest. Rummaging through it, he pulls out a piece of tattered kelp, unwrapping it ever so carefully to reveal Orien’s shell. It was a thing of beauty, all pale pink and twisting peaks. Gingerly, he motions to it as the painter settles down to work, the first spiraled edges coming to life against his neck. I found it he explains, on the beach. No further explanation is given for the strange and ethereal looking item – and though it once surged with an old and strange sort of magic, now, it simply seems to sparkle in the light. It was the boy’s prized possession. The ink was cold against his skin, and Pan shivers for a moment as he watches the artist work, holding still for what seemed like forever. And done! He grins at the painter, sliding a rusted coin across the table as he carefully folds the shell back away, turning back toward his new friend with an eager light in his eyes. The festival brought out the joy in Pan, much like other fanciful things in the world – but it was the liveliness of his company as he’d traversed the various locales which truly pleased him. Did you see the sea witch? His voice is a hushed whisper as he peeks around Euryale toward the shambled tent with the wide toothed sorceress. You don’t think… he gulped, his child eyes wide with wonder you don’t think she really stitches with magic, do you? But then, Pan had seen stranger things in his life… if only he could remember.
@Euryale
