Ah, Netzach? This is Kaveh - we spoke on the network a little while ago. About art? And, ah, other things. I have a delivery for you that I can bring over today. Would you be home to receive it, or should I leave it at the door?
[ up comes kaveh to the designated floor and room, and the polite knock of someone trying not to have that sound reverberate down the hall and bother whoever else is sequestered away in their rooms. kaveh is at the doorstep with what appears to be a plastic wagon painted the kind of bright fire-engine red you'd see in children's cartoons. it is, in fact, laden with a wooden easel and then some - paints in packages, sketchbooks in jostled piles, a small container of what looks to be erasers.
kaveh's hand raises. ]
And there's you. Ah, I hope I'm not interrupting anything.
[he absolutely didn't expect kaveh to go that far-- but he brightens regardless, touched enough by it for that to outweigh the faint discomfort of someone going to any length for his sake.
netzach pulls the door open and gestures for him to come in; the apartment is a little messy, especially with netzach staying here, a few empty cans taking up residence on the living room table, a pillow and blanket shoved into a corner of the couch without bothering to fold the blanket at all.]
Not interrupting anything at all, though, c'mon in.
[ netzach's face brightens, just a little. kaveh's heart warms seeing it. the gesture's a little one - it hardly makes a difference in the grand scheme of things, but you couldn't stint on them just because it's a mere drop in the bucket. buckets are filled through droplets alone. and so kaveh ducks his head, carefully pulling his little wagon after him as he instinctively surveys the apartment -
it is, kaveh thinks, with some amusement, definitely an apartment that roland lives in. ]
I don't plan on staying long, but let me just get you set up with these. [ kaveh begins unloading the wagon. first comes the easel; he gestures for netzach to stand next to it. ] Let's see if I've adjusted the height properly. Can you hold your wrist up? Just as if you were posing to paint something.
[with a little time, it'll probably gain color-- roland let an artist move in, after all. there are going to be things on the walls whether he likes it or not.
he stands next to the easel with a little hum, though, doing as kaveh instructs, one hand lifted to an imaginary canvas propped on it. his posture's somewhat slouchy, but probably not enough to throw off the height estimate by much.]
Like this? You think that'll work...?
Feels fine to me, but I'll admit I never really adjusted mine.
[chances are high that if he was ever uncomfortable using it, he just stacked up things to sit on or dealt with it.]
[ kaveh looks. the slow elevator crawl of his gaze rapidly collates a few measurements. relief tugs at the corners of his lips: ]
The measurement you gave me was spot-on; it works. And I went through school without adjusting mine either, so I know how it gets - it still feels better when it's a good fit, though. [ next, he slips a few sketchpads onto the easel. ] I grabbed a few of these, and there are also paints from a crafts store. I didn't know if you already had your own or if you brought some from home, so I thought better safe than sorry.
Architecture, actually. I'm a graduate of Kshahrewar Darshan - I think the easiest way to describe it is that we specialise in technology. Our research extends into engineering, textiles, mechanisms and the like. If you can build it with your hands or take it apart the same, we were the Darshan that made the breakthroughs for it.
[ having made a little pile of paints next to the easel, kaveh straightens. his gaze slides past, and then back to the blank puzzle on the table. hm. ] But I've always thought that you can't design buildings for function only. I'm fond of beautiful things. If you design something for humans, it ought to also appeal to humans. But like I said in my messages to you, that's hardly what my country thinks, and that's always been a point of serious contention for me.
[which is pretty impressive, even if it sounds like things are likely different wherever kaveh's from. studying with that kind of association is still nothing to sneeze at.]
Think you're right, though. I've seen a little of both, and when it's just built for nothing but function, it's...
Soulless, I guess. There's nothing put into it, just walls to hold something, and it doesn't even really matter what.
Ah, so it wasn't unilaterally inflicted on everyone there. That's... good, I suppose. [ kaveh says, in the sort of slightly-dead tones that suggest he sort of wishes it hadn't been inflicted on him too. but it's don quixote, he supposes. if anyone were to get into trouble beyond documented compare with the weirdest protein known to mankind and think it's totally normal, it would be her.
slowly, kaveh shakes his head. ] Anyway, I agree with your sentiment. A mere four walls may make a house, but it doesn't make a home. It's the people within that do. And people... they need more than just the walls.
Oh, that's lovely. I hadn't thought to paint over a blank puzzle, but in a way, you're creating your own canvas to do as you like, right? What do you do with it after you're finished? Do you glue it together and frame it?
And it becomes a puzzle again. [ there's something like warm satisfaction in kaveh's tone as he imagines the cycle - from puzzle, to canvas, to art, to puzzle. ]
There are these cloth bags here - I believe they are called 'tote bags'? They're blank, as with most things here, but they make a versatile canvas upon which you can paint anything you like. Once finished, you have a walkable piece of art that can be used to keep your groceries and some such. I've been really enjoying the process of painting on those.
[ kaveh's smile is quick; it softens along the edges of his lips. ] I think I'll leave you to it. If there's anything you're looking for but you're not sure where to find, just send me a message. If nothing else, my listless wandering around this city can be of help.
appending this because i've a memory of a sieve and totally forgot:
[ from the wagon: a breathable plastic suit cover, a set of lint rollers, a pen-sized stain remover and a soft brush. ]
Do you mind passing these along? I know he's got a suit and a set of new ties he needs to take care of; perhaps they'll also come in handy with other high-end articles of clothing that he can't chance to the laundry machines.
sorry this is late..... 08/27...... un: librarian...
( what is the point of knowing everyone's birthdays in her memory that is still working out how to forget shit if she does not. say something. like a regular person who knows peoples' birthdays does. )
According to this city's calendar, today is your birthday. Have a good one. Do not reply to this message.
( yeah that's all please do not ask questions do not reply do not acknowledge do n )
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