The Artist, the Director, the Poet, and the Agriculturist

Introduction

Author's Note:

made this for fun

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Operator Files: [Dusk, Nian, Ling]

In the heart of Rhodes Island, the Doctor, immersed in his work, always found himself couped up in his office. The cityscape of Lungmen outside his window, and the quiet mumble of voices filled the airs of the hallways. However, a trio of eccentric girls became frequent visitors, their arguably competitive sibling banter disrupting the otherwise serene atmosphere of his workspace.

These trio being: Dusk, Nian, and Ling.

Dusk, the youngest of the three— quiet and irritable; the antisocial. She found herself taking glances at the man whenever he accompanies her during her time spent making paintings. She often thinks about him. The way he provided Dusk company and insights helped her understand some certain aspects of the world around her, despite the look that lacked of interest in his words, she always did take his advice to heart. That's something she'll never admit to him, or anyone else.

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"Dusk?"

A voice from behind interrupted her methodical stroke. She turned around, placing her brush down, her eyes slightly widened before she glared at him.

"Doctor? What do you want?"

She was sitting on a small stool, a large canvas towered over her. The room smelled of ink and dust. The large canva contained a painting of a mountain peak, heavily burdened by coarse strokes that served as the snow, and rough strokes that serve as the harsh weather. It looked complete, yet not quite finished.

The Doctor shook his head, pulling him out of his trance.

"Hey, uh, you made a door on the walkway next to my office?"

His head peeked over the door, or, well, 'door portal' as some operators would call.

"Is there a problem?"

"Ah, well... Not this time. I see you've followed my words and placed the door on the side this time around?"

"Hm... You didn't answer my question." She hid her face.

"I found one of your small ink spirits roaming inside my office. I thought that was an invitation?"

Dusk's face relaxed for a moment, giving him an annoyed look.

"Thank you for finding that one, Doctor. But no, that was not an invitation."

"Oh..."

Puzzled, the Doctor reached for his neck, sheepishly rubbing it.

"I'll be on my way then—"

His words were cut off by the small ink spirit in his hand as it gently bit his finger.

"Ow!"

He immediately let go of it as it fell to the ground, running off to Dusk.

"Since you are already here, why don't you join me, Doctor?"

"If you don't mind..."

He carefully stepped in the room, a cautious aura emitted from his presence, but not one of hostilty.

"Come, sit. You will watch me paint, yes? Good. Just stay there."

With no room to argue, he simply listened and sat patiently on the floor as he watched her paint.

Dusk dipped her brush into the palette, her eyes focused on the canvas. The rhythmic strokes of her painting were interrupted by the voice of the Doctor, who observed her work with genuine interest.