[PKMN OPEN] Off The Menu [Aw, ain't you a big tickle?] [T] [OOC]

​

​

"Did you have an art teacher, or did you learn by yourself?"
Jean-Georges perked up at "scribe" and nodded; that was exactly what the lady at the museum had called him, too! The octopus had been struggling to remember the term since he had enlightened her, and he couldn't very well ask her again once she was gone. Though, he seemed a bit disconcerted when Cadbury had called writing different to art once more, because he - personally - couldn't discern any distinction between the process in creating what his peers called "traditional art" and "words." Perhaps that was because of his method; he wasn't so much a "duplicator" - as his furry companion had commented - as he was a tracer, or whatever Mister PJ had titled him that seemed to suit well.

The Octillery thought about what the phrase "teacher" meant to him ... certainly, there was one overwhelmingly obvious answer in accordance with both his spiritual and practical life, but up on land it meant someone who actively aided another to harness skills so that the latter could functionally perform said act without the educator's further guidance. He gestured to the picture of Spindas once more and waved a pen around, giving credit where it was due when it came to matters such as using more socially appropriate writing utensils - as he had explained - but the relationship he had with his mother hit the nail more on the head: but whether or not she could be considered a "teacher" per se or simply a taskmaster that requires and reinforces artistic skill in her children to convey her own knowledge, was up for debate. In any case, he flashed one of his favorite renditions of her:


Suddenly, the octopus remembered that an old flip book of his kept an illustrated copy of his technique, and pulled it out for the badger to peruse.


When Cadbury had finished, Jean-Georges' eyes had gone noticeably glossy and he was sketching a small, gothic-styled portrait of the Linoone. Once he had finished, his cheerful gaze returned, and he presented the sketch to his friend with a joy that was almost palpable.

"Do you have any friends?"
He wiggled all his tentacles around in elation, letting out the highest pitched gurgle his course voice could produce. He grasped the hand of the Kirlia and patted it warmly, incredibly excited at the prospect of procuring another friend. He had persuaded many friends to join him since his permanent surfacing on land and more were always welcome! Jean-Georges snagged up the picture he was gifted and slipped it right behind the front cover of his sketchbook.

Considering that she had asked, and that soon she would be joining them, the Octillery took a nearby framed standing chalkboard and detailed a picture of his other friends for the Kirlia:


These two were his favorite subjects; he had met them long, long ago on the beach when he was just a drone of a Remoraid, before the current age - when their peculiar species dominated the earth - and there were thousands just like them in the sea that he had befriended since, but there was something more artistic about this duo that pleased him. They were very young and eager, and loved the water, so their descent was very poetic and fitting, he thought. Which reminded him; he had a related picture in his repertoire about their baptism!


Though, he was a bit biased. It was his first time out meeting anyone or working for his mother, and granted he was in a swarm of his brothers and sisters so the couple most likely didn't take any particular notice in him, but the specialness of the encounter never left him.​

(Click Here for his Interrogatories Compilation)​

​