Beauty in the Sewer

Claudius snapped up the sandwich and raised his head, closing his eyes as he keened in delight. Mmmm, chicken sandwich!! Oh, so very tasty and fresh! Still as delicious this time as it had been the first. He savored his sandwich, ignoring Ingrid's question. Food, no food, that didn't matter right now. He'd gotten the essentials yesterday, and now he had his treat. That was all that mattered.

Once the last bit of chicken and bread was gone, he sat back with a happy sigh and looked at Ingrid expectantly. They'd been apart an entire day and had left on an awkward note. What would she have to tell him tonight?
 
Oh, how she wished she enjoyed food as much as he seemed to. With him being occupied for the short time being, Ingrid set about fixing a place to sit. There was a method to it: find somewhere that was above the short water level, and relentlessly kick at the sludge until it was no more. It was successful: she was now uncomfortably hunched against the wall to sit. A big win.

Ingrid caught the look. It was her who carried the conversation to make up for non-human vocal cords, and it was never too difficult. The hardest part of a conversation was acknowledging the other person. Resting the back of her head against the wall, Ingrid held out a hand to let it catch falling drops of water.

"I kinda figured it sucked to have me talk, now that I know about you being you. I'd hate to not be able to have an input-- But, then again, that's me. You're quiet even when you talk."
She leaned her cheek into her knuckle, looking over at him curiously.
"In a nice way. Very soft tone of voice. I can't relate too much: I've always sounded like gravel. A friend of mine told me it's because I talk and shout too much, so...That's likely.
Haven't heard from him in a while. Actually, I think the last time I spoke to him properly was....The night I first saw you. I was freaking out over the phone."
In contrast to the almost-traumatic memory, Ingrid smiled to herself as if it were a pleasant recollection.
 
He was not nearly as picky about where he "sat." He coiled his tail as he lowered his haunches, watching her, listening to her voice. He still stared as he listened, still devoured her words like a starving man might devour food. He needed the sound of her voice.

He grunted and tossed his head at her admission to how long it had been since she'd spoken to her friend. She needed someone to relate to! Someone other than a sewer-dweller who turned into a hideous monster for most of the week. Although he was starting to view his human form as the "monster" form... Maybe she needed him, but he needed her far more. To remember who he'd once been.

Claws scratched as he stood and started moving. His glass might be gone, but at least that was a large room-like area that was dry and mostly clean. That would be better than both of them sitting in filth. He padded along slowly, glancing back to see if she would follow.
 
"Hey, don't take that tone with me. I dropped my phone down here and he never checks any media on the computer. And last time I tried to visit, the bastard told me he was busy. He wasn't."
Pointing an accusing finger with a mock frown, Ingrid feigned indifference to the gesture and 'comment'. It stung, but not in an insulting way: more of a... 'I know, you don't need to tell me' sort of way. Her abysmal social was something she didn't need a reminder on-- Despite being the one to bring it up.

"On the move again?"
With a raised brow, the debatably comfy frame didn't shift until he looked back to question if she was following. Once that silent confirmation was given, she stirred and lumbered back onto her feet to join him down the pipes. She could fair a pretty good guess on where they were heading (the options never exceeded 4 possibilities) and was worried. If it was where she figured, she hoped he would be alright.

A stray piece of string had unraveled itself from the seams of her hoodie and momentarily became a hand puzzle, with Ingrid occupying herself lacing it around her fingers.
"I'll have to try and make note of things at some point. Maybe I can leave silly graffiti on the walls as a reminder.."
 
He chuckled softly, the sound coming out as a soft rumbling purr. She amused him with her spunk, irreverence, and moody snark. He walked slowly so she could easily keep up, his tail flicking back and forth like a calm cat with each step. She was a breath of air down here in the dark, something to pry him out of his own mind.

He paused at a junction of tunnels and reached up, his claw tip easily scratching an X on the wall, bright white against the muted greys. He walked through and made another mark. There. Now she new to go straight. He continued forward, marking the occasional tunnel as he went until they reached the room.

The dull, grey room devoid of light. He paused, growling softly at the sight. As much as he thought he'd been prepared, it still hurt. He stepped down and forced himself forward. Bright and colorful or dull and boring, this room was still the best place for an extended conversation.
 
An attempt to trace over the first 'X' mark he made was halted by the realization her fingers refused to unlock from each other. In the mindless swirling of string, Ingrid had managed to hogtie her hands into a knot that would have the world's greatest puzzlers shaking in their jigsaw-solving boots. Annoying, but it gave her an objective to work on whilst making notes of the scratchy guides that would make traversing the place much easier.

Ingrid halted at the pause, frowning sympathetically at the growl directed towards the barren room and watched him step down and forward before following behind. Now that only her thumbs and index finger were coiled, she pressed the free parts of her hands together in a nervous fashion. The previous mention of graffiti and the bleak look of the room had threaded themselves into an idea. Not a good one, nor a bad one: just an idea.

"...So. I've been thinkin'."
Famous last words broke the silence cast down onto the room, Ingrid marching to the center and sitting herself down. Her back was straight, and her slouch was dispelled, just to prove she meant business.
"This place meant-- Means. It means a lot to you. I can see that. I don't think replicating what was here once is likely.
...But."
Ingrid paused instead of continuing, looking up at Claudius to see his thoughts on what was said so far. The best-case scenario would be he would see where she was going, and the worse-case would be him getting even sadder.
 
He craned his neck around to look at her, tipping his head a bit curiously. What would she be thinking now? He made his way to the raised part and settled down in a half-circle, watching her.

Wait... Were her fingers tied together? How had she managed that? He turned his head to the side so he could get a closer look. String? What had she been up to during their walk?
 
Ingrid traced his look, and cast her own eyes down at the string holding her hands hostage. She could feel the confusion, and instead of subjecting herself to explaining, she elected to ignore it completely and continue with her idea.

"It doesn't feel right to just...Let 'em take that sort of thing away and leave it at that. I'm not suggesting we vandalize anyone's houses in relation-- That never ends well for anyone."
The woman shuddered at the grim recollection of the consequences for such an action. Fines, mainly.
"But! I'm suggesting we...I dunno, do something about all this!"

Ingrid would have thrown her hands out if she was able, but she had to settle for sitting back and nodding at one of the walls for a similar effect.
"Try and make something new out of a bad situation. Or...Something along those lines. I don't have glass:
but I have paint."
Or, more specifically, she knew where to get it without paying.
 
He looked around the room. This room had been his... well, "salvation" sounded rather melodramatic, but it was true. It had given him a purpose during the early days when he had been so lost, so desperate. There had been days when he had lain in the driest part of the sewer he could find and wondered if there was any point to continuing his existance. It was not that he necessarily wanted to die, but there did not seem to be much of a future.

Then he had found this room.

He'd spent the night here, as this was the first truly clean (ish) and dry spot he'd found. Then the next morning, he'd woken to see the morning light catching on a couple of broken bottles near the grate and casting rainbows of light on the walls. That was when he'd started seeing the light, as it were. He'd started by collecting bottles and laying them here where the light could find them. Then he'd found how to make his own make-shift glue that was more of a white paper mache paste than anything else, and begun sticking up the pieces he'd found. And, little by little, his own cathedral had grown up around him.

He looked down at Ingrid. It hurt to see his work gone, but he did not need it anymore. Not really. Yet, perhaps he should agree. Perhaps Ingrid was the one who needed a "cathedral of light" now. He could give her that. She would never take it if he presented it that way, but if she thought it was for him...

He grunted in agreement and tapped his tail lightly.
 
Ingrid considered every reaction with careful analysis. It was hard to read what he was thinking when covered in scales, but she liked to think she knew better than the average person. From her perspective, this was likely one of the only nice things he had down here. A coping mechanism. Except Ingrid was so sure he still needed it based on the immediate reaction to losing it, that she was despr-- No, determined to help.

Stability of those kinds of things were usually breaking points for her. To deal with everything else changing so fast, she needed some things to stay the same. He must feel that way too, right? It was a normal thing to feel?

"Please, please- Try to contain your excitement."
Ingrid responded with a mock hush, her sarcastic tone thrown off by the growing smile she was building up.
"I promise though, we can make it look nice! I'm not an artist, but if it looks awful, just call it fancy. A lot of priceless works of art look like contents of a kicked over trash can."

Dismissing with a hand wave seemed to be the final strain for the pesky string, and with a quiet snap, Ingrid felt the quickfire burn of freedom. Along with a minuscule rope burn on her thumb
"Ow...But- You get my point, right? On how sorting the place can be good?"
 
Claudius stepped closer to her and lowered his head. He closed his eyes and pressed his muzzle into her chest, purring a deep rumble that vibrated the floor and her body as he pushed against her, careful not to let his horns or spines get to close. She understood. She understood what it meant to him in a way he doubted anyone else would have. She did not yet understand that she had replaced his need for this room, but that was okay. This room would go from being his room to being their room once they worked on it together. He wished he could speak to tell her, but then again, even if he had a voice, he did not think he had words.
 
"It'll take some work. Maybe some shoddy stencils if we're feeling like artists."
Ingrid admitted begrudgingly, clicking her tongue a few times with muttered musings. She didn't know how to paint many things. Not many at all. In fact, her artistic skills were limited to just once type of object, and that was only due to so many years being fascinated with them. Would Claudius appreciate walls decorated with flowers? Actually-- He probably would. He seemed like the guy to enjoy nice things, and it wasn't like he'd be judged for it.

Before she could get too engrossed in her methods and madness, Ingrid felt a press to her chest: only just now noticing he'd moved to give her a dragon-esque embrace. It took a few moments to click, but once it did the act was returned with a clumsy but careful hug around his muzzle, resting her head atop his own.
"Don't worry about it, Claud. I'll make it better. Least I could do, y'know? Not to say I wouldn't anyway. I would, I just meant--
.....
You know what I mean."
It was a mystery whether she didn't have the words, or felt like she didn't need to set off another long-winded tangent, but either conclusion led to a content moment of silence from her.
 
Claudius nuzzled her gently, taking care not to knock her over. Then he pulled back and looked around. What kind of art could they create? He wasn't certain how well he could wield a paintbrush in his condition, and he didn't think he could get far working on it just one day a week... but he'd spent a lot longer on the original.

He looked down at Ingrid and gave her a little nudge with his tail. Then he padded over to the wall and slowly reared up, balancing on his haunches in a sitting position as he reached out a claw and tapped it on the wall. What would she want to put on the walls?
 
Melodramatic talk out of the way, Ingrid pushed herself onto her feet and walked over to the same wall. It wasn't exactly a small canvas, so there wasn't any need for intense precision, but they couldn't just throw whatever onto the walls. Hands on hips and brows furrowed, she looked the wall up and down to try and prompt some inspiration. Motivation. Whatever artists had that gave them their creative vision.

"You'd think it would come easy, with the amount of stuff already lining the streets. But, I dunno...I didn't really pay attention in art classes, and it ain't a hobby, but I studied flowers 'dn all that jazz for a while. We could do some of those. Along with....Other things. I'm not sure."
Ingrid looked over to check for his thoughts on the situation, and to see what he had to 'say'.
 
Claudius grunted in agreement and reached up. Slowly and carefully, he began etching the shape of a flower into the wall. He was careful not to gouge too deep, but the outline was clear. Flakes of concrete fell away as the scraping noise echoed, then faded away as he dropped down to all fours to survey his work.

It was a giant flower. It looked like a child's drawing, simplistic and happy with misshapen oval petals and a single leaf on the stem. All that was need were a few curly clouds and a sun drawn in the corner of tha paper.

He turned his amber eyes to Ingrid, asking what she thought of the flower that was nearly as tall as she was. Did she like it? He knew it was horribly simple, but he was so proud of his accomplishment! He hadn't tried to draw anything in ages! That child-like gleam of delight and hope glinted in his eyes as his tail tapped lightly on the floor.
 
If anything, she should be impressed. Co-ordination couldn't be easy when you're that big. And a quadruped. And cooped up down in the sewers for forever with nothing but whatever shit people let roll down the drains. Ingrid didn't have it in her dead heart to give him grief about how flowers didn't always look like that, but she wasn't about to be ingenuine.

"This looks like a buttercup. You can tell by the petals. It's a cute flower."
Okay, maybe not a buttercup- But it wasn't like he would know the difference. Ingrid gave an approving nod, and gave a thumbs up with a grin.
"And marking the walls might not be a bad idea either. If we make some light sketches.."
A finger traced a circle over the rough brick of the wall, letting Ingrid picture whatever may be happening in her head.

"We won't have to worry about messing up! Yeah...This could actually turn out pretty good!"
There it was. Artistic muse. She mirrored the excitement, turning to Claudius and placing her hand flat on the wall.
"This'll turn out good. I can feel it."
 
At her last statement, Claudius erupted in a cacophony of purring. Yes! He was so excited! He actually wiggled a little, for once losing an edge of his normally perfect decorum. He half-romped over to Ingrid and nuzzled her shoulder gently in thanks, his rumbling purr echoing in the rounded room.

A small bt of her shirt caught on a scale, reminding him of his place. Right.

If a dragon could clear his throat, he would have. Instead, he shuffled his front claws a bit and backed away to give Ingrid room. He shook himself then straightened his neck, looking over walls critically. Yes. This was going to be beautiful. He walked over to another portion of wall, his crumpled wings rustling a bit as he rearranged the folds. Hmm, yes, a flower there, and... a tree! Yes, he wanted a tree here. Clumsily, he started trying to trace out the elements of a tree, stopping multiple times as he tried to remember the details. Trees would not have straight edges, would they? No, they had nobbles and... things.
 
The sensation of her body tensing made Ingrid flinch, especially when a small tear on her shirt became apparent after a quick examination. Sudden contact always made her uneasy at best, or furious at worst. It was lucky it was Claudius: he was likely the only one she'd let get away with it.
And...It was nice, in a way. He let himself get excited enough to act on impulse, and do that happy wiggle she'd seen dogs do on the internet. It made her feel happy, and fuzzy inside-- Granted, that could have been the purring echoing off the walls.

It was equally heartwarming watching him seemingly plan out what could go where, tracing out a...Another flower? A building? From where she was standing, Ingrid tilted her head to the side to try and figure out what was being made, only figuring it out when all other possible candidates were ruled out. A tree!
Maybe it would be a good idea to get some reference pictures printed? Not to discredit his memory, or artistic ability, but it could use refreshing.

"You seem to have a pretty good idea of where you want to put things. Would you want some pictures? Just to get an idea of...Branch placement, and details like that?"
 
Claudius stepped back and tipped his head as he tried to examine his tree. Hmm... it did not look right. He wasn't sure what was wrong with it, exactly, just that it was wrong. Maybe it had been too long since he'd looked at a tree. He could have gone out to find one on Fridays, but he'd always been so busy trying to get what was needed and leave...

He turned to Ingrid and chuffed softly in agreement. Yes, pictures would help. Maybe he could put pictures where he wanted the paintings to go? As ideas? He indicated the flower with one claw and gave her a hopeful look. Would she bring him flower pictures, as well?
 
"Flowers, too. Don't worry big guy, I'll find a bunch of pictures for ya."
She hoped she could, at least. She didn't have a phone, or any other sort of portable device she could save pictures onto (her laptop did NOT count, that thing never leaves her room). Her settled idea was printing, and even though colored ink costed extra...She'd pay. He deserved a few decent references. If she wanted to be really extra, she could buy flowers...But visiting the local floristry now would be far too awkward.

Ingrid examined the walls he was marking with present but wavering interest. Naturally, her eyes drifted upward to the ceiling-- Or rather the big grate that was where the ceiling should be.
"Do you want me to bring all the stuff tomorrow? No one comes down here, so if it's not finished we can just leave everything in a corner."
 
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