Survival Of The Fittest

Ariana blinked at Tirzah, still trying to comprehend the bizarre manner that this girl's mind seemed to operate. She'd taken Ariana literally - which in itself, had knocked her for a loop. As she moved to clean up a wayward spill on the other side of the room, she said nothing, still trying to process this whole conversation in her head. Why should she? Why should she think about what she was going to do? That was a thing called impulse control. Ariana knew that she had a bit of an impulsive streak within herself, but this... this was on a whole other level. It was nice to hear that she hadn't meant anything malicious by it, but the whole thing still struck her funny. As a byproduct, she let out a chuckle, which probably surprised her as much as it did Tirzah.

"I was," she trailed off, trying to even recall what her own thought process had been leading up to the incident, "just taking the most direct route to solve my problem."

Using a rag to scrub up a particularly vile shade of orange, Ariana decided to drop that line of questioning altogether. As she furiously scrubbed at the paint spot on the floor, she didn't say anything more. Tirzah obviously was one of those artsy-fartsy types that spent all day in the art rooms. Ariana was - to put it mildly - a bit of an outsider in these parts, and this had been a whim of an exercise that had gone horribly wrong. She generally operated on logic and facts, and the abstract musings of the girl's mind weren't likely some that she was going to understand anytime soon.

Ariana let her shoulders sag as she was satisfied with her work on the orange spot. Her temper had subsided, replaced with the insatiable urge to get this cleaned up and get the fuck out of there. Clean or not, there would likely be hell to pay later on. Not wanting to be impolite, she looked up at Tirzah and extended an olive branch.

"What were you photographing in the park that didn't turn out? It's a nice enough day for it, I would think?"

Photography wasn't an area she possessed nearly any knowledge in, but it had been a nice, sunny day, and Ariana would have assumed that it should have boded well for taking pictures. Apparently, it hadn't.

Tirzah pushed around the clean rags with her feet picking up the last few streaks of color on the floor.

"That makes sense, I guess I might have done the same thing. Maybe not. I might have tried it and then quit."

She bent down and pushed the rag with her hands, running forward and collecting the pigment. Tirzah then stood up and tossed them back into the sink. It wasn't an impeccable job, but it was good enough.

"It's nice yeah. But I think just landscapes are boring. Have you ever been to the photo entries tent of the county fair? Like 75% of the pictures that get submitted are close ups of flowers with a shallow depth of field. It's such Hallmark trash. The other 20% is landscapes. I like to take pictures of people. There weren't many around though and they weren't doing anything interesting."

She wiped her forehead, still covered fairly thoroughly in paint. Tirzah went to her camera and cycled through the photos she'd just taken.

"But see, these are something you couldn't see everyday," she said, thrusting the back of the camera at Ariana with a small image of herself looking dazed in the paint. She put the camera back around her neck, picked up her bag and waved as she left the room.

"I have to go. Thanks and see ya!"

((Tirzah Foss continued elsewhere))

Ariana listened with her defeated posture still well in hand. At the very least, her scatterbrained assailant made an acceptable ally for cleaning up paint, and the worst of the mess was off the floor. While it would still likely take the school custodians some time to get the remainder of the paint out, that was a bridge she'd only cross later if absolutely necessary. Maybe there were cameras in the art rooms, maybe there weren't - even still, there shouldn't have been any recourse from a cleaned-up paint spill.

As Tirzah went on, eliciting an unexpected chuckle from Ariana at her description of most landscape art as 'Hallmark trash', she could feel her energy level seeping out of her, every moment she stood here. The adrenaline rush of falling from the shelf was gone, in its place the uncontrollable urge to jump in the nearest body of water. She needed a shower, badly. Nodding to the girl's assessment of country fair art - more to be polite than for any actual agreement, she was taken aback as the small display screen of the camera was thrust in her direction.

"Oh... oh wow."

There she was, laying on the floor, looking dazed and covered in an array of colours. Part of her was still a little embarrassed, but another small part of her wondered if it couldn't serve as a neat Instagram profile photo or something. If there could be any solace out of all this mess, maybe that was it.

As she opened her mouth to reply, Tirzah thanked her for her time and as quickly as she'd appeared, was gone. Again alone in the art room, Ariana still stared at the door for a moment. Something nagged at her, and she held a finger up and frowned as she did some mental mathematics.

"Wait, seventy-five plus..."

Shaking her head, she lowered her hand and waved the thought away. Tirzah Foss was a bizarre enigma, wrapped in a riddle, and no amount of thinking her over would probably give any answers that were satisfactory. Some people's minds just weren't for others to comprehend. Grabbing her (thankfully unpainted) knapsack from the corner of the room. Giving the room a last once-over, she nodded to herself, and slipped out the door. It was time to get home and see if any of these clothes were still redeemable. The walk home covered in paint was bound to be a joy.

What a weird afternoon.

((Ariana Moretti continued at In Vino Veritas))