SymphonianBookworm

“You- I- what?” Aria asks, momentarily confused. “Are you… Did you not have money? At some point?” She looks, for a moment, as though a million thoughts are running through her head, before it clears, her eyes crystallizing before meeting Jock’s. “Would you mind explaining?”

Aria’s expression darkens. “You did?”

“How dare you presume that I kid myself. Only I can tell that,” she replies with a grin. However, her smile falls into seriousness. “The reason I’m here—or at least, people like me are here—is because when people like you say they wish they never met themselves, we say that it doesn’t matter because we are glad that we met you. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned—I mean, I’ve learned more than one thing, but if—it’s that more often then not, people will hold you back or are just wrong. Don’t listen to them.” She pauses for a moment, her eyes focusing on his cheek. “There’s paint on your face…” Aria says, reaching up before pausing. “Do you mind if I-“

When he smiles, Aria beams back at him, clapping her hands together. “Yes! It’s so rare and so nice when someone listens to me. And it’s everyone else’s loss for not being around you. I mean, I’m certainly happier for knowing you.”

Aria rolls her eyes jokingly. “Ah yes, I hypothetically want to be around your artwork because it’s nice to have conversations with. Artwork is very helpful when trying to socialize.” Then she smiles once more. “Also, as a side note. I think smiling doesn’t really mean admitting weakness. It means admitting that you can be happy, which in times of war hurts your enemies the most. So therefore, if you were trying to harm me, smiling is most definitely the way to do it.”

Aria grinned at him. Damn. "I despise it when people downplay their work by comparing it to something else. Even if your other works are spectacular! Brilliant! That does not make this piece any less magnificent." She placed her hands on her hips. "And also. If you even hypothetically wanted to show someone hypothetically more of your hypothetical artwork. Just putting it out there that hypothetically there might be someone who would be hypothetically willing to see it." She paused. "I should stop saying hypothetical." She paused again. "It wasn't hypothetical. I want to see more of your artwork. Not that you have to show me. But. I do."

Aria. Was stunned. She looked at the painting. Than at Jock. Then at the painting. Then him again. Her voice was a soft murmur. “I didn’t think… I suppose I should’ve known… I…” And then she smiled, too. Not the usual smiles she gave, plastered onto her face in hopes that they might make her happier. No, this was a smile caused by happiness. By witnessing something… beautiful. Art. Aria tentatively reached out a hand to the painting as if to touch it, before withdrawing. “I… I love it.”

Aria looked at him, quite seriously. "Yes, I do."

Aria nodded, mock-seriously. "A good choice indeed, young soul. But only the truly wise choose the color purple. And not just any purple. The light purple. Lilac, one might say. The soft color of sleep, bound by a tantalizing mixture of seductive darkness and shimmering light, blended into a combination of ferocity and calmness." She paused. "Purple is my favorite color. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Well, if we never did the things we were bad at, we'd never get good at them. I mean, look at you! Do you really think-" Aria visibly swallowed down the next words. "I'm trying not to be insulting. Which is something I rarely do. You're welcome." She sat down (ungracefully, as one is when wearing a flight suit). "But what I said still stands. Some people have natural talent, some don't, but no one is incredible at something they've never done, or at least haven't practiced. The only price getting better at something is the pain it puts you through and the pain it puts others through. And I don't care about my pain or yours, so. Looks like I'l be improving by conversational skills today! What's your favorite color?"

"That's what people tell me when I insult them," Aria replied with a straight face. "Yep, some very colorful things. Hopefully the paint won't have as much negative connotation." There was a pause. "Fine. I know I'm not good at making conversation when I'm not being mean."

"I came to make fun of you, but it feels like you're doing that enough in your head!" Aria replied brightly---too brightly---as she examined the paint cans. She stepped back, groaning. "Look, if you're not going to be rude to me this isn't as much fun." She sighed. "What are you painting?" Aria asked with a very obvious subject change.

Aria blinked. She opened her mouth to say something, before closing it once more. She could only watch as Nova walked away. She pressed her lips together. "I've always been bad at this part," she murmured to herself, her brow furrowing. She turned back to Jock. "Did you make her cry?"

After Aria docked her ship, she stepped out of her cockpit, taking off her helmet and letting her hair fall from the tight bun she had placed it in. It fell at about her waist. There was something in her smile—and she was always smiling—that spoke measures about her. The curve of her lips shouted, I know I am pretty! You cannot tell me otherwise. And she was pretty, though not for her skin, nor her hair—it was her eyes, alight with mirth! Dancing to an unspoken tune no one else seemed to hear. Her eyes, made of liquid ivory and glass, reflective and see-through and strange and lovely all at once. She was also quite bored, so she made her way to the one place she could get a laugh out of: Jock. She found him talking---or rather, arguing---with another person. She made sure to smile widely as she approached them. "How are you both doing on this wonderful day?"

Aria laughed. "Very true. Anyway, if it's all right, I think I"m going to head back inside. I'm tired out of my mind." She headed back to the base.

Also, I really want to make Aria fall head-over-heels, madly in love, and then have her heart-broken in some way. So if anyone wants to be her heart-breaker. Please feel free to PM me. >:}

Aria laughed. "I've found one! I've found one with a sense of humor! I never thought the day would come." She paused. "Though, I would recommend not taking that tone with Lord. He is our flightleader. You could be using that snark against Jock!"

Aria positioned her Poco next to Lord and Junior. "What techniques will we be doing?"

"Any orders?" Aria asked, lazily maneuvering her ship to better have a view of the retreating Phantom crew.

Aria connected to Jock’s comm, hoping to distract him from his pursuit of her flightleader. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you choose your callsign as Jock? It’s just interesting to me. Not everyone likes to admit their lack of intelligence so openly.”

Aria watched everyone else, knowing that they were all having revelations in their cockpits. There was something about silence—the sort of silence you found when you were alone in the wide, wide sky!—that made you fill it with the recesses of your soul. She watched them, and instead of her exuberant grin or her laughter, a small, small smile drifted across her face. This was what she wanted. She wanted to watch the mechanisms of the universe at odds with each other, humans against each other and against the unstoppable, infallible, falling meteors. She wanted to watch what people did when they didn’t know what to do. What people did when they could do anything at all. She wanted to watch them. There was a beauty to it all! The spinning ships, which could be stars if you were far enough away. It was only a matter of perspective. Perspective. Of course, no flight crew was better, for the term better is subjective. It has only the meaning each individual grants it. But if you ignore terms like this, their purpose being to categorize and define people, you got not the dreams but the reality. The reality of the world! Harsh and cruel and cold and glittering. Beautiful. Something worth dying for. She lived for these moments. The moments to die for. Here, in the vast sky, too big for her to even try to comprehend, pressing and empowering and blanketing and propelling, she smiled.