“Ce n’est pas grave, Michelle told me that the daycare required a new touch. Something to give it the warmth it used to have. And I have so many commissions, you know?” Pal had looked away from his canvas for a moment, then occupied with an almost-complete portrait of a serene-looking Persian; the Smeargle had seen Palette’s expression, and his voice had softened considerably.
“Listen, ma petite chou, you will do fine! You have been improving rapidly lately! Just make sure you remember what I have been saying about the anatomy, and you will not fail.”
Palette had been unconvinced then, and she was even more unconvinced now that she found herself in a staring contest with the area Missy had chosen. The wall was completely monstrous; it dwarfed her by two high and ten wide at least, despite her height, and it was clear-cut that same barren white as the rest of the circular, carpeted play area. No, there was absolutely no question that something had to be done about it. She set her crate of paints down by her feet, and her easel in front of her, and hesitated before lightly unleashing her pencil on it.
But before she could really get properly started on her design, her mane was tugged hard: so hard the painter actually crashed backwards onto the floor, and hit her head. The carpet was soft, but it still hurt, and she instinctively curled into a ball, terrified.
“Hey, lady, stop that!”
Palette cracked her eyes open.
“P-PK?” she whispered.
The Merchants’ leader disappeared (as if the first time wasn’t enough), and an imperious-looking Zorua was standing over her. The markings on the Zorua’s eyes were the dark sides of two half-moons, and the little tuft of fur on top of her head — bound by a huge, iridescent bead — made an almost perfect paintbrush point, just like Palette’s had. She poked at Palette’s face like a Delcatty playing with her prey.
“What’re you doing, lying on the floor like that?” Palette’s assailant demanded. “I was just trying to ask you what you were drawing. Stop being a baby and get back to work.”
Palette was flabbergasted, but she sat up.
“I am... sorry? It was very rude of you to startle me like that!” She held her knees and stared at her assailant. “But, for your information, I’m trying to paint a mural.”
“You don’t look like you’re painting a mural. You look like you’re fooling around with a pencil!”
“Yes, well,” Palette chose her words very carefully, “looks can be deceiving. You looked like a Kecleon just then, but you weren’t really, were you? And you don’t look very cruel, but you did just interrupt an artist in the middle of creating.” The Zorua looked away.
“Yeah... whatever...” She stared back at Palette with a sudden ferocity. “You should just give up! This wall is huge, you’ll never paint all of it, and besides, us kids will mess it up in no time! You should give up, and get out of here, and leave us in peace!”
The Zorua’s tirade left her breathless. Palette leaned backward just a little bit less.
“Excuse me,” she ventured, “but, what is your name?”
“Name’s Charcoal,” the Zorua said, “and don’t you forget it, ‘cause me and my children– I mean, me and my siblings’re gonna drive you right out the door!”
“I highly doubt that, Charcoal,” said Palette. “Siblings?”
Part 2 of "inspiration" by
I used 3 colors for this picture!