[1126 words]
Florian practices recognizing his emotions, as Aster practices their painting.
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"How are you feeling?" The question should be expected at this point, Aster purposefully asked it multiple times a day after all, but it caught Florian off guard every time.
He pauses, wanting to provide a genuine answer, as difficult as that could be. Closing his eyes, he does a quick mental examination of each part of his body. Physical sensations, that's always easier to recognize, he can find the emotion that way. The emotion is currently kept in his hands and his neck, in the way he rests a hand on the hilt of his sword, in the way he repeatedly turns his head to look left, then right.
"Nervous?" Ah, that sounded like a guess. "Nervous," he repeats, this time making his voice sound sure. Yes, he was doing this right, he was accomplishing the task they had given him.
"And?" A playful grin is on their face as they move their brush across the canvas in a swift arc. They raise an eyebrow at him, awaiting his reaction.
And? 'And' was never a part of this before. 'How do you know' and 'why' had both been asked before, an additional layer of difficulty on the assignment, but ones that would be trivial currently. He knew he was nervous because he felt tense, and he felt nervous because Aster was painting out in the open. Sure, he had made sure that no one else would be in the garden, closed it to the public... But that didn't make this whole process less nerve wracking.
"Flor-i-an." They separate each syllable of his name, the way they do whenever they can see him getting lost in his thoughts.
"I don't understand the question. I told you how I am feeling already."
"You're absolutely, completely, one-hundred percent nervous? No other feelings bouncing around at all?" Aster set down their paintbrush for a moment, peeking out from behind the canvas at Florian's face.
"...I told you the emotion I am feeling," Florian repeats, letting out a sigh. "That was our agreement, yes? I tell you the emotion I am feeling. I am not going to arbitrarily list out another one."
Aster laughs at that, but Florian really isn't sure why. "Ah yes, our contractual agreement," they mumble through giggles. "Alright, hold on."
They walk out from behind the canvas fully now, holding several small bottles of paint. They extend their arm, showing off the bottle of golden paint they are holding. Florian stares at it for a moment, noting that there are dried bits of the color flaking around the lid.
"Okay, so, this is happy."
"Can we perhaps make a different color happiness?" Florian squints disapprovingly at the golden hue, matching his eyes perfectly. Aster had to have done that intentionally. Why must they call attention to his eyes so often? It didn't seem mocking, but he couldn't imagine another reason.
"Absolutely not, mister! Yellow's my favorite and you know that!" They gesture at him with the paint bottle, shaking it like a finger wag. "So, this is happy, and this one is sad." They hold up a blue paint bottle with all the pride that one would normally hold up a sword.
"Where are you going with this?"
"Gimmie a second!" Aster grabs their wooden palette, hooking it around their thumb as they squeeze a small glob of each color down on to it. They reach out and grab their brush, swirling it around in the two colors in a little figure eight motion. "Okay! What's this?"
Florian tilts his head like a bird, looking at the little smear of color across the wood. "...Green."
"No- well, yes it's green, but, they're emotions! We mixed happy and sad!"
"Ah, then it is nothing." Florian nods. He didn't understand the reason for this demonstration, but he was at least positive that he had understood it. "They cancel each other out."
Aster stares at him for a moment, as if gauging if he was serious. Ah, was he wrong then? They blink slowly, and then shake their head, their halo moving ever so slightly above them. "...Mm. We'll work on it, okay? But, just think about if they didn't cancel each other out. If you felt multiple things at once."
They step back behind the canvas, sticking their tongue out as they focus again on their painting. Whenever they made that expression, squinting and tilting their head, completely lost in their work... It made him feel something.
He didn't know what this feeling was, but it lived in his cheeks, and deep in his chest. A sort of fuzzy feeling, light and warm. It made the nervousness fade away, so Aster must be incorrect about feeling multiple things at once, right?
"I think I'm done."
"Ah, may I see it then?" For the last hour, he had wanted so badly to see it, to know what each of those little blobs of color could become on the canvas. But, Aster had insisted that they'd feel too nervous if someone was watching them the entire time they painted.
"Knock yourself out." They step back, gesturing with one wing in the direction of the canvas. But, it wasn't just a canvas anymore, was it? It was a painting.
Florian approaches the painting, keeping his arms folded carefully behind his back. This... This painting... Sure, as he expected, it was a painting of the rose garden, the bushes, the flowers, the carefully maintained arches, but...
Aster let out a laugh, a noise that made him jump. "Your ears! They're so red!" They cover their mouth, their glowing smile still visible between their fingers.
Florian quickly claps his hands over his pointed ears, but he can feel blood rushing to his cheeks as well. It's pointless to try and hide it. How is he supposed to control his emotions now?
The painting, he's in it. Standing right there, in the garden, one hand on his sword as he keeps watch, just as he did while Aster painted.
"So," Aster says, moving their hand away from their mouth as they grin at him, "what do you think?"
And as Florian turns to see them, the setting sun silhouetting them, their eyes shining with an emotion he couldn't identify, a bright smile lighting up the entire garden, their white feathers blowing ever so slightly in the breeze... He understands. He understands what that feeling deep in his chest is, and he understands how someone can feel so many contradictory things at once. Fear, joy, shame, and... the one he could finally put a name to, all within him simultaneously.
"...It's beautiful." But he can't bring himself to look back at the painting as he says it. He can't tear his eyes away from them.