Beneath the Large Palm (Marceline)

[Marshal Bishop]

The sun was high in the sky, birds were chirping and singing and it almost seemed as if spring had uprooted winter altogether. Marshal leaned against the largest palm tree planted in the courtyard.'1:23' he looked to his watch... He'd been waiting for a while now... 'Maybe she forgot.' it wasn't a comfortable thought, but it was better than the alternative.

He sighed lightly to himself, 'another minute... she'll come.' He watched others pass, some busy and rushed while others seemed calm and composed. Individuals, friends, and those in more... romantic relationships all passed through the courtyard on the beautiful day. The minute had passed, and Marshal knew it. He just denied that the watch, or time for that matter, had changed at all. He tried telling himself it hadn't moved from it's desired position, some 24 minutes before.

It was better than admitting he'd been stood up for an art lesson.

[Marceline Lee]

To her, the world was silent.
The bountiful sounds that often blast through the ears this time of the year were muted to Marceline, though the usual flapping of wings and gentle breeze grazed her senses, it not enough to divert her concentration away from the pictures in front of her. She thought it might be nice really, to bring something to keep her busy while waiting for Marshal to arrive. Something to keep her from drawing to the point where she had no inspiration, although she doubted she would have none with Marshal by her side.
The palm tree dug into her back, but she ignored the slight discomfort, for she was thankful that the large trunk gave her space to lean on. The thing was so round and wide, a simple wrap of her arms might only go half-way. A bittersweet smile touched her lips as she flipped slowly through the pictures of her brother and her, one of her favorites being at the lake in their hometown, right before he had begun to shut himself away. Her hair fell over her eyes, the two pig-tails failing their duty once again, as she looked towards the bag she had brought with her. It contained drawing supplies for both her and her missing friend, just begging to be used as she waited for the boy. She had lost track of time, but she knew it had been a long while since she had first sat at the base of the big palm, and she was showing signs of sadness. Had she been set up? No, he would have never done that, right? She tried to shake off the thoughts, now resting her head on the trunk of the tree, looking up into the sky, half of it covered by giant leaves. She squinted into the sunlight, trying to figure out why Marshal might not have time to be her. The bag was calling her, and she almost stretched out her hand to dig into it.
Somewhere nestled in the grass sat a tiny white fluff of swan, asleep in the warm weather. Marceline had kept her for a while longer, knowing full-well that she couldn't become attached to the little thing, but she couldn't help it. It had just grown on her. It uttered a cute little honk as it stirred, soon swiftly asleep again.

[Marshal Bishop]

He shifted himself, realizing how bad his posture had gotten after waiting for Marceline for almost a half hour. At this point it would become clear that Marceline was not coming: that she had either forgotten about their plans entirely or decided to ditch him for some unknown reason. But he didn't move from his spot. He was a fool for waiting and he knew it.

Something there that kept him waiting. He thought he knew what that was, but he was unwilling to admit or agree with such a conclusion. At least not at this point. 'It's just an art lesson. It's just an art lesson' he repeated it to himself over and over. The phrase was comforting for a time, before it took on a completely different meaning. As if it was not only an art lesson for himself but for her as well.

"Damn." he audibly spoke. That wasn't at all what he wanted. He sat there, still. In an attempt to push aside such thoughts, he closed his eyes and listened to the surrounding noise. He swore he could hear the familiar scratch of a pencil against paper and a swan, honking lightly as if it were miniaturized. He couldn't help but think, 'this is what going mad feels like.'

He had no idea that Marceline was actually drawing in her notebook and the swan was there, lightly honking as it had before. He didn't know that she was in a similar position as he was, on the other side of the thick trunk. He stayed completly oblivious to this fact, trying to think happy thoughts, like the beach, and Southside, and...

Meatloaf?

Meatloaf wasn't as much a happy thought as much as it was a sudden craving.

[Marceline Lee]

The sun denied to hide behind the wide green leaves of the palm tree, denying any sort of protection from the bright rays of light that were currently starting to hurt Marceline's green eyes.

She had succumbed to the desire, the thin pieces of paper had somehow made themselves welcome on her lap, her pencil firmly grasped in her hand. She tore her gaze away from the sky, deciding it would harm her if she stared into it any longer. She looked down at the paper, knowing it might as well be best to draw a few things out, just to get started so that she didn't teach Marshal incorrectly. Her mind swan with worries of what might have happened to him, pencil drifting around aimlessly on the paper. She wasn't even paying attention to the drawing at this point, her mind was completely and utterly focused on thoughts of Marshal. The time was just floating by her like it was nothing more then a cloud, a simple thing really. Unlike clouds, it was hard to look at it without breathing out a small sigh of defeat. It was hard to believe, that she had been set up for an art lesson. After she had thought... She shook her head to clear away any ideas connected to what passed through her mind moments before, a slight blush painted onto her cheeks. She was almost certain it would be a simple art lesson, nothing more, nothing less.

She sat in silence once again, not only the silence that surrounded her body, but the one inside her mind. Her long slender hands that had already stopped drawing begun again, this time expertly creating the outline of a bird she had just recently learned of: An Oriole. It wasn't too much harm to just create one right now, hmm? Her eyes brightened as she considered trying out a new trick she had found along with her power. If she was to focus on a certain task or base as she drew the bird, it would almost always have a slight urge to do so. For example, when she had drawn Mia, she had created her as to break up a fight by annoyance or noise. The idea seemed like it would work, why not give it a go? She tried picturing Marshal the best she could, drawing n little feathers and eyes. His brown eyes bore into the back of her eyes as she brought up the memories of their walk back to the dorms that one night.

Carry a message for me, little one. She finished shading what would soon be the dull red of it's fluffy stomach, and the black and whites of it's wings. I wonder where Marshal is...? With a few more flicks of the pencil, the paper had already crumpled up into the shape of a small bird. Smiling, she reached out to pet it's shiny black head, her head tilted slightly and her eyes closed. "There you go." She tried to whisper, not wanting to disturb any other people in the courtyard. It quickly flew out of her hands, making a few rounds around the trees surrounding the large palm Marceline sat one. Once it was out of sight, she returned to staring at a blank piece of paper.

Little did she know that the bird had already fluttered down to the other side of the tree, where Marshal had been sitting this entire time. It softly tried to land on his shoulder, letting out a little peep.

[Marshal Bishop]

Marshal's stomach rumbled. 'Ok, don't think of meatloaf. You gotta wait for Marcy.' It was then that he realized he wasn't supposed to be thinking about her. 'Maybe you should nap.'

Marshal leaned his head back against the palm, sticking his hands in his pockets. His fingertips grazed the soft threads of Marceline's feather. He sighed withdrawing his hand. 'It's not worth thinking over,' he thought, 'chances are...' His thought was cut off, manually. 'Just get up and walk away.' He didn't move. 'Get up and walk away.' He repeated to himself, the muscles tensed but didn't dare to move. He tried it one last time, struggling with himself,'Marshal... just leave.' His muscles relaxed. He exhaled, beginning to do so.

It was then that a little red oriole found Marshal. It was a pesky little thing, chirping up a storm in Marshal's ear. He swatted at it in his stupor. "Get" he commanded, walking away quicker. The bird swooped in a second time, hovering above Marshal's head, still chirping away, almost as if speaking. "Get!" He repeated, aggravated even more. The bird continued, relentlessly unchanged in tone and action. Marshal turned around, as if to shoo the creature off.

But he didn't. He looked back to the tree to see the red headed girl looking down her sketchpad, ripped edges of a previous sheet remained. 'She was there, waiting.' He looked back to the bird. It's pencil stroked wings and feathers were artfully done. A lot of thought was put into this one. He offered it a finger to perch on. It looked at it, as if pondering on it, before flying back to Marcy. Leaving Marshal in pursuit.

[Marceline Lee]

Finally, she was comfortable. It was odd, almost as though all of her fears or worries had completely rolled away as she let her bright colored bird fly off. The thoughts of being stood up for a simple afternoon like this had been stolen away, now contained within another being. Marceline let out a relaxed sigh as she look back down at her paper, a hand twisted into the sea of red that rested atop her head. The bird would find Marshal, she was sure of it. The only fault would be that she had no idea how long it might take, or if he even was willing to follow the little thing. The sounds of birds that had been gently poking at her mind now was the only thing that the girl was interested in, straining her ears for any indication that the oriole was near. But alas, the exotic chirps of the native species were too loud to even begin singling out one. It was because of this that the irritated voice of Marshal sailed right on by. She stayed like this for a few more moments, frozen in concentration. An angry honk withdrew her from her thoughts as she looked up.

Moments ago, a certain tiny white swan had been peacefully napping within the sunlight that spread across the courtyard. It was, however, interrupted by the sudden appearance of a foot near inches away from the fluffy white feathers cuddled up to the ground. Mia, the swan of course, jumped up quickly, letting out the honk Marceline had heard. She stomped angrily after Marshal, almost as if the swan was human being.

Marceline, by this point, had looked up in order to see what was going on with her tiny companion. At the sight of her friend, her eyes widened and she let out a shy smile. He had made it! It soon faded a bit as she remembered just how long she had been waiting for him, and what might of kept him so long. She looked away quickly, directing her eyes everywhere but the young man's face, although she could feel his brown eyes staring at her as she sat in a stiff position against the tree bark. But she knew, for some reason she knew that it had been her bird that had brought him here.

And she smiled even brighter.

[Marshal Bishop]

The white feathered fowl awoke, blatantly annoyed as ever. But this time for good reason, Marshal had been late and had disturbed the bird's sleep. He had practically tripped over her unknowingly in his approach towards the large Palm.

Marceline looked up, a specific glint in her eyes shining before turning back to her pad, avoiding Marshal altogether. She bit her lip, struggling in vain to keep a smile from bursting from her lips. Marshal stood there, a foot away, glancing down at the young girl. He was wordless for a moment; what would one say to somebody who waited almost an entire prep period for an art lesson?

"I'm sorry, Marceline." It was a start. "Truly, I am." Marshal looked at her eyes, which were still turned away from him. He didn't need to mention how he was on the other side of that tree, he didn't need to let her know about the unhappy coincidence that had caused both of them heartache. All that remained was the apology...

The apology and Mia the Duck, who seemed to have other ideas. She practically harassed Marshal, pecking and honking at his legs as if to say, "where the Hell have you been!" She was flapping her wings, taking a rather offensive position for such a small creature. Marshal, ignored the abuse, feeling it was earned after walking out just a moment before.

[Marceline Lee]

The bittersweet scents n this spring day certainly did not compliment the words that came out of Marshal's mouth. It took a moment, throughout the screeching f the angry swan that had decided to further her attack on Marshal, to realize what the words meant, and when they finally did, Marceline had the strange urge to blurt out her own apologies. An odd look crossed her features, a good chance the young man hadn't seen it as her head remained pointed downwards at the blank piece of paper. At that moment, her own feelings sort of conflicted each other, her mind telling her that she should probably forgive politely and then forget any notions she ever had about the boy, but at the same time, her heart just beating with happiness that she hadn't been completely forgotten.

Although she may have just been overreacting just a tad, just thinking about being remember by one person without the memories being mean-spirited was a nice thought indeed. And so, very slowly, Marceline scooted over, in an attempt to make room for Marshal underneath the great palm, rather then speak just yet. She only then dared to look at him directly, the sun shining on her face as she fought to keep her expression neutral, but her eyes were the ones who gave away her own happiness, not without a dangerous glint of course. Who cared really? If Marceline was or wasn't allowed to be even a little bit happy? But she defiantly was on the bridge between happiness and disappointment. "Marshal..." She paused, unsure herself of what to say. "It's okay... it happens a lot." Letting out a small giggle at her little companion, she tapped her knee, loudly with her pencil, twice to get it's attention, Mia instantly turning around to look at Marceline. It was a little thing they had been working on.

Shoving the pictures she had been holding before Marshal had showed up behind her back, she waited to see if the little goose would waddle over to her, or if he would even sit down. Perhaps he had just come here to say how he had never wanted to learn, or even spend time with her. 

[Marshal Bishop]

"It happens a lot?" He stepped closer, still feeling ashamed of having almost ditched Marceline's drawing lesson. And the fact that Marceline had just hid what she was currently drawing wasn't a good sign, regardless of the accepted apology. He looked to her, studying for further signs of disapproval . . . But none showed.

The way she held herself seemed comfortable, not protective or defensive. She lovingly pet Mia the goose as her head pointed downward at a nonexistent sketchpad. She cleared a space for Marshal, just enough for him to sit next to her. She seemed acceptant of him, still uncertain about Marshal’s apology and punctuality.

It was a risky move for Marshal, but he sat down next to her, leaving an inch or two between them as he crossed one foot over the other. “I’m so sorry.” He repeated himself, not looking away from her for a second. “Is there a way I can make it up to you?” He offered, though nothing came to mind. He folded his arms, shrugging his shoulders in discomfort and worry.