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“Carl is such a talent, isn't he?”

You admired the grand canvas that sat leaning against the wall, captivated by the designs upon it. The way he saw the world was fascinating.

You wished you had the same talent for art that he did. It was truly something special.

Markus too, was intrigued. As an android, he could not personally relate to this kind of thing by default. Art was...a little complicated, after all. It wasn't as simple as picking up a brush.

Carl had explained it to him though. To avoid making a copy of the world. To interpret it...to build something new from it. That seemed to be the gist, and Markus was certainly interested.

When he initially tried his hand at the easel, he had failed to capture what Carl had been hoping for. At first anyway. It was only with a little encouragement that he had been able to see...

“Yes, he's very talented...” the tall, tan skinned fellow walked up by your side, his differently hued eyes looking down at you. You were an android too, but built smaller. However, your capacity for learning was hardly tarnished by that.

He wanted you to learn it too. He had brought you away from your housework and into this recreation room so that he could show you. Markus was ever so curious about what was inside your own mind, just waiting to be realized somehow. If he, an RK200, could do it, then a more advanced model like yourself should certainly be able to.

“Why don't you try?” he suddenly asked you, and you paused, before looking up at him.

“Why don't I try what?”

“Painting.” he looked enthused, and he gestured to the smaller easel on standby, before walking over to it and lifting up a blank canvas, “Come on, it's worth it.”

Now this...was something you struggled to process. Your mind worked overtime, the little circle on your temple flashing and flickering as it tried to figure out how that would be possible. When you walked over to Markus he handed you a brush, and you glanced down at it, before looking up at him again.

“You want me to print something on the canvas?”

'Print'. He supposed that was what he had initially done too. Taken some kind of internal photograph and transferred it onto the material before him. However, he knew now that it wasn't the right strategy after all.

“Just try it.”

He encouraged you anyway, wondering if you might do the same thing that he did. Sure enough, that was exactly what happened. You automatically picked a reference in the room, a glass vase with some slightly withered lilies in it, and painted that perfectly. It was uncanny...but it missed the point.

“That's very good.” Markus stepped up behind you as you prepared to set the brush and palette down, only to catch your hands before you could. It was unexpected, and once again, you got a weird feeling.

“But you need to try again.”

His insistence was confusing. You turned your head enough to be able to look around and up at him.

“What's wrong with it Markus?”

He picked up a new canvas to replace the one you'd painted on, setting that flawless work aside in favour of a clean slate.

“It's too perfect. It's like a photograph. Carl, he explained this to me. He told me that I needed to imagine something myself, not just copy whatever I see before me.”

His hands rested lightly on your shoulders once he was sure you were holding the tools needed, and you could feel his chest against your back.

“I'm not capable of doing that--”

“You are.”

His voice spoke softly, and suddenly those same hands lifted and covered your eyes. Initially you tried to move away but he held you there:

“Now paint. Paint whatever you imagine.”

What I imagine...

What I imagine? I don't imagine anything...

...Do I?

Your hand found itself stretching out anyway, the brush head pressing to the new canvas. Dabbing at the colors now and then, you let your motions take control, painting away like a visual stream of consciousness. Behind you, Markus watched with increasing awe.

Could it really be...?

Eventually your artificial eyes opened again, and you simply stared. You were more shocked than him. It was shock, wasn't it?

You were certainly feeling something strong, as you found yourself being faced with a meaningful image. A face like your own, but painted as if it were fire.

“[Y/N]...I knew you would be able to do it too. Isn't that amazing?” Markus smiled and looked down at you as you turned around to face him.

“I don't really know what to say. I didn't even know I could do that sort of thing.” you confessed. “I wasn't aware that it was a part of my programming.”

“But I don't think that it is. I don't know how to explain it.” Markus spoke, “I just...think it must be something beyond that. Didn't it feel that way when you painted? Like you weren't even really here?”

His eyes cast down your body. What a pretty shell, but he was more intrigued by whatever lay inside. If he was really onto something here, then it was possible indeed that there was something more to the both of you than you perhaps even realized.

He wanted to know more about that. He wanted you to know more too.

While you were gazing up at him, trying to process his words, he noticed there was a red splatter on your cheek. At first, he was alert, thinking it was blood. But then he quickly realized that it was paint that must have come from the canvas.

Androids bled blue anyway.

His hand came down, his thumb gently wiping it away, but he let his palm rest against your skin. You didn't reject it either.

Together, the two of you stood.

Stood...and wondered.

Skin by Quiless