Submission (#6318) Approved

Even though Anatoliy is particularly good with his paws, he’s never quite been one for making anything good. Bombs, traps, and intricate rope tying, yes, but nothing that causes joy.

As Anatoliy sits in the snow-white sand surrounded by shells and paint of various types, he thinks on the recipient of his gift. Knife lives a lavish and opulent lifestyle. Needs for nothing of value, and accept gifts with that fake, slimy smile that Anatoliy hates so much.

Will Knife enjoy something crudely made? Does he have any need for something so basic as a painting? Anatoliy lets the thoughts fester and swirl inside himself.

He picks up a maroon shade, paint smeared on the inside of a shell to keep it from getting too sandy. A canvas lays in front of him. The empty thing remains shaded by the swinging palm trees above him. It’s a beautiful day out, but Anatoliy’s mood still feels sour.

Is gift giving supposed to be this difficult? Anatoliy has never made one before, but he doesn’t think it should be so nerve wracking.
Anatoliy peers out at the ocean. It’s a calm day out, waves gently rolling up and greeting the skittering crabs and dead, bleached bark washed ashore. He doesn’t normally enjoy the sandy dunes of Palu’au, but Knife does, and Anatoliy is always willing to make concessions to give him peace of mind.

As of currently, he’s curled up on a firm beach towel, and a mountain of cushions are piled up behind and around him. A hammock swings between the two larger palm trees at his back.

Anatoliy calls his Pomu out. The inky, fluffy thing is a permanent ball of pure sunshine. When the little Pomu first appeared, Anatoliy couldn’t believe how… happy it was. It’s been a constant source of help during his mission duties. Even now, with Knife, the thing remains loyal and as bright as ever.

Today is no exception. As soon as the Pomu sees the spread of paints, brushes, and snacks, it immediately sets about touching everything with childlike enthusiasm. Anatoliy watches it play with the shells, eventually coming to a stop at the finger food. It grabs a small sandwich triangle with ham, cheese, and lettuce. Against all odds, it stuffs the entire thing in its maw and swallows in one go. Disgusting.

“Will you help me paint?” Anatoliy inquires. The Pomu tilts its head up, and nods. “It’s… for Knife. An appreciation painting. Nothing more than that,” Anatoliy adds at the suspicious glance from his Pomu. “I’m thinking something simple, since I’m not all that good at art.”

His pomu hands him a brush from his pile of supplies. With the maroon paint still in paw, Anatoliy starts laying down the groundwork for his canvas. Not quite a masterpiece, but hopefully it’ll be a legible work.

Anatoliy switches up, gathering a beige swatch from his Pomu’s crumb-filled claws. It glides on the canvas like silk. Looking around for inspiration from his surroundings, Anatoliy adds in some fluffy seagulls and a couple fallen coconuts. The hammock provides a nice splash of orange color to the otherwise natural setting. Anatoliy adds in a couple blobs of color to hopefully represent Knife and himself snuggled together on it.

A sunset starts to form in both his painting and in the real world, washing the world in soft, peachy tones. Anatoliy adds in some pinks and yellows to the horizon.

It’s not that cloudy of a day, but he adds some in anyways. Perhaps some sandy dunes could cut into the landscape of blank, beige sand? A palm tree here, some sandy brush there… the painting starts coming together in a mediocre mimicry of the beaches around him.

“Not too bad, right?” Anatoliy asks his Pomu, who’s started getting bored and has taken to trying to peel open a fallen fruit. After a second, it looks at his painting. A cheeky grin finds its way onto the white face, and he’s given a thumbs up. “Thanks, lapachka.”

A few more touches of viscous paint, and Anatoliy decides he doesn’t hate it. Which, of course, means it’s time to put the painting away and let it dry.

There are some crazy good hiding spots in the villa house Knife owns on the beach. Small, mini crevices that Knife nor the maids can fit into; places Anatoliy had found when privately scouting the villa for hiding spots… just in case.

He’s fairly certain he won’t need them the way he thought he would, but they’re certainly good for hiding contraband Knife doesn’t particularly care for. Weaponry and trap material, mostly, but he’s stashed away food and funds for emergencies as well. If the Elnin won’t be prepared for the worst, Anatoliy certainly will be.

Gathering up the painting, Anatoliy takes one last look at it. The two figures are leaning up against each other harmoniously, colors of a beach sunset swirling and curling above them.

It’ll be a good gift. Not perfect, but he knows Knife will hang it up and stare at it when he knows Anatoliy isn’t looking.

(But really, Knife should know by now that Anatoliy is always looking; watching, waiting for something catastrophic to happen.)

(And honestly,  Anatoliy should know by now that with Knife around, something bad will never happen.)

Anatoliy walks back to the cozy villa, paws sinking into the warm sand as he goes. The wooden pole door opens wordlessly as he creeps into the mini house, tucking the gift away in one of the many hiding holes.