Tomoyo growled. Which, if one knew Tomoyo, knew that it was something she tended not to do. She sat on a stool, easel and canvas opposite her, and strained for inspiration. Inspiration wasn't supposed to be this hard to find.
The evening sun dipped low on the horizon, casting reflections of orange, purple, and deep scarlet across the bay waters, but the violet haired heiress felt strangely unmoved. Something was different this time. Something was...missing.
Tomoyo threw her paintbrush onto the ground in disgust. She sighed, and gazed at the evening sky.
"Excuse me, young lady...I don't think that's the proper way to use this."
Tomoyo looked around in surprise, and saw an old man holding her paintbrush. A thick crop of white hair shot from his head in an almost comical manner, and squinty eyes peered past bushy eyebrows.
"Do you paint, little lady?"
Tomoyo blushed. "I...I'd like to. I just can't concentrate for some reason."
The old man smiled. "Happens to the best of us, I assure you. Maybe it might help to be around others...?"
"Other...painters?"
"Sure." The man said, extending his hand. "I run a local café for authors, painters...anyone in a creative pursuit, they can come to my café and feel at ease."
"I guess it wouldn't do to have myself all shut out here." Tomoyo surmised. "Very well, I'd be delighted to join you! Mr...?"
"Nathaniel. Pleased to meet you, Miss..."
"Tomoyo."
"Ah, I thought you looked fairly Japanese. A Japanese princess, as it were." Nathaniel smiled. "Ah, you'll have to forgive me...in my younger days, I would have gone after you with all the tenacity of a wildcat!"
"I'm sure you would have!" Tomoyo smiled. What an odd fellow. Odd, but pleasant. She hoped more people at the café would be as such.
If Tomoyo had to think of one word to describe Nathaniel's café, it would be 'cozy'. A large fireplace lined one entire wall, and small, wooden tables with vanilla colored tablecloths filled the center of the room, leaving the outer walls for artists and their set-ups. An old oak piano sat in one corner of the room, practically begging to be played.
"Please...make yourself at home, Miss Princess!" Nathaniel smiled, taking up his usual position behind the bar.
Tomoyo took a seat at one of the tables, placing her painting gear down beside her. More than a few eyes turned her way, and it took a few minutes before someone finally approached her.
"Hey...new here?" Tomoyo looked at the young man who had spoken. Sandy colored hair fell gently past aqua eyes, and a curious pair of midnight blue goggles perched on top of his head.
"You could say that...flyboy." Tomoyo returned.
The young man laughed. "Haha...flyboy? You got me all wrong, miss...I do what they do, only without the plane."
"Without a plane, you'd most certainly fall, flyboy."
"That's the general idea...I fall until the little voice in my head tells me to not kill myself, then I pull my chute."
"That's a pretty smart voice there, flyboy. Keep listening to it." Tomoyo giggled.
"I would, but sometimes the voice gets me into trouble. Like right now...it's telling me to buy you a drink, while you tell me what brought you to this little place."
Tomoyo eyed the young man inquisitively. "Go right ahead, I won't stop you." She had never met people this...different before. She had always prided herself on how well she understood and read people, but the people in this town were...something else. She wanted to know what this something else was.
The young man returned shortly thereafter. "Non-alcoholic...hope you're not offended." He smiled. "The ol' bartender doesn't want me corrupting you for some reason."
"How lovely."
"So, let's hear your story." He folded his arms and laid his head down, watching Tomoyo intently.
"There's not really much to say...you know...mysterious stranger from another country, come to run away from it all." Tomoyo giggled hollowly. As she suspected, the young man didn't believe her.
"Hah...a new life, is it then?"
"Yes...completely new."
"Well, you're bound to attract more than your fair share of attention here. Especially from people looking for...models..."
"Oh dear, I'm really not the modeling type...I prefer to be on the other side of the camera...or canvas, as it were." Tomoyo informed him, sipping at her cool drink.
"Well, I might have a friend...you seem like her type..."
"Her...type?" Tomoyo couldn't help but blush.
The young man howled with laughter. He banged the table a few times, startling Tomoyo, who looked around nervously at the stares the two of them were getting. "Shush already! What's so funny?!" She whispered fiercely.
"Haha...ahh...you'll have to ask herself if she thinks you're her type in THAT way...I meant her type of model." The young man smiled, running a hand through his hair casually. "You're a real trip, you know that? Way too serious for your own good!"
Tomoyo hmphed, folding her arms. She turned and looked away from the young man.
"Oh, come on now!" The young man leaned over the table. "I was just joking!" He got out of his chair and knelt down in front of her. "My dear..." he proclaimed, taking her hand in his, "...I do not care if there are others present. I will never be happy until you grace me with your smile once more. Please forgive any trespasses I have made; I assure you they were fully made in the fevered passion we here call 'love'".
Tomoyo couldn't help but crack a smile. "You're not funny, you know that?"
"Yes, yes I know. And I also know that I must get out of here now, before old Nathan over there accuses me of trying to take advantage of you."
"Very well...I guess I'll see you around, you seem to be the hard-to-miss type."
"As are you, miss..."
"Tomoyo."
"Ah, the beautiful name of the beautiful foreigner who has swept me off my feet!" The young man stood up, putting the goggles over his eyes. Saluting Tomoyo smartly, he added, "Devon Kyle, at your service!"
Tomoyo gave him an awkward salute of her own, and watched him bound out the café door.
"What a...peculiar fellow...so full of..." Tomoyo thought, grasping for the right word. "Life? Innocence? Happiness?" They all fit. Now, where had she found those qualities last? "...oh."
Tomoyo clenched her fists slightly. "I don't know...if she needed me, I'd know it somehow. In the meantime, I have to find my own life." Deciding to call it a day, Tomoyo picked up her bag, and went to the bar to thank Nathaniel.
"My pleasure, miss princess. And, hopefully, if that young man didn't frighten you too much, we'll see you back here again soon!"
"It's a safe bet." Tomoyo assured him. She waved slightly, and departed from the café, the bells tinkling softly on the door as it shut.
The sun was just setting as the lavender haired woman walked briskly through the evening streets. Tomoyo made a mental note of how cold it got in the evening, and reminded herself to bring a jacket next time she went out. She held her head high, and closed her eyes, feeling the wind softly tussle her hair about.
"Oh...oh dear, not again!" a far off voice cried out. Tomoyo barely heard it, but as she continued walking, it came closer and closer.
Tomoyo turned a street corner, and ran headlong into something moving very fast in the opposite direction. Papers scattered everywhere, and Tomoyo fell backwards, landing on her side.
The voice, clearly now a woman's voice, sighed. "Ouchie...this really isn't my day."