Tales Across the MultiBurst

The Poet and His Muse

In which Delta and Blindt get together for what feels like the dozenth time this month, long after that fateful and still-very-frightening night Delta spent at the DeVoy mansion. This time around, Blindt has an idea to try and see what kind of paintings his dear muse can cook up. The results are much deeper and more heartfelt than Blindt anticipated...
Also, these two are huge perfectionists and have to cope with that a bit. (Blindt x Delta, 3 months post Rise. This is, of course, the sequel to The Painter and His Muse.)

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Blindt knew in his heart of hearts that he was not a poet. It was especially evident when, at his beloved's suggestion, they wrote some poems together for fun, and Blindt's had the rhyme and reason of a four-year-old's Valentine poem- Delta's had so much more imagery, language, pacing, rhyme and finesse added into his own poem. When the bahamut Blader demanded to know Delta's secret, it was actually pretty surprising to learn that poetry and writing was Delta's hobby.

"Wha- and you left me high and dry, humiliating myself with this childish thing?!" He had blurted out, more than a little spurned at this devastating betrayal. Delta gave a sweet, goodnatured smile and shrugged.

"I mean, I think it was very lovely."

"I rhymed "roses are reds, violets are blue," Blindt huffed, pouting and scowling at his darling muse who was suddenly a lot less darling. "You're just teasing me."

"No, no, really!" The demon Blader replied, raising his palms in a defensive gesture for a moment. "It was lovely, and with some practice and a bit of learning you'll get so much better at it."

"Tell me what was so lovely about it then!"

Delta had looked taken aback, which Blindt couldn't help but feel a bit bad for. (But at this point, Delta had known he was too much of a perfectionist to take kindly to turning out something subpar, even if it was his first time attempting such a medium. He never said it to Blindt's face, but he was pretty sure that perfectionism came from Blindt getting addicted to the title of 'prodigy' and all the praise that came with it. Like a bad drug that you couldn't quit, and the awkward attempts at new mediums were bad withdrawals.)

"Well, maybe you used simple rhymes, but you also used very vivid, descriptive words. Here, let me see and I-"

"Nope." Blindt shoved the notebook paper into his coat, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"... Okay."

Blindt was still a little sore over that, and he had been using all his spare time outside Blading and painting to try and practice his writing. It was... No good, really. He just couldn't get it to sound anything like Delta's poem and it drove him nuts.
But he decided a small bit of payback would be a good remedy to the self-scorn...

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Delta could admit he felt bad for how his last visit with Blindt went. Arman and the others suggested that for the next visit, he should bring some movies or music for them to enjoy, without any competition sprouting from nowhere, and it was an idea he greatly liked.

So, he had gotten some of his favorite movies that he figured Blindt could like, nothing too serious but nothing too goofy- Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows and The Man Who Invented Christmas were a part of that selection, alongside Ratatoullie- and set off.

Like always, Devolos guided its Blader through the woods, zeroing in on Balkesh's aura until they reached the ornate, lonely mansion. Blindt came out to greet his dear muse and they chatted for a few minutes, then just before Delta could offer up the movies, Blindt made a suggestion of his own.