[dated to November 29]

[poison_lipstick]

Calligraphy was something that had always interested Saffron. It was a part of the Chinese culture, integrated into the culture of her world back home, the culture of the Alliance. For all that she was fluent in speaking and reading the language, she didn't get much practice in writing it, though she was familiar. Calligraphy, though, wasn't just

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[patration]

While it was pretty clear from the first day he spent on the island that its residents had no small interest in different ages and cultures, still, Zhuge had been rather surprised when he finally received a request for a personal lesson or two. He'd offered up his skills to one of the auctions held some months ago, but to see that Helen remembered this particular talent of his was touching in its own way, and so he was all too happy to oblige her request. Calligraphy combined a great deal of arts that were important to those in his time, the art of injecting emotion and beauty into every single stroke, combined with the art of crafting poetry to suit the style. To be a good calligrapher, one had to be capable of all of these things.

Hopefully, he'd be able to pass that skill on.

The pigeons immediately began to chirp as soon as the knock sounded, soft cooing noises as they shifted around on the windowsill. With a smile, Zhuge opened the front door and held it open for Helen. "Good afternoon, Miss Helen," he said, stepping aside to reveal a very tidy hut, if sparsely furnished. "Please, come in."

[poison_lipstick]

"Good afternoon," Saffron replied with a warm smile as she made her way inside and took what appeared to be a cursory glance around. Her gaze fell on Zhuge's pigeons, which made her smile deepen. There was something about a man who had creatures he cared so lovingly for that was just terrible sweet to her.

"I've been looking forward to starting our lessons," she said, looking back over at him.

[patration]

He had set out a low table on top of a bamboo mat, as well as a few pillows around in case Helen preferred a little more of a cushion while sitting, but on the whole the hut was rather sparse. The few decorations laying about were all made of bamboo, less because he cared so deeply for the material, and instead because it was plentiful, and had been easier to work on that day he'd gotten to enjoy manipulating the material at will. With the door to his bedroom closed, he busied himself in the common room, a few tools off to the side. Most importantly, there was a stove and a small tea kettle, borrowed from the Compound, heating away.

"Yes, me too," he nodded, waving his arm for her to sit, their places marked by two piles of parchment and a single set of brushes, by which two inkwells sat. The brushes were constructed of bamboo and horse hair, as close to what Zhuge was accustomed to as he could manage, but he felt slightly more regretful about the ink- he'd improvised as well as he could, but the natural pigments of certain fruits and barks couldn't compare to the oils he'd grown used to. "Do you have experience in calligraphy? In English?"