Lirim seemed to perk at the mention of her supposed profession. “I was just talking about journalism with a friend of mine and my fiancé! We were talking about the morality behind their desire to “get the story out to the public” and all that entailed. It’s one of those things where some people paved the way for truth in the media and in history, while others put people in danger with their recklessness. But anyway…you asked what I do?” He shrugged. “I wrote a little serious but I just…kinda stopped, it wasn’t my calling. My obsession and my life revolves around art, painting it, fixing it, curating, all of it.” He would have blushed had he felt embarrassed, but he wasn’t. “What about you, Ms. Ronnie, you like art? You like writing so you get extra points for that for sure,” he smiled.
The trail he decided to take back to the cabin was a longer, scenic route, and there were a lot of angry roots to step over that was agitating his stitches, but this was what he had wanted to do, so with only a few groans did he make it to his cabin, no dramatic crocodile tears! Ailbe would have been proud.
It was a handsome and modest cabin, one story, a cabin that actually looked like its namesake, not what modern elitists called a cabin, with a washer and dryer and television and Jacuzzi, but the real deal, with only a gas stove to tease about.
“Sorry it’s not ridiculous or luxurious, but I sorta wanted to get away from all of that.” He nodded to his iPod as he pulled it out of his pocket. “I brought some solar panel chargers and that’s that, because Ailbe worries enough without having no daily phone call from me to make it worse,” he chuckled.
The shifter nodded in agreement at the man’s words. ”It’s true…there’s a very fine line when it comes to journalistic morals. Unfortunately, many times it’s more about a writer making a name for themselves than it is about the actual story. None of what I write is very hard-hitting, of course…but I’ve heard stories from others. I tend to stick to travel guides, gaming websites, that sort of thing. Smithsonian is probably my favorite, though; I’m always honored when they pick up one of my pieces for an issue.”
She chuckled when Lirim suggested she’d earn extra points for being an art lover. ”Well…I’ve never been very good at making it…but I do love viewing the things others create…and watching an artist work - especially when they’re really into it - it’s like honest-to-god magic. I’m also really into art history and art theory - seeing how artists are influenced by their own personal world and the world at large. For example, once I knew the backstory behind Warhol’s soup cans, I just had a whole new respect for them as works of art, y’know?”
Ronnie shook her head in protest as he apologized for the cabin. ”That’s not something you have to apologize for,” she replied with a small smile, worrying less and less about Lirim being something dangerously supernatural. ”Although, I confess, due to the nature of my…uh, job…I couldn’t live this way for long. My computer and I are attached at the hip.” She shrugged softly, not really ashamed to admit it. ”So…is this cabin yours, then? You’re not just renting it?”