We'll Be Playmates and Lovers (ArtiLamb AU)

[kiddie]

Once school started, Artisan's life would be over. The consistent, excelling scores he received on his work meant he qualified for the “advanced placement program”. Basically, he'd be learning algebra in the same room his peers were learning to subtract double digits in. Artisan didn't mind the extra work, but he preferred using his free time in class to marvel at the glossy books of ancient architecture and engineering. Recess was a wonderful time for him to put those plans into action and the seven year old would duplicate everything he saw in Legos.

With a day or two of summer left, Artisan decided to make the most of it. He sat in the tree house he and his father had built, surrounded by reference books he'd taken from the library by the dozen. In the center was a toothpick model of the Parthenon, one of his most recent adoration. A toolbox was set in the corner, atop a small round table along with toys that'd been taken apart. Model cars, automaton dolls, and music box parts were scattered.

“Just two more toothpicks!” Artisan whispered. He felt himself getting excited at the idea and eagerly applied glue to the roof of his miniature Parthenon. A camera dangled around his neck, the strap slightly tangled in his long, brown hair. It'd always been easy for the other children to mistake him as a girl, but Artisan threw fits if his parents asked to cut it. So long haired Artisan stayed.

“There!” he cheered, “Perfection!”

Fumbling with the camera, Artisan took a few steps back and began the photoshoot. Oh, his parents were going to love this one!

[[*DOC]]

This was not what Margaret had wanted.

She had been uprooted from her nice home in Ireland, with her nice primary school, and her nice friends, and her nice cosy blue bedroom, for this. A new, tiny, pokey little house in a tiny little neighbourhood, her nice old life gone in favour of... this. Her family had moved to America, for her father's work, forcing her to make new friends all over again.

And for the tiny seven year old girl, this prospect was terrifying.

Her mother had told her to go next door and meet the neighbour's son, having been ushered through the little house by a woman called 'Mrs. Kim', telling her that Artie was in his treehouse in the back garden.

Stood at the bottom of the tree, she gazed up at it sceptically, before beginning to climb the small ladder, dressed in a lilac pinafore with a striped long sleeve top underneath and tights, scuffed black shoes on her feet that had once been clean and shining. Poking her head up through the door, she stared at Artisan for a moment, before her gaze fell upon his creation, the bright blue orbs widening considerably.

"Hi..." She said simply, coming to sit in the entrance of the treehouse, not offering Artisan a smile or anything, merely staring at the recreation of the Parthenon. She had absolutely no idea what it was, but it was really... cool.

"I just moved next door, mum told me to come meet the neighbours..." She offered him a brief explanation, turning her bright eyes back to him, suddenly struck with confusion if the person before her was a boy or a girl.

[/size]

[kiddie]

Artisan didn't look up until he'd finished his left side shot of the miniature building—which he'd later point out, was on a one to one hundred sixty-fourth scale. The boy maneuvered carefully in his navy socks, knowing that the glue hadn't entirely dried yet and that sudden movements would surely make the walls of the Parthenon cave inwards. Velcro shoes were neatly aligned next to the entrance, resting on a little mat that read “Hwan Yeong!”, and Artisan wore overalls with a pair of pliers in the back pocket. The shirt underneath was white, albeit for a splotch that looked suspiciously like an oil stain. A hair elastic was wrapped around his wrist, only to be used in emergencies when the possibility of hot glue getting into his hair was immediate.

“Hello,” he said flatly, “Sorry, but no girls are allowed in my tree house. You might bring cooties. So you're going to have to leave, just in case.” Brown eyes looked her over for a minute before he raised the camera and snapped a photograph of Margaret, of her sitting by the tree house entrance, of their very first encounter.

“My name's Artisan,” he added, almost like an after thought. He lowered the camera and clutched it, waiting for Margaret to leave before continuing photographing his project, “I'm in going to be in first grade and my teacher's name is really hard to pronounce.”