Page 26 of Prince of the Northwest Forest
This building is from the 1920s, and the floor is the original narrow planks. It’s marked by stains and divots, but I likehow it’s imperfect. The landlord replaced the windows, so there are new double-hung ones that overlook the street below. And beyond, I have a view of the ocean. The vintage plaster walls are painted a generic white, but I enjoy the play of light across them throughout the day. The bathroom’s equally vintage, with a corner sink that has two faucets—one for cold and one for hot—and a soap dish built into the wall. I appreciate that it was made to last, even if it is quite old.
I’m looking at the place through Kalle’s eyes—or what I presume is his perspective. If he grew up in a castle, his living quarters are likely the size of this whole building. So it will seem minuscule. While I don’t have the budget for much more, I also prefer living this way. And it is neat and clean.
I turn around.
Prince Kalle of the Northwest Forest is standing in my little studio apartment. With his old-fashioned clothes, boots, sword, and cloak, it feels like I opened up a book and he stepped out of it and into my living room.
Ilikehim being in my living room. A laugh bubbles up inside me, but I suppress it and focus on shucking off my boots. “Make yourself comfortable. You can put your sword down wherever.”
“Do you want me to take my shoes off?” he asks.
“Up to you.”
He nods and unhooks his cloak. He sets it and his sword to the side before sitting down on the chair at my table and taking off his boots. He’s left in his dark pants, a linen shirt, and socks that look like the kind sock monkeys are made out of: a gray pattern with white heels and toes, with some red. Without his cloak, Kalle’s dark hair contrasts with his shirt, and his eyes seem more intense.
Fuck, he is hot.
“Will you show me your art?” he asks.
My ears burn. “The pixel art?” Do I want to show him?
He nods.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“I am,” he says, “but it can wait. But … you don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”
“No, I do.”
I go to my laptop, set it on the table, and open it. As the screen awakens, he leans over me, and I resist a shiver. I love having him so close.
With a few clicks, I navigate to my portfolio of images. Resting the cursor on one, I enlarge it. “So, this is a self-portrait of me as a backpacker.” With as few pixels as possible, I’ve made my face—two dark eyes, a single pixel for my nose and one for my mouth—a line of dark hair, some dark pixels indicating a few tattoos on my arms, a white T-shirt, jeans, suspenders, boots, and a backpack. “The whole thing takes up almost no memory, because it’s designed to be utterly simple. Very low resolution. I usually stick with 8-bit, although sometimes I do more detailed work.”
He’s silent, so I look over my shoulder and see his friendly eyes. “I don’t understand how it all works, but I think it’s really cool.”
I feel warm with his praise.
“What are the other ones?”
“A lot of Jails and Jackals characters,” I say. “That role-playing game I like.” I start clicking on them. “Here’s a knight with a sword, and an old man who lives in the woods, and a troll. There’s a paladin.”
“Is this part a cloak he’s wearing?” Kalle asks, pointing to a character with green pixels around his head.
“Yeah. Um, he looks a little bit like you,” I say. Or more than a little bit, since without even realizing it, a year ago I’d made pixel art of someone who looks exactly like Kalle. I click throughmore images—of bards and barbarians, spell casters and shape-shifters.
“These are truly amazing. It feels likealmosta cartoon, but more the spirit of one.”
“Exactly. Like how a haiku is just a few syllables to get to the core of a poem. Pixel art gets to the core of animation.”
His stomach grumbles, and he grimaces. “Sorry.”
“Enough. Let’s get you some food.” I snap my laptop shut and stand up.
“Can I help?” Kalle asks, as we both wander over to the kitchen.
Now that he’s in my space, dressed down and standing in my living room, you’d think he’d seem less royal. He doesn’t. Maybe it’s how tall he is or the erect way he holds his shoulders.
Regardless, even though he shouldn’t fit in here, he neverthelessdoes.
