The Problem With Paint

A Chapter by RobberBaron

The first chapter of the first story in Pudding and Tallulah Adventures. Set in a dystopian universe, will be re-written.

Pudding shuddered. There was something in the air that seemed out of place, like a noise he couldn't quite hear. Anxiety overcame him as, for a few moments, he felt as if he was slipping away, and that all too soon he would be swallowed by the dark shadows surrounding him.

Then he woke up.

Curiosity lingered as he cleared his eyes to reveal that he was in a large living room. The room was clean, and furnished elegantly, with a theme colour of purple and light green; under normal circumstances that mix of colours may be perceived as ugly, but these circumstances were hardly normal.

The next thing he noticed was that the living room was in fact his. He was lay down on surprisingly comfortable couch, inside his own green and purple living room in his own house - but it was the house itself that was abnormal. Aside from being large, it had been criminally under-priced at the time of purchase, which had been as soon as Pudding had been evicted from the small apartment he had shared with his younger sister, Tallulah. Of course, Tallulah had done the decorating, equally using both of their favourite colours: green and purple, respectively. But then, that was the least she could do - still, Pudding knew she was grateful for everything he had done, which consisted least of earning money, finding food and shelter. Pudding and Tallulah had never had parents, which was a mystery in itself. But they had always been different, the capability to do things that others couldn't. Maybe that was how they'd been able to survive so long, anyway.

Pudding's ears tuned to the sound of the clock, ticking in steady rhythm. It then occurred to him to check the time; yet, he still had no idea how long he'd been asleep for. Sitting up, he gazed out of the impressive window, covering nearly floor to ceiling. A humongous field stretched for as far as he could see - but this was the best part of the house: away from prying eyes. After all, Pudding and Tallulah's differences hardly went unnoticed.

Pudding stood to alert as Tallulah entered through the front door, just adjacent to the living room; she gave him one of her 'what are you up to?' looks, before dumping a load of bags in the hallway. For someone so interested in fashion, she could often be quite careless. Pudding was about to ask what all the bags were for, but after noticing the drapes, cushions and paint buckets, thought better of it.

"I won't ask" he said, in his humorously condescending manner, before clawing at the air to stretch off his sleep.
"Have you been lying on that sofa this whole time?" she chuckled, although there was a ring of reprimand to it.
"I guess," he murmured, then suddenly found himself remembering Tallulah requesting something of him, which explained her tone.
"Sorry! I completely forgot, and I must've just fallen asleep and-"
"I knew you would" she interrupted, but it was clear that she didn't bear a grudge, "so while I was out I asked Toulouse if he could help, I know he's as good at painting as you are singing," she stifled a laugh as her mind drew back to his humiliating karaoke rendition of the Lava Twins' latest single, "but it's just walls, what's the worst that could happen?"
"Hmm…" Pudding grumbled; it wasn't that he had a problem with Toulouse coming over, after all Toulouse was his best friend and had always been willing to help out. It was just that Toulouse could be rather, to put it politely, eccentric, especially when paired with Tallulah, and giving them both of job of finishing painting the house was not a good idea. Then again, he thought, he had brought it on himself.
"I suppose that would be-"
"Oh take a load off will you, you worry too much!" she chimed. Of course Pudding worried too much, what wasn't there to worry about? It worried him that she was so careless, and one day she could end up in trouble.

It wasn't long before Toulouse arrived, but after setting up the stepladder and equipment, he worked unaided at the walls. Toulouse was rather tall, so it wasn't difficult for him; as an inventor-gone-mad scientist, the way he spoke made everything sound exciting, when indeed, for Pudding and Tallulah, it was like watching paint dry. His hair was thick and long, but curled so that it didn't protrude from his head, giving it the appearance of being short and bushy, which also added to the 'mad-scientist' effect.

Toulouse was an exception for Pudding, because, often people other than Tallulah would cause Pudding to transform into a showman. He would admit that he often changed his personality in order to make others like him, but only to Tallulah. Still, there was something about Toulouse that made him not try so hard; and, of course, they were both intellectuals, and the majority of their conversation consisted of discussions over topics the likes of which no normal person would understand, or quite frankly, care about. Pudding now watched as Toulouse's arm took long strides with the brush. He waited a few minutes before deciding to comment:

"Uh, Toulouse?"
"Yes! Uh, I mean, yes?" came the expected reply.
"All I wanted to say was, you may want to use a larger brush; we generally use that sort of brush for, you know, portraits and things, not, uh, walls…"
Pudding trailed off: he didn't want to sound at all patronising, but he had often thought that Toulouse was the most stupid genius he had ever met. He watched as Toulouse chuckled nervously whilst attempting casually replace the brush, resulting in him falling off the step ladder. Genius.

While Toulouse found a better brush, Pudding could see that Tallulah was up to something; even though she was still on the sofa, she sat on the edge, and was twiddling her thumbs. She watched patiently as Toulouse resumed his work - this time with a slightly different colour, which annoyed her - and then went for it; lifting her hands, a sapphire glow circled her fingertips, which then protruded to encase a cushion on the couch. Concentrating deeply, she caused the cushion to lift into the air, rotated it slightly, and then thwack!
"Hey!" cried Toulouse.
Pudding had been witness to Tallulah using her powers, the ones he had been teaching her how to use, to throw a cushion at his best friend. Of course, he found this hilarious, and began to join in the game. Pudding was far more advanced with this, because he had been using his powers for years. Neither were sure where they had got the powers from, and they vowed to scarcely use them, but only because people do not take kindly to those who are different. Still, despite being the sensible one, Pudding winked at Tallulah before reaching out his hand, emitting an emerald glow and grabbing the paintbrush; the paintbrush dance across the wall, with Toulouse precariously attempting to retrieve it, shaking the ladder. Tallulah chuckled, but in an attempt to beat her brother, lifted a nail and hammer, and attempted to hit the nail into the wall. The hammer pathetically tapped the small nail, before Pudding intervened. She then lifted a painting she had done, using with the smaller brush, and tried to hang it above Toulouse on the nail. Unfortunately, just at the same time Pudding flung a cushion at Toulouse, who then toppled and grabbed onto the painting for support. The nail had not gone as far in as intended, and as Toulouse fell it ripped the tall wallpaper into two, exposing earlier wallpaper underneath.
One might think this had been irresponsible of Pudding and Tallulah. Still, each time, Toulouse had landed on a safety bed of cushions, which was probably why the stepladder was so very unstable in the first place. But now, exposed underneath the new wallpaper, printed onto the old one was-
"A bunch of blobs" said Tallulah, standing to inspect it.
Pudding helped Toulouse to his feet, and they ripped it open further.
"No, not a bunch of blobs" noticed Pudding, "but rather, what looks like, some sort of map."
After exposing the wallpaper underneath, they saw it was indeed a map, a map of the whole Castellium itself.

Pudding, Tallulah and Toulouse lived on Castellium. Much of it's history and landmarks remained unknown, but it had been rumoured that it was as old as the universe. The inhabited side of Castellium was divided into Citadels, town like structures all housed inside city gates, however Pudding and Tallulah's residence was outside of any Citadel. Most of Castellium was rural, because the Castellians were not large in numbers and most people did not leave their home Citadel. Only few knew of Castellium's true history, but legends and whispers were still passed on regardless.

The point where the nail had originated had been exactly where the house was on the map, which they could now clearly see is at the exact centre of the surrounding Citadels. The nail had then been dragged down in an arc to the left, where it stopped on an outer Citadel labelled "Mortus Terram".

"Where is that?" inquired Toulouse, curiously, "I mean, I've never heard of it."
Pudding took note of how serious Toulouse sounded, "Mortus Terram, it's from the old language. It means 'dead ground', it's simply a label telling us that no-one goes there anymore."
"Then why is it on the map?" Tallulah decided to join the discussion, "I mean, I guess it's quite old looking, but why would an old map said 'dead ground'? Perhaps a newer one"
The map posed much mystery. Pudding wasn't sure if anyone else had noticed, but the house seemed to be linking too many coincidences, as if it had been planned for Pudding to buy it, to discover whatever secrets lay inside. It was the most luxury Pudding and Tallulah had ever experienced, but it seemed to be at the heart of something big. Not including Castellium. Toulouse and Tallulah were still discussing theories and posing more questions when Pudding came to a decision:
"Something is obviously going on here, something strange; I don't think all this is just a coincidence. I propose we visit Mortus Terram."
"Way ahead of you" came the reply from Toulouse, already preparing to leave. Pudding noticed he had paint on his face, but decided not to mention it.
"But, but, what about the decorating?" was the inevitable protest from Tallulah.
"Alright, you can stay here if you like" said Pudding fiendishly: she was hardly going to wait behind and let him have all the fun.
"Like that's gonna happen", Tallulah was not afraid to show a more sassy side to her whenever possible, "but, how do we even know how to get there?"
And now, Toulouse finally decided to show his smarter side:
"Surely, if it is not by chance that we find ourselves setting off on this venture, then we will find whatever we are supposed to unaided. If it is just a coincidence, then we can return home and finish painting."
The end of his sentence showed a tinge of antagonisation and more emphasis on the "we", given that so far he had been doing the painting alone whilst being attacked by cushions.
"Exactly," of course, Pudding had already come to this conclusion, nevertheless he had let Toulouse make the suggestion, "besides, it will fill up some time now I don't have any work."
This statement seemed rather pointed, but not at anyone in the room: Pudding had been disallowed work after it was discovered he had been using his powers to aid him; ever since, they had managed to get by because the house and surrounding fields provided all they need. Ironic, he thought, the open land was a safe haven from the enclosed Citadels. But he had always attributed their judgement to the result of living in such sheltered conditions, where everything is organised and was the same as it always had been. He didn't like to think too much about the Citadels, however, as it just brought back bad memories. Regardless, an empty Citadel no longer used was certainly a matter of interest, especially to someone as inquisitive as Pudding.

"Are you coming or not?", Tallulah and Toulouse were already by the door in coats.
"Just a second" he called, as he stared intently at the map. As the moments passed, he could feel the space around him open up, as if he was slipping away; an incredibly silent noise blasted his ears, like something was close but in a distant place. Then he blinked. The feelings faded and the next moment he was outside the door.

One thing he always hated was locking the door, in-case later on it wouldn't allow him back in; and besides, who would be able to steal from them here, in the middle of no-where? Still, he had always diligently kept it locked, but made sure there was a spare key hidden under one of Tallulah's flower pots. He turned to face the fields, taking another long look at the ever-stretching glaze. And it was then that he knew. It was something he'd been certain of, something that he'd always known he'd have to face up to, but never realised the intensity of it until the sudden realisation hit him: it was gonna be a hell of a long walk.