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It was fairly early in the morning, the soft cries of Rakk and other early rising creatures leading the secret symphony of the sunrise for those that dared to be awake. It was nothing like the soft chirping of crickets or the twittering tweets of tiny birds - they were scratchy screeches and distant guttural roars - but the sounds were surprisingly calming once you got used to them. Especially when you essentially live on a floating island.
From where he stood in the shower, Axton could just barely hear the ambient noise of the Pandorian morn.
Hot, refreshing streams of water poured down onto him from the shower head, helping wash away four days worth of dirt from a mission he and his team had only returned from the night before. Exhaustion still clung to him stubbornly, leading to his scrubbing motions to be slow and sluggish, though he didn't mind it too much. He was relishing in the inviting heat of the shower, and each drowsily calculated movement made him relax more.
His low, soft voice breached the relative quiet, starting out in little hums as he washed the soap from his muscular frame and continued into a melodious song for his ears only.
'If I could write you a song to make you fall in love
I would already have you right under my arm
I used up all of my tricks, I hope that you like this
But you probably won't, you think you're cooler than me'
He wasn't exactly the most skilled at singing, but in the comfort of his own home and in the glass confines of his shower that didn't matter. He was just having some harmless fun, with no possibility of being scolded for 'strangling cats'. Though, it's not like that ever really stopped him in the first place.
With a bit of flair that really wasn't needed, Axton squirted a little glob of shampoo into his palm - thoroughly lathering his short, light brown tresses in the apple scented goop and massaging it into his scalp. He then let it sit for about 30 ish seconds, before washing it all away. He repeated this with the matching conditioner, his eyes shut and happily singing his little heart out.
He'd been in the shower for about 15 minutes when he decided to finally leave, turning the shower off and stepping over to the bathroom cabinet's mirror. He gave it a wipe with his towel so he could see his reflection properly. The wet mop that was his hair hung heavy across his head, the waterlogged locs just barely reaching the nape off his neck at this point. He frowned a little, sweeping it all back and scooping up a hairband from within the cabinet to tie back into a messy man bun.
"I really need to get a fucking haircut at some point…" He mumbled to himself, wrapping the towel around his waist and turning to leave the bathroom. It hadn't taken him long to dry off, the chill of the morning air biting at his exposed skin and pushing him to get dry enough to get dressed. Once dressed in a thin, baggy beige t-shirt, thick grey tracksuit bottoms and wooly white socks, he began his breakfast routine - buttery toast, a black coffee and a crossword to idly fill in while he figured out the day's schedule.
Him and the others had decided to take a few days to unwind before starting their next objective, after about 20 minutes of exhausted arguing from Zer0 and Maya. They could barely stand at that point, which was the only reason the slender assassin had conceded in the end, but for the most part none of them had really made any plans together this time.
Salvador had mentioned catching up on sleep, Gaige had said that she was going to upgrade Deathtrap, Maya was apparently helping Krieg clean up the shack he'd claimed as his home, and Zer0 had mumbled something about reading or something in the Sniper Tower. Axton, however, hadn't really decided on anything concrete as he was far too tired to think straight at that point.
He really didn't want to piss off Maya by doing any strenuous practices, and phantom aches put him off the idea of working out and straining them any more. He could go hangout with one of the others, or just have a meander around Sanctuary, but he really wasn't in the mood to be around others for such a long time - and especially not the townspeople. The idea of doing the same as Salvador crossed his mind, but unlike the Gunzerker, Axton just couldn't sleep for such long periods of time. He glared down at the paper with a frustrated sigh, only half paying attention to it as he worked his fatigued brain to think of something, anything that would keep him from growing bored in only an hour.
The scratching of his pencil on the newspaper crossword as he wrote 'meadow' into one of the sections made him pause though, an idea popping into his head. His eyes immediately went to his cupboard, where all of his old hobby supplies had been left, forgotten and unused. His brows creased as he thought over the idea, his fingers anxiously drumming on the newspaper.
He hasn't done this particular hobby for a good couple of years now - specifically, ever since he and the others had joined the Crimson Raiders. He never really had the TIME to do it anymore - or, he was just too exhausted to even want to do it.
'God, I must be so rusty by now.' He thought, rubbing at the back of his neck. He was far more nervous about this than he should be, but this was a little piece of himself that he hadn't indulged in for so long - he didn't know if he could relax with it like he used too. And besides - what would he even do with them? A lightbulb went off in his head.
His eyes landed on his ECHO device, already swiping it up as he shoved his chair back and jumped to his feet. He was at the cupboard in seconds, swinging it open and grinning at the packed away supplies.
He knew what he'd do.
----
After about 15 minutes of careful organisation, assembly and set up, it was done. Axton felt a flood of nostalgia wash over him as he took in the sight, a beaming grin on his face. He almost couldn't believe it was real.
Set up before him, in all of its nostalgic glory… was a simple painting set up. He had a wooden easel with a midsized canvas sat on it, a moving wooden panel opened out so a plate with tissues on it could happily sit on it with a plastic cup of water in a special cup holder. Next to the easel was the end of his kitchen table, 5 tubes of oil paint sat close to the edge with 4 differently sized paint brushes.
His nerves had come back tenfold, but his excitement was even stronger than his fear. He really wanted to just have at it and see what he'd make - going in with a big project when so out of practice certainly wasn't going to be a good idea, something he knows personally from his childhood. He smoothed his hand gently over the textured canvas, the little bumps and ridges of the paper reminding him of long nights of listening to rolling storms and painting the night away.
"Oh, it's been so long…" Axton whispered to himself, light dancing in his brown eyes as he finally pulled over and slipped into a kitchen chair to get started. He popped the cap of one of the paints - a blue one - and squeezed out a fairly big blob onto the tissue. He did the same with the other 4 paints - red, yellow, white and black - and picked up the second biggest brush.
Stuck just above the canvas was a printout of a photo, taken a while back when the group had been in The Highlands. It was a beautiful wide shot of the area, and something he just had to capture with his upgraded ECHO lense.
After a moment of hesitation, he got started.
He mixed together some paints to have various different shades of blue, brown and green, cleaning his brush off as and when he needed to so the colours didn't go muddy. Then he began adding strokes of said mixed paints to the canvas haphazardly, his gaze flicking up to the photo reference every so often as he blocked in some of the shapes. Each smooth motion across the page brought the faintest of scratchy noise, which other than his own little hums and noises of concentration was the only sound in the room.
It took a while, but once he shook off the anxiety of getting back into his old hobby enough, he lost himself in the activity - the morning hours fading quickly into late afternoon as he gradually filled the canvas with colour. He was completely immersed in it, almost like he was adding colour to the world around him as he dabbed slight colour variations across each block of colour. He swapped between all of the brushes at least twice at minimum, sticking mainly to the two mid-sized brushes once the colour blocks were set up. The only real breaks he took were to grab a snack or drink from the fridge, and to refill the cup with clean water when it got too muddy.
It was only when his body actively started to protest against the sitting position he was in that he properly stopped, allowing himself a moment to sit back and blink away any blurriness from the tunnel vision he'd drifted into while painting. It felt like the world around him had actually faded away for a while there, and as he checked his ECHO for the time he couldn't help but be surprised by how long he'd actually been sitting there just… painting.
"Fuck, has it really been that long?" He thought with a strained noise rumbling in his throat, the Commando stretching his limbs and back to get all of the cricks, aches and pains out. It had been almost 7 hours - 7 freaking hours! He actually couldn't believe it.
Looking at what he had so far too, he was actually pretty impressed. It wasn't mind-blowingly amazing, but he hadn't deteriorated completely like he thought he would have. It just took some getting used to - shaking the rust off, in a way.
Things really could be close to normal for him. He could finally indulge himself in such insignificant pleasures, like painting, after years of convincing himself he shouldn't. The guilt he'd felt over taking the very photograph he'd been painting felt almost silly now, causing a burning need to get himself a newer, proper camera. Oh, all of the things he could capture in the lens of an actual camera - the details he could enhance, the beauty he would seal away forever within its memory, the memories he could finally keep close to his chest in his little photo book!
Reinvigorated, and excited to continue, he stood and rushed to his kitchen to make himself something more substantial to eat. He had a long night ahead of him if he was going to finish this painting, and he didn't want to end up falling asleep against the canvas.
—-
When Zer0 had woken up that morning, they hadn't expected to see anyone else in the team lounge - it was still really early after all, and normally only them and Maya got up that early. But there they were, standing in the doorway to see Axton of all people fast asleep in one of the armchairs, a long abandoned cup of now cold coffee sat on the coffee table. With how much he'd sunk into the old thing, he'd likely been there for at least an hour.
They didn't know how long exactly they ended up standing there, staring in utter shock at their unconscious friend, but soon enough a light tap to their shoulder was startling them back into reality.
"Morning, Zer0. Everything alright?" Maya said with a note of amusement as they glared down at her, an angry emoticon flashing to show their annoyance. She paid it no mind though, pushing Zer0 forwards into the room and slipping past them to see what had stopped them in their tracks. "Ah. OK, yeah, I get it."
"I wasn't aware that he knew HOW to get up so early."
"Maybe he hasn't slept?"
"That does seem more plausible than him finally learning to get up when we do, considering his preference for sleeping in."
The two considered the possibility, both drawing a blank as to why he'd stay up for so long. With a shrug, the assassin moved over to the lounge's couch, pulling a thin fleece quilt from its back to drape it over the sleeping Commando. They earned a questioning look from the Siren at that.
"You're not going to wake him up?" She asked, opening a cupboard and pulling out a bowl to start making a simple breakfast for herself.
"No, not yet. Let him have a bit more beauty sleep before the madness begins."
"OK."
They fell into light smalltalk after that, discussing the events the day prior while Maya poured herself some cereal and Zer0 sat down with a book. Stories of chaotic cleaning nightmares and unintentionally redecorating the Sniper Tower only lasted for so long though, as when Maya took a seat beside her taller ally and had a spoonful of cereal, her eyes immediately focused on the new splotches of colour above the room's fireplace.
Blue eyes widened at the new decoration, certain that it hadn't been there before. She recognised the image of The Highlands easily, but she could see the slightly raised texture of paint on canvas and KNEW none of them had ordered a new decoration for the room. At least… She thought no one had ordered something?
"Hey, uh, Ze? Did you order a painting online?" She said quietly, eyes not leaving the random art piece in interest. Unsure as to what she was talking about, Zer0 looked up from their book to where she was staring and flashed an exclamation point.
"... Nooo. No, I didn't."
"Ah."
Silence fell over them, both once more trying to piece together whatever the fuck was going on, when the assassin’s gaze fell back on the sleeping soldier. He had shifted in his sleep, having cozied up under the quilt and turned a little to face the back of the chair more, but on his cheek they could just barely see the faintest splash of muted green and pale greyish blue. A soft smile grew on their face as they looked back at the painting, their eyes soon finding a messy signature scrawled in the bottom right corner of the canvas.
"I think I know what kept Axton up all night Maya."