OH are we supposed to be talking about the strings on Kiaane??

Ignas nods to all those strings, pointing a finger forward to them as well, "So, are you also apart of the exhibit too?"

"Hm..." Ignas taps his finger to his chin as he acts like he's thinking very deeply on the question, which is obviously very false, "I think that's a no. Unless you want to. I could care less."

Last edited by Time (August 21, 2022 22:36:38)

((Alright, gotcha.
I can feel it happening lol))

"...What current procedure?" Ignas looks at Kianne quizically, raising a brow.

"Deciding the individual components," they respond unblinkingly. They flip around their notepad and hold it up towards the others, almost in front of their face. Actually, since the paper is now covering their usual grimace-like expression, they could be said to look a little cute. Clueless, even. Like they're peering over the top edge of their pad of papers. 
The notepad itself specifies what they mean to an extent. There are some color names written on the page, with smears of their hues (more or less) to their sides. Therefore, one can presume that Kiaane's way of going about this is...somehow deciding all the colors of the lights before starting to make them or whatever.
It isn't that illogical once you phrase it in a way that somewhat makes sense. After all, one wouldn't buy all the lights at the store before choosing which ones to hang up. It seems they just want this to be more customized, in a sense. How nice.

((oops sorry I didn't know I was thinking someone else to post))

Ignas stares at the notepad for a few moments, then looks up to them, "Look, Kiaane, in all honesty, I don't care what the colors look like or what order they're in or anything of that sort. If you want them up, just set them up. If you want a specific order, just go find one to copy or ask someone else." He says with exasperation.

Are color arrangements really that important? Martin wondered. Maybe setting them up in a pattern would be good enough. Or making it just so that the same color didn't appear in a row. 
He wouldn't know, he'd never really thought about decorations before. 

Their gaze is a little further away now.
"It wasn't always like that," they say, almost thoughtfully, though it's also like they're talking to themselves at the same time. They're leaning their mini notebook against their face too, fitting that impression. And now, they square their gaze somewhere near the Thaohal's hairline. Sorry, this is the best they can do.
"Why?" they ask.
It...seems to be a serious question.