At first, Chen ignores her phone. She's got it face down on top of the thin but stubborn little moss that makes its home on every little rock and bare spot amid the tall grass. It's the perfect phone perch: she'll know that it buzzed, but the moss is soft and fluffy so it's muffled, not too startling even though it's within easy reach. There's no message from anyone, anyone in the whole wide world, that's such an emergency that it can't wait for her to touch up a few things before she looks at it. Anybody who thought they were that important was way too full of themselves. 

She glances back up at the horizon as the red leaves pass her, settling somewhere on the hillside below. She has to get that down on her paper while the image is fresh in her mind. She takes her brush, licks it between her lips to get the little fibers just so. She knew she wasn't supposed to use her mouth with the brushes that way, but it felt good and her paints were all made from natural materials and weren't poisonous so she had decided it was perfectly fine. Besides, her indigo paint tasted like a tart little berry and she liked it. A little dot of indigo gets on her chin though. She'd have to remember to wash that off on the way back or her mother would give her that withering glance that made her want to shrink into nothing and pray the floor would open up to swallow what was left. 

No time to think about that, she had to paint the leaves! She dips her brush into the little palette and fills it with red. Hers is bright red, like a fresh fall apple. They'll get those soon with leaves like these, but the flying oak leaf on indigo is a little darker, not so bright. So she adds just a touch of gray, transforming her red with that odd glorious gray of twilight that was made up of a thousand other colors. She adds the leaves to her little easel in a few quick, steady strokes as she breathes out. There, there, and there, and now it was perfect, that little bit of pastoral essence over the strange space elevators in the background capturing the soul of the world. She'd have to title it. "Fall Leaves" was the first thing coming to her, probably because that was the last thing she'd just painted, but that was so boring it made her want to smack herself for even letting the idea cross her mind. "Electric Twilight?" Too pretentious. "Imperial Autumn" was just as bad and worse her mother would probably [i]like[/i] that one. Maybe...oh right the phone, she was just letting her mind wander now.

With a sigh, she lifts it up to see who messaged her. Then with a sudden start, Chen's head snaps up. Her raven black hair (tied back in a tight ponytail so it wouldn't blow into her easel) bounces up in response and her fluffy red scarf (nearly the same red as the leaves) loosens a little, one tail falling over her shoulder. Was Qiu here somewhere? Chen wasn't in any state for a dance off, her hands were freezing and she was stiff from sitting in the same place for an hour even with her warm wool coat and fur-lined boots. Seeing no doom instantly descending on her though, she turns to the phone at last. 

Chen: yeah, I saw it
Chen: did a really good painting
Chen: like
Chen: seriously good
Chen: but I dunno what to call it...
Chen: uh where are you?