《ICOMO ODYSSEY》009. Andrea of Yep
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9
Andrea of Yep
After setting up camp on a grassy dune not far away from the arched cliff, Jon went into the village to buy groceries, tying a makeshift bungee cord leash around the dog’s neck.
The village of Yep first enters the historical record during the three kingdoms period, prior to the great wars that ended with Co’s victory and unification. At that time, it was common for itinerant travelers to wander from province to province selling wares, trading, teaching skills, and offering services.
One such wanderer was the writer Xybius of Ii, who kept a journal and made the earliest known reference to Yep. He writes:
Upon inquiring of a villager if the village had any name, the man simply answered, Yep, in typical Co terseness, before turning around and walking off.
Whether this was a name or an affirmation, we cannot be sure; but this is how the report circulated after Xybius’ death, which the untraveled courtiers of Ii used to commission maps.
Yep had about as many people as it had ever had upon Jon’s arrival. Modern conveniences had also made it about as comfortable as the glittering skyscraper cities of Ii. The practical-looking houses had the unique Co aesthetic of being sturdy, well-cleaned, and plainly colored.
Before anything else, Jon bought a proper dog leash and then went to the butcher for a kilo of cloned beef and chicken breast. After that, he stopped at the market to purchase cabbage, celery, tomatoes, mushrooms, garlic, starch, and noodles. Lastly, he went to the bakery and bought two bread batons, which to Jon’s dismay were hard and unsalted.
Down at the darkening beach, Jon started the fire stone and boiled water in his quicklime pot. As the water bubbled he added thinly-sliced beef, noodles, and vegetables to the salty broth, which cooked quickly.
While eating he noticed the woman from before not far away. She had drawn another design into the sand. It resembled a flower with ever more rings of complex petals on the outside.
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“Want to go check it out?” Jon asked the dog.
He put the dog on a leash and walked toward the young woman, but did not approach too closely. The woman noticed him at once. She kept drawing, glancing back at him with a serious look.
Jon felt like he was bothering her, so he turned around and went back to his campsite, where he washed the dog’s feet and carried her into the tent with him to sleep.
In the morning, Jon smashed garlic and sautéed it in a bit of vegetable oil, then added diced celery, starched chicken, and soy sauce. While eating, he noticed the design in the sand from last night, half-eaten up by the advancing tide. Now that the woman had left, he and the dog walked over for a better look.
“Did you sleep out here all night?” a voice asked.
Turning around, Jon saw the artist herself sitting on a boulder, hugging her knees to her chest, and watching her own design being washed away.
“Good morning,” said Jon, “and yeah, I did.”
“You’ve got a really old-fashioned looking solar-cycle.”
“Ah, that’s because it’s just a normal bike.”
She looked him up and down as if checking for other surprises.
“I see,” she said quietly.
“I’m riding my bike around all of Icomo,” he explained.
“Oh…”
That was all—just ‘oh.’ He felt like he was talking to himself.
“Your drawing’s beautiful.”
This compliment seemed to make her uncomfortable but also reluctantly happy.
“Thank you.”
“Do you do this kind of thing a lot?”
She took the drawing pole into both hands and pretended to inspect it, as if to have something to do.
“Every day.”
Jon returned his gaze to the ocean.
“Doesn’t it make you sad to see all your hard work destroyed?”
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She smirked at him but did not look up from the pole.
“This is the fate of all art. The only difference is the time frame.”
At that moment, the young woman’s stomach growled and her face turned red. Jon grinned.
“Hungry?”
Looking up from the pole for just a moment, she glanced in the direction of Jon’s tent.
“You’re cooking out here?”
“I finished already, but there are some leftovers, so if you want any, you’re welcome to join me.”
“Well, as long as we don’t have to walk too far…”
She followed Jon to the campsite with the dog sprinting up and down the coastline or running in happy circles around them. They sat down together below the patchwork shade of clouds, and Jon warmed up a serving of garlic chicken. The dog sat begging at the girl’s knees and watched her eating.
“Does she have a name?”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
“Her eyes are very blue.”
“They are, aren’t they.”
The dog seemed to know she was being talked about and whined hungrily.
“Speaking of names, I’m Jon.”
“Andrea.”
Jon added more chicken to her bowl. Her eyes narrowed upon a closer inspection of his face.
“You’re not wearing your Eye.”
“Oh, well, when I ride my bike I don’t like to have it in all the…” Jon paused, noticing something. “You don’t wear your Eye either?”
Andrea shook her head.
“Not when I’m drawing.”
“Makes sense.”
For a while there was silence. Jon had run out of things to say, and Andrea seemed to find it unnecessary that they speak.
“So you’re from Yep?”
Andrea nodded.
“Yep.”
“I’m from Mo.”
“I see…”
Jon stirred the chicken still left in the pot, needing something to do. Eventually, Andrea finished eating and stood up.
“Thanks.”
She began to walk away, then stopped abruptly.
“Cyan.”
Jon blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
“The dog’s eyes…” She pointed. “They’re cyan.”
“Oh, I guess they are.”
“I mean, you needed a name, didn’t you?”
Jon looked into the dog’s blue eyes.
“Cyan…” he said testing it out.
“Just a suggestion.”
Andrea walked uphill toward Yep, and Jon continued eating, thinking about the name and the strange girl he had met.
Putting down his bowl, he clapped his hands together to get the dog excited.
“What do you think, hm? Do you want to be called Cyan?”
After eating Jon cleaned up and rested in the tent, feeling stuffed from his double breakfast.
Jon had no idea, but he had just met one of the most celebrated young artists of his age. At the time of their meeting, however, Andrea Graf was only an awkward nineteen-year-old girl who came across as rude and distracted.
Today, she is well-known for her projection art and the ceiling of the Niollinskport capital building, which she painted years later with her iconic patterns. She is highly regarded in Ii, where tastes favor symmetry and complex detail. Art critics in Mo at the Vespri Institute of Art marvel at the idea of a Co woman developing such an ornate style, but perhaps it is that region’s famous capacity for patience which helped Andrea achieve what she did.
Jon knew none of this, of course. At that time, Andrea was but an eccentric adolescent, could not make friends, felt lonely, and doubted herself.
So it was that Andrea Graf, visionary artist, met Jonathan Vélo, bike-riding legend, and named his companion Cyan.
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