Character list for this role-play will be posted in my pen soon.
Sakana laid a hand over her rounded belly. It wouldn't be long know before they would be here. She enjoyed laying one hand over her stomach as she painted. She still painted with the brush Azraille had made her from her own fur. The other mother of her children. She was long gone now...
Sakana sighed and crumpled up another piece of paper, tears welling in her eyes.
She could no longer see Azraille in her mind. All she had left of her was her own paintings of her. She tried so hard to use those paintings to paint new ones, but something was always missing...
Her grace, her spirit, and her heart. Without being next to her, she could no longer capture them with paints.
Focus, she scolded herself internally. Two weeks. Two weeks until her very own and very first art gallery.
Sakana was in fear of having to move back to the slums. If she didn't make enough to pay her rent of this gallery she would be forced too. However, without Azrialle here to be her muse she was struggling to find anything worth painting. Everything she did paint fell short of her perfectionist standards.
"Fuck!" she screamed throwing some watercolor paints towards her wall. She was even more moody lately given the pregnancy hormones. She couldn't push her feelings down.
Sakana sighed and crumpled up another piece of paper, tears welling in her eyes.
She could no longer see Azraille in her mind. All she had left of her was her own paintings of her. She tried so hard to use those paintings to paint new ones, but something was always missing...
Her grace, her spirit, and her heart. Without being next to her, she could no longer capture them with paints.
Focus, she scolded herself internally. Two weeks. Two weeks until her very own and very first art gallery.
Sakana was in fear of having to move back to the slums. If she didn't make enough to pay her rent of this gallery she would be forced too. However, without Azrialle here to be her muse she was struggling to find anything worth painting. Everything she did paint fell short of her perfectionist standards.
"Fuck!" she screamed throwing some watercolor paints towards her wall. She was even more moody lately given the pregnancy hormones. She couldn't push her feelings down.