 For Atlas! Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?
Ash loved this place. It was special. She could jump off of it and not get hurt at all. She could take naps in a safe space where nobody could watch her dream. She could collect memories of the view for her art. She could do her homework. She could stare at nothingness in peace. The treehouse was perfect in every single way.
Currently, Ash was using it to paint in peace. She had a backlog of people to be painted at the moment. She was about halfway through a painting of Lisa. The memory was of the time she first met the girl. By a fountain, looking mischievous. It was a good memory. It was good to paint someone who didn't have to look sad in their painting. Ash's painting of herself was deeply unhappy. A girl half-turned around, with a look of unsurprised disappointment reflected in the scarred, angry, alone half of the face that the viewer could see. But Lisa- she was happy as far as Ash could tell, and Ash was totally prepared to fight and keep it that way. For both of their sakes, and for the sake of someone looking at the paintings and searching for a glimmer of happiness in the subjects.
This was relaxing. Ash therefore looked relaxed. Not on her guard. Stretched out, in a relatively good mood, painting her friend.
This treehouse really was a safe place for Ash. In her current mood, she felt that it would be harder to upset her than usual. Easier to make her smile than usual. For once, just once, Ash could describe her mood as happy.
Look at her. Relaxed. Smiling softly. She really was a beautiful sight. |