[ Rohan is exactly where he said he would be-- in the back, calling to Jotaro from beyond the curtain. ]
Back here, Jotaro. [ Seated on the front desk, there is a white box pulled open whose innards of tissue paper have been spilled out with the cyan ribbon which held it shut. It's empty.
Behind the curtain, the naga is in a familiar pose with one of his paintings. Too many brushes in one hand, his tail holding the fancy slat of wood he has been mixing them on. On the canvas itself is a hastily done real-life speedpaint of none other than the artist himself. The key difference between painting and any of his little drawings is that Rohan has legs instead of Snakebutt to complete one of his absurd ensembles with Horrifying Pants. A whole mess of detail has been put into where the painting's foot is flexed at the heel, pointing the toe of a bright yellow shoe toward the floor and beyond. It takes the eye up to his willowy knees that used to be what supported most of his weight.
It's like looking between two pictures of the same person years apart. On the windowsill sits a brand new hand-blown wineglass with a frosted finish in a cool tea hue. ]
I needed to be alone. Thank you for understanding. [ Barring Yuzu who just shOWED UP TO BE NICE. ]
I still don't know what I am supposed to say or feel.
no subject
Back here, Jotaro. [ Seated on the front desk, there is a white box pulled open whose innards of tissue paper have been spilled out with the cyan ribbon which held it shut. It's empty.
Behind the curtain, the naga is in a familiar pose with one of his paintings. Too many brushes in one hand, his tail holding the fancy slat of wood he has been mixing them on. On the canvas itself is a hastily done real-life speedpaint of none other than the artist himself. The key difference between painting and any of his little drawings is that Rohan has legs instead of Snakebutt to complete one of his absurd ensembles with Horrifying Pants. A whole mess of detail has been put into where the painting's foot is flexed at the heel, pointing the toe of a bright yellow shoe toward the floor and beyond. It takes the eye up to his willowy knees that used to be what supported most of his weight.
It's like looking between two pictures of the same person years apart. On the windowsill sits a brand new hand-blown wineglass with a frosted finish in a cool tea hue. ]
I needed to be alone. Thank you for understanding. [ Barring Yuzu who just shOWED UP TO BE NICE. ]
I still don't know what I am supposed to say or feel.