[anOTP - Morgana] Draw me like one of your Gormenghast girls...
The weather has been holding fair and Titus is making use of it, sitting under a tree, sketching the landscape: he's added a box of colored pencils to his rudimentary artist's kit and he's currently sketching the irises that ring the pond on the front lawn.
Morgana might come upon him as he's at work, sleeves rolled above the elbow, shirt collar open. His sketch pad lies propped on his knees, while the artist eyes the edge of the pond, his right arm extended as he gazes past the pencil held in his lightly clenched fist, thumb upraised along the barrel of the stylus, a classic artist's pose (well, a classic pose for the artist to execute himself).
Morgana might come upon him as he's at work, sleeves rolled above the elbow, shirt collar open. His sketch pad lies propped on his knees, while the artist eyes the edge of the pond, his right arm extended as he gazes past the pencil held in his lightly clenched fist, thumb upraised along the barrel of the stylus, a classic artist's pose (well, a classic pose for the artist to execute himself).