...what mattered to us, what mattered to me...
A large, once-white wall in the Nexus has been thoroughly desecrated. Splatters of paint in bright vivid tones - red, blue, green, yellow - reach nearly ten feet up the blank, unattached wall. Some are tiny pinpoints of the jewel-like tones, as if flicked from the end of a paintbrush, others are broad, wide sweeping strokes of color. Several empty and half-full cas are scattered about, cast away as soon as the manic artist grew bored with them.
Lower down, the painting grows more erratic, colors overlapping and spread haphazardly here and there. Upon closer examination, it can be perceived that plaster has been gouged out in lumps at seemingly random places alone the wall, like it had been scratched and attacked by some wild animal.
The primary, overwhelming color is a deep blood red.
Julian is at one corner of the wall, shirt off, paint smeared across his arms and neck and face and torso. He slowly submerges his hands to the wrists in a bucket of green paint, lifting them out and watching it drip from his fingers for a moment. He starts painting then, slowly, methodically, careful to cover every bit of white within reaching distance with emerald green.
"Are walls to keep people out?" he asks in a soft, nearly-toneless voice, blinking against the splatters of paint that drip across his nose when he reaches up high. "Or to keep people in?"
Lower down, the painting grows more erratic, colors overlapping and spread haphazardly here and there. Upon closer examination, it can be perceived that plaster has been gouged out in lumps at seemingly random places alone the wall, like it had been scratched and attacked by some wild animal.
The primary, overwhelming color is a deep blood red.
Julian is at one corner of the wall, shirt off, paint smeared across his arms and neck and face and torso. He slowly submerges his hands to the wrists in a bucket of green paint, lifting them out and watching it drip from his fingers for a moment. He starts painting then, slowly, methodically, careful to cover every bit of white within reaching distance with emerald green.
"Are walls to keep people out?" he asks in a soft, nearly-toneless voice, blinking against the splatters of paint that drip across his nose when he reaches up high. "Or to keep people in?"