The Roof, Sunday Afternoon

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Katchoo lugged the easel, the paints and palette, and a couple of the blank canvases she'd bought earlier in the week up to the roof, setting herself up in the corner with the garden of spiky plants. It had been a long time since she'd had a chance to do any artwork, and painting was still something fairly new to her; now that she actually had her life to herself again (for however long that lasted) she welcomed the chance to try her hand at.

Acrylics. She'd never painted with acrylics before, either, and though she'd never admit it out loud as she squeezed generous daubs of various colors onto the palette, she had no idea what it was going to be like. Some classically-trained artist somewhere would probably have a fit if they saw her guessing her way through this, she thought, lighting up a cigarette.

Absently, she dipped her brush into a color at random and began to let it trail over the canvas. This was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, but it was soothing.

[OOC: Open like a roof is. Mind the temperamental artist, but she's a bit mellower today.]