“ thank you… “ replying with a nod, the girl took a seat across from him. being closer, it was as if her powers are amplified. though she fought her hardest not to intrude within his own mind. she took a sip of her coffee and in an attempt to get out of her own head she asked, “ so you are some sort of artist, yes?? i can tell by your shoes. “ smiling softly at the other, trying to make conversation the best that she can.
sandy nods in response, smile widening as he points at the sun and makes long sweeping gestures, an invisible paintbrush in hand. he likes capturing the sun in his portraits, it’s golden hand and long mane of yellow light turned orange and red at dawn and dusk. perhaps it’s because that’s the one thing that’s stayed the same through all these centuries ( that along with the moon, of course ). motions stop and he takes a silent sip of tea, before picking up his pen and scribbling out ‘sandy’ on a napkin already covered with tiny doodles of fish and trees. there’s a little flourish at the end of the ‘y’, and the word is accompanied by a thumb jabbing at his own chest.
