Art is basically free therapy

It wasn’t often that he strayed far from the surroundings of the bunker, the furthest usually being a trip to Oakheart. But today he’d gone to Aston with an errand to retrieve documents from an old archive, as well as buying some new art supplies. The documents were placed neatly in a folder inside his backpack, intended only for lending until his father’s investigation was over. He carried the art supplies in a bag beside him as he walked through Aston Park, stopping to observe the view from the path, not quite being able to resist the opportunity to paint. He easily felt inspired when he went to new places. And art had always been something he’d enjoyed doing. It had been his escape from his responsibilities while he'd lived in Heaven. A place where he could forget about all of it for just a little white. He’d found a spot on a bench underneath a large tree, shadowing him from the bright sun. It overlooked a slope with some flowers and a small creek with a bridge crossing. He picked up a small canvas from the bag as well as the new inks and paint, then picking up one of the colors. The first stroke was slow, his gaze carefully determining the quality of the color, but once he'd gotten a feel of it, his pace quickened and his gaze alternated between the landscape and the canvas.

The sound of a voice startled him, the grass surrounding his sneakers withering dry, but he was quick to move towards it with his hand to regrow it while he turned his blue eyes to the girl who'd approached him. “Thank you.” He sent her a friendly smile before his gaze returned to his painting, a much more flowy and interpretative depiction of reality, but the ambiance of the sunny spring day was there. The hope. It was something he hadn’t been able to portray in pictures for a long time, having been lost and despairful most of his days on Earth. “Are you an artist yourself?” he asked as he looked back at her, having not met someone who shared this interest on Earth yet, but either way, he appreciated the compliment. And the company. He’d not exactly had many opportunities to meet people since he’d left Maelle and his friends amongst the fallen angels.

“You’re welcome to join me,” he lowered his gaze from her to the empty spot next to him, hoping she had more time to spare. “I'm Zach,” he introduced himself as he looked back up at her. A smile appeared in his expression as she’d confessed to writing poetry. He’d always admired people who could write, having spent much of his life reading. He’d mostly read poetry in Heaven from angelic writers since he’d yet to explore more of the art created on Earth, but perhaps she could help recommend something in that regard. “Do you live here in Aston?” he asked, genuinely interested to know more about her. Zachary considered studying art at the University of Aston, so he wanted to get to know more people from the city. If anything, he just longed to learn more about life on Earth and he thought studying at the university would at least help distract him from the horrors that went around in his family.  

“I play the violin and piano as well.” He thought it slightly surreal to have her approach him in this way, not only appreciating art but also showing an affinity for music and poetry. It was safe to say he had a feeling that they could become good friends. He turned his eyes from her to the painting again, trying to think of when the interest took off, but in all truth, he’d painted for as long as he could remember. One of his oldest memories was a time where the maid had gotten so horrified at all the paint that he’d splattered across the floor and the furniture in his room as a child. That memory immediately brought a faint smile to his lips. “It’s been more than a hundred years,” he replied as he returned his eyes to her, not realizing that he might have just revealed that he was far older than what he appeared to be. Of course, this only really posed a problem in the case of her being unaware of the supernatural.