who could ask for anything more

OLIVER

Within the eye, mysteries of the soul burn deeply beneath the fiery chasms of love

and patiently wait for an awakening

Settling himself into a nice, cozy corner with his coat draped over his shoulders, Oliver had turned a flat plank of wood into a hard surface. Earlier when he tried to get some drawing in he got a bit...distracted. After everything that happened Oliver knew he needed a healthy way to distract himself. What better way than to get some drawing in...or something.

As much as he wanted to learn something new, he remembered the words that a particular man had said to him. That he should worry more about surviving. So, rather than trying to take on a new form of art, Oliver had settled on drawing. It was something quick, easy, and if something were to go wrong, he could chuck it to the side and get to...whatever surviving entailed.

Obviously, Oliver was still very disheveled. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was an absolute mess. Whether it was an attractive mess or not was up to the others, but Oliver wasn't too happy with how he looked. His body ached and at this point, he was missing the cold. To feel anything, the cold of the snow, the heat of the sun, or really anything that wasn't exactly the same. To not be trapped indoors for hours on end.

His drawings had started out with care, but after an hour or so of actually trying, he had started to goof around. He was currently working on a flower with an absurd amount of petals, merely adding more and more as time went on. Clearly, he was sleep deprived, bored, and falling apart a small bit.