And hung from the rafters
The stratagem swings
Morgan had never been an artist.
When she'd first heard people were making lanterns for their dead she had immediately assumed it was not for her, something for people prone to sentimental bursts of creativity, something she'd never associated herself with. Yet after she'd heard the idea she'd found she couldn't put it down.
Maybe it was talking to Loren about her father, maybe it was the period of great change they were living in...something made her mind kept returning to the idea of making something to honour his memory. It had been years now and she knew the strain in her chest every time she heard a mention of him would not ever entirely disappear, but maybe doing something to help it could ease the pain just a little.
In Snowcloak there were a few small market stalls where she could buy the base to paint on. She chose something simple, a metal frame with thick paper sides. For a while she stared at it, unsure of what to paint or draw...not that she had any confidence that whatever she tried would even look right. Eventually, deciding the best way to honour her father was with the land he loved, she bent down to pick up a little snow and held it against the paper, letting it soak in and stain it with the melting water.
Stood in the corner of the markets, holding snow to her lantern, she probably looked quite odd; for the moment she was entirely wrapped up in her task.
When she'd first heard people were making lanterns for their dead she had immediately assumed it was not for her, something for people prone to sentimental bursts of creativity, something she'd never associated herself with. Yet after she'd heard the idea she'd found she couldn't put it down.
Maybe it was talking to Loren about her father, maybe it was the period of great change they were living in...something made her mind kept returning to the idea of making something to honour his memory. It had been years now and she knew the strain in her chest every time she heard a mention of him would not ever entirely disappear, but maybe doing something to help it could ease the pain just a little.
In Snowcloak there were a few small market stalls where she could buy the base to paint on. She chose something simple, a metal frame with thick paper sides. For a while she stared at it, unsure of what to paint or draw...not that she had any confidence that whatever she tried would even look right. Eventually, deciding the best way to honour her father was with the land he loved, she bent down to pick up a little snow and held it against the paper, letting it soak in and stain it with the melting water.
Stood in the corner of the markets, holding snow to her lantern, she probably looked quite odd; for the moment she was entirely wrapped up in her task.
Born from the ashes
Of counterfeit kings
MORGAN
Base Code by Sky!
