my whole life is mine, but whoever says so will deprive me,
for it is infinite.
Amun didn't know why he'd thought going to the Artist's Sanctuary would help him with his ongoing grief over Maea's death. After staring at a blank canvas for an indeterminate amount of time, he'd finally sighed. Apparently, his muse was still gone.
Instead, he'd gone to check the art supplies. They were running low on purple paint, so he'd gotten out the blues and the reds. It wasn't the best way to make purple, but he didn't have anything better on hand. Still, he hesitated before he began to mix them.
It was almost a relief when Sam showed up. "No, sorry, I don't know where Bastien is. Or Rexanna." The potter's voice was subdued, and he made no move to flirt or tease, or anything of that sort. He just waved away the bookmaker's apology. "It's alright. What did you need?"
Instead, he'd gone to check the art supplies. They were running low on purple paint, so he'd gotten out the blues and the reds. It wasn't the best way to make purple, but he didn't have anything better on hand. Still, he hesitated before he began to mix them.
It was almost a relief when Sam showed up. "No, sorry, I don't know where Bastien is. Or Rexanna." The potter's voice was subdued, and he made no move to flirt or tease, or anything of that sort. He just waved away the bookmaker's apology. "It's alright. What did you need?"
by being moved I exert my empire,
making the dreams of night real
AMUN
