While walking through the Lady's Ward, Animus comes across an abandoned easel with a blank canvas on it. Apparently the artist had neglected to take it home. As he looks at the canvas, he remembers that his hands are healed. Pulling off his gauntlets, he looks down at the flawless skin of his hands and wrists, no longer bearing the scars from the torture he endured from the drow. He soon grinned when he realized something else. They're not shaking. The ghost pain is gone.
Without a thought, Animus adjusts the easel for his great height and sits down on the stool. Setting his back pack on the ground, he rumages through it and pulls out an art supply case and palette. He had purchased these right after May'iira had healed his hands. Setting the case on his lap and the palette on the ground, he opens the case, revealing six bottles of paint. Seeing as it is still dark and he only wanted to see how well his hands would perform, he only takes the primary yellow. Shaking the bottle up, he bends over and adds a small amount to his pallette, then places it back into the case and pulls out a brush.
Palette in his right, brush in his left, he dabs into the color and trusts to his dark vision in the night. With a smile, he gently moves the brush, only making simply shapes. Though a little awkward, he can't help but grin at how stable his hand is. After a few minutes more of practice, he lays the brush and pallette down and admires his work. Though looking little different than something drawn by a child, the fact he is able to draw un-jagged lines fills him with pride. Beaming, he proceeds to clean up and makes a mental note to replace the canvas for the forgetful artist. Once finished, he continues on his way to the bazaar.
A New Beginning
