Lexie is not a warrior. In fact, Lexie is a painter. Her hands are always covered in paint. Never coming off. Always there. For Lexie, painting is an escape. An escape from her pain. She paints to avoid the darkness that is in her soul. She paints t...
I've never heard that word being applied to describe me.
I smile up at Lilah.
That same big smile I use that fools everybody.
It works as she smiles back down at me.
"There see? Nothing to worry about."
I nod, and turn around, still trying desperately to regain control of my emotions as I start pulling out different clothes from my closet.
It takes us less than an hour to pack everything.
"You can pick your favorite one," Lilah suggests. She's pointing to the pile of canvases.
I know which one already.
I shuffle through the stack and pull it out.
Lilah gasps, "Wow."
I smile, but there is real genuinity behind it.
I love this painting.
It took me weeks to finish it.
It was a picture of Mark's wolf, running through a red forest. The different shades of red all coming together; crimson, ruby, blush, scarlet and cherry.
And the blur of the amber shade of his wolf as it raises it's head to the rising sun.
It's a quick trip up and down the stairs.
The majority of the stuff is taken up with my supplies.
"Are you sure...I can take this?"
Lilah pauses as she lowers the box that holds my different acrylic paints.
"You can."
I don't say anything else.
A knock interrupts our work.
I open it to reveal Atlas.
"Everything is taken care of. All the documents have been signed."
I wonder vaguely how they could have been signed, if I wasn't there to sign anything, but then remember that they had control over this now. I had voiced aloud that I would go. That was enough consent.
Atlas pauses next to me.
We stand there, staring at each other.
I don't know what to say.
Don't know what to do.
He interrupts my thoughts though, when his eyes dart to the foot of the stairs in confusion.
"What is this."
Lilah stops in her work and looks up, "What's what?"
"This."
Atlas walks over and points to the different boxes that contains my paints and other supplies.
"Her art supplies."
Atlas glances at me before turning back to Lilah, "Art?"
"Ya dumb ass, haven't you heard of the fine arts?"
A low growl is heard from Atlas. I gulp, the sound audible as I slowly close the door and take in the scene.
"Lilah don't act like this in front of your Luna."
"I'm acting like this because it's my Luna."
They continue their standoff, each glaring at the other.
I take a deep breath, smoothing out my dress before stepping forward.
"Does your pack...not allow it?"
Atlas's attention snaps back to me.
His eyes roam up my figure, taking in my dress and flats. My hair clip.
"Wolves don't paint."
I nod. I already knew that. Wolfs didn't paint.
We trained. Hunted. Attacked and survived.
It was instinct. It was nature.
"Come on Atlas, it's just some paints, I don't see why everyone is freaking out about this."
Atlas turns to her, his blue eyes flashing.
Like fire.
Like blue fire.
I think of what colors I would use to paint.
What paintbrush I would start off with first
"Fine."
The single word has me gasping in relief, letting go of a pressure in my chest I had not even realize I was holding there.
He turns to me, eyes assessing.
"Thank you."
He doesn't say a word as he grabs a box and walks away with it, opening the door and carrying it outside.
"Don't worry," Lilah grabs a box as well, shifting the weight so that she can balance another one on top, "You'll be fine."
Part of me worries.
Worries because Lilah says this statement routinely every 10 minutes.
And I'm starting to realize that those words are not just meant as a reassurance for me.
They are said as a ringing chant, to reassure and remind herself.
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