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| A small hand flew with some grace across the blank, smudged sheet of white. Eyes of the lightest hue of grey were caught against the off-white paper that was now tainted with sure strokes of ebony. It was a small drawing on a ripped piece of paper the sixteen year old had salvaged, yet it took the ink in well. As a body, wing, beaks and claws were worked in, the random harsh lines began to take shape. A snow owl. At her arrival, Ysanna had caught sight of the creatures. Filing the image in her mind for later use, she had smiled then. Brow furrowed, the girl was placing the mental image back onto paper. The Inner commons were silent and empty, bar the scratching of pen ‘pon paper, and the colourless girl. Seated against a wall, she was contently absorbed within her pen, paper, and photographic memory. Pale digits fiddled with the pen imprisoned, raising it to rose lips. Chewing quietly on the pen lid fastened safely against the pen top, Ysanna dug into her memory for that image - what was she missing? |