Who Knew Anger Wasn't the only Source of Inspiration? (Solo)

[Wart]

55th Summer 512 Somewhere up in the sky, some sun God was angrily beating down on Zeltiva. Wart shielded her eyes against the irritating heat. Having grown up in Avanthal, every day in Zeltiva felt hot to her. This was the reason for her minimal dressing. But this? This was simply madness. Her shirt was tied up so that it revealed her slim stomach and made her look unnaturally feminine. She wore her usual shorts, and as always her boots and toolbelt. If she could choose she'd be spending the day either inside or swimming out in the bay somewhere. Unfortunately the bay had birds. And inside she was running out of color inspiration. She knew many colors, had experimented with different mixes and combinations and shading. But she was getting to the point where she was getting tired of it all and desperately needed something new, something entirely different. She'd been wandering aimlessly around the city since early morning. In her left hand she had a brush out and ready, all of her paints in her belt open, and in her right hand was a palette of sorts. Realistically, it was just a chuck of wood torn off of a tree smoothed with a bit of rock. But for her it was a notebook, where she would "record" each color she discovered by re-creating it with her paint. It gave her a chance to try mimicking the color on the spot and a reference for using the color in the future. The heat though had been really getting to her and she hadn't gotten many colors onto the palette. There was a woman with a jeweled necklace, who, after quite a bit of convincing (and forcing herself to ask nicely to keep from scaring her off) stood there to let Wart get down the color. It was a pretty sort of blue-green, but she didn't quite like how it turned out as the woman had decided to rush her and she ended up shouting and scaring her off anyway. She didn't realize it but she had wandered into one of the "upper class" neighborhoods closer to West Street. She personally detested the area and the people in it, the stuck up pricks who always thought they were better than everyone else. But the buildings were a big bigger, houses taller, and they offered at least of bit of shade so she resigned herself to walk through, for now.

[Wart]

It seemed that most people had the sense to stay out of the heat, so the street was quite empty. Of course the occasional snob was unavoidable, and Wart got plenty of dirty, disapproving and even distrustful scowls that she very enthusiastically returned with faces of her own, often accompanied by the finger. Stupid vagiks, you'd think they'd made walkin on a petchin street illegal. The shade from the houses offered some relief though, and she was able to get her mind back into what she'd come looking for. As she continued it seemed that some of these pompous jerks were actually useful for something. Many yards and walls were covered in useless decorations of some sort or another, many obviously having been imported. A lot of these were of very interesting colors or combinations of them, some that you didn't necessarily ever see in the city. One house in particular had a very exotic looking colored glass figure in front of it. Walking right up Wart quickly began taking down some of the colors, mixing and blending her paints to replicate what she saw. A little sheen of white and cyan had to be added as well, to capture the shine that really made it. Once satisfied she reached a hand out lightly touched the figurine. There was a certain fragile beauty in glass sculpture that she always admired. As she began to pull away, something behind, or rather, from her angle, through it, caught her eye. A bright burst of orange and yellow. Stepping to the side she saw it more clearly. It was a flower, hanging over from behind the house. But this wasn't just some plain old droopy flower she'd seen growing in those little plant pots at her neighbor's house. It went from a deep reddish orange, to orange, to yellow. And it was absolutely magnificent. Giving no regard, as usual, to the concept of personal property, she made her way across the side and right to the back of the house.