Paintbrush poised in hand, Ryden swept it against the canvas, blotting the color against the stark white surface. He bit his lower lip in concentration as he created the lines, ignoring the stupidity going on around him. How immature did people have to be? One would think Slytherins would have greater control over such childish antics. Flatly ignoring one guy, Ry continued to paint, the skulls coming to life by this point. Well, more like undead life. He neglected eyes on the skulls, mouths sown up with red wiring. Below the skulls, he drew skeletal hands reaching out and holding bleeding gaping eyes. The blood dripped in rivers towards the bottom of the artwork.
When he was satisfied with the effort, he sat back on the stool a little bit. The painting sitting in front of Ryden was disturbing to say the least. The black and red colors stained the tips of Ry’s fingertips as he signed the bottom with his name, smiling a little bit, which was a massive feat. He didn’t even notice when the boys fled the common room and Juliet stepped inside. But this was nothing peculiar, Ry often fell into his own world when he started in on his artwork. He was overly pleased with the work, actually. Not that anyone else would get it. They never did. However, no one got him either, something he preferred. People were a burden if nothing else.
Turning around on the stool, Ry’s mouth fell right open. “When the hell did you get here?” He hadn’t heard a single word she had uttered. Looking her up and down, Ry smirked, very oblivious to her distress. “You look like shit by the way.” Getting up, Ry stretched, scratching his stomach, getting the paint colors smeared there too. Not that he cared at all. Ry was one of the least vain people ever. He just didn’t care what he looked like. Flopping on his bed, Ry yawned. “Why are you even here? I don’t care but I was going to take a nap before dinner.”