It sucked. It just sucked. That was all it did. It sucked. Oh yeah, it would probably serve its purpose. She had painted it so it would be pretty for Rina’s benefit; a ‘sorry I tranq’d your ass without asking first’ kind of thing. Except she wasn’t really sorry for tranquilising her. She was mostly sorry she’d gotten caught. With a gun. Pointed at her. She was slowly adding to the trauma on the shoulders of an angel who obviously had the motherload of PTSD and she was… painting her a pretty picture. The picture doesn’t suck. I suck. Darklis was right up to here in self-dislike (hate was such a strong word) for the time being and she was mostly okay with that. As long as the painting worked. Since the portrait of Neil had freaked Rina the hell out – That’s what I get for providing irrefutable proof I’ve been in her nightmares. – the Azraelan had gone for a completely different kind of subject matter. Landscape. Or, more accurately, dreamscape. Because what she had painted was a physical impossibility and may well have been what the brighter side of many Disney movies would have looked like if Escher and Salvador Dali had been in charge of the animation department. It was beautiful on an acid trip – which yes, Darklis classed as just ‘pretty’. She preferred the beauty in her art to come with a sharp twist in the gut, but it was all down to personal preference.
Lying on her back in the middle of the unfurnished spare bedroom, Darklis had her legs crossed at the ankle and was holding the finished canvas at arm’s length above her head while she scrutinised it. No, okay, she’d done reasonably well as far as she could tell. Nice dreamscapes really weren’t her forte. But now? Now she just needed to… give it to Rina. Which required going downstairs and actually handing it to her. Face to face where she could be shouted at for gunning her down. Into sleep. This was something she had been putting off for several hours. Long enough to have needed to sneak a flask of blood into the room she had chosen to paint in over her own studio – why? Because her studio inspired nothing nice. Now, though. Now was a good time to—Here comes Trouble. In the very literal sense, as given away by the kitty scent and the very light padding of tiny paws that she could feel through the floor. There was also someone else in the house. Hm. That needed investigation, maybe. The Azraelan didn’t grudge Rina visitors at all. She was actually more concerned about whether or not they would be at all comfortable around a vampire. Staying upstairs a while longer would have looked like a far more reasonable option were it not for the fact that she didn’t think Trouble would let it be. Besides… it was her house. She’d go downstairs if she liked. Or something.
With one arm holding Trouble and the other carrying a canvas – That can wait if she has a visitor. – Darklis made her way across the landing and down the stairs as soundlessly as she could given her choice of footwear. That voice was really rather excitable. So was the person, if her empathy was anything to go by. Almost unconsciously, she pressed her lips together the way she did in school when the students got uncomfortable around her. A lot of people said they had no problems with vampires when, really, they did. And it showed if they blanched when the fangs emerged. Bubbly blonde alert. Not necessarily a bad thing, but Darklis got the tiniest feeling Rina was bringing her work home with her. “Hey, um—Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Yes she did. Kind of. Well, no. She just wanted to see what was going on. And stuff. Looking between Rina and… the bubbly one wasn’t really helping. “I’ll just grab my—” Breakfast? Lunch? Dinner? What time is it? “—flask and get out of your hair.” Oh. Wait. The cat. Awkwardly turning back on her heel so she was actually interacting with Rina instead of just running for cover like she had never meant to do to begin with, Darklis offered the familiar over. “Your bundle of fluff found me…” So much for a non-awkward getaway.