Eve had been exploring, a little bit adrift in that big, humongous, impossible ship. It was supposed to be full of people, but so far she hadn't had the luck to meet anyone, she only saw them from afar.
That was, until she entered some room in some deck - she had lost track - and saw a girl, probably her age, painting; or rather, admiring her own work from a new perspective.
Eve stood behind her, unsure of what to think of the painting. Landscapes and sceneries were not her thing, neither were watercolors; she loved the romantics but adored the abstracts, and didn't make sense of what she painted, ever. Lines, dots, blots, shapes made their own order in what seemed very much like chaos, and Eve understood them all.
Still, it was a good painting, no doubt, pleasant to the eye and to the soul. Eve smiled, but didn't move from behind the artist.