She placed her hand on the paper. The setting sun cast a harsh shadow over her arm and distorted on the wall. Her skin was nearly as pale as the table; spider veins crisscrossed down her arm and disappeared. She lifted her palm upwards and dragged her fingers sideway, away from the window.
Naminé smiled.
She felt like rainbows were flowing from her fingertips and she loved every second of it. The power she felt was unimaginable. She controlled her own little world and could make the sky purple, the grass orange and the people a lime green and it would still be beautiful. She anticipated every stroke of the brush, every dash of a pen, with such lust that she couldn't stop at one and just needed more, more.
"What are you doing, little bird?"
Axel had his hand on the door. Light fluttered in streams around him.
Naminé looked down at herself. Her hands looked like a palette threw up across her knuckles. She had a large spot of yellow on her hip that was topped with green. She felt drying paint crack on her face and her knee was covered in purple.
She blushed. "Finger painting."
Witten with "Hot Air Balloon" by Owl City.
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