How long they sat there in relative silence, painting with only the general din of Coruscant's underbelly for external company, Arcturus could not say. He barely looked up from his canvas, and when he did it was only to make sure he had not somehow missed her departure. Not that he would keep her here, of course, she was her own entity and all things must come to an end. It was simply... nice to know.
Though his canvas might have appeared as something of a mess to any passersby, he had placed meaning behind each of the present strokes. Save for the slip up, of course, when he'd almost scrapped it entirely. But even that told a story. Time stretched on, and soon he was running out of paint and room on the canvas.
He set it aside, stretched out his limbs like some gangly, gaunt cat, and then rose with a popping of joints. It was crazy how easily one could watch a morning drift by. Even a morning as somber as this.
"Thank you," he stated, in sincerity. Picking the canvas back up, he approached her with it and set it down by her knee. "This is for you..." A brief pause, in case she had anything to say on the matter, then he turned and faced his surroundings. Not quite sure where it was his feet had even brought him to, but willing to unearth more of it now. Maybe he'd even manage a few steps before the dread sank in on him once more. Maybe he'd turn a few blocks before the grief became too much.
But she'd given him a morning of peace. That was more than he ever could have expected.
With little fanfare, the boy began to walk away. Maybe he'd see her again some day, maybe not. Either way he wouldn't fast forget her.
As for the painting, it was awash with the yellows of hay, and the greens of fresh meadow grass,
Ishani Dinn
incarnate scored across each stroke. And yet dotted throughout, in smaller yet all the same impactful and abstract smatterings, a cornflower blue which was something akin to Iris' own eyes.
