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━━━ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ━━━
The day before we were to leave for the demon meeting, Akaza had informed me that it would most likely be around a three days journey before we would arrive.
I hadn't been surprised by that fact; for the remainder of the next day—in which Akaza insisted training was not necessary—I'd already grown completely bored out of my mind. There was hardly anything to do inside this cramped home.
I eyed my set of paints—the only source of colour in this damned home aside from the demon who owned it.
A part of me regretted the purchase—regretted ever informing Akaza about such a sensitive part of me. Painting, drawing... it was all that side of myself that I'd instinctively learned to push down from the very minute my mother introduced me to Japan's Master of Assassins.
I had hours to spare before we had to disembark. Hours in which I wasn't even sure what Akaza was doing with his spare time. Knowing him, he was probably off killing whatever men he could find by means of distracting his over-worrying mind.
I scanned the colour-coded vials in the corner of my room, the delicate hand-crafted canvases perched up against the plain wall.
I didn't want Akaza to worry over what was to come. His pacing and mumbling's the past few days have increased my own anxiety over the matter; causing me to rethink what was truly to come forth for the two of us.
I wasn't worried about the demons. Despite Akaza's constant lectures and information he forced into my distant mind, I'd begun to realize none of that truly mattered much to me. Sure, they could kill me without a single breath... but what scared me most now—was Akaza.
I could tell from the way he spoke of his... comrades—that he wasn't entirely fond of them. Each time he informed me of his group of Upper Ranks, his words had been clipped, sharp, and to the point. Almost as if a deep routed hatred was the source of it all.
I hadn't pushed him about it—not wanting to cause the demon any more fret than he already had.
But still... the questions nagged at me. Along with the worry that grew along with it.
I made my way over to my new supplies.
Oh—how I'd loved to paint.
After joining the Assassin's, that creativity and time had been ripped from underneath me. I'd shoved it deep down into a place that I figured would never surface again.
