Nirvana stood at the edge of the easel like an intruder, her eyes fleeting over the room without a second to pause as if she wasn’t quite sure where to really look and decided to take everything in at once. Severin didn’t invite her in, he just went to sit on the stool placed in front of a half-painted canvas. Nirvana couldn’t see what kind of painting was underway from where she stood, her eyes could only focus on the jars of paints of different colors. The cans were placed with accurate precision and there wasn’t too much of a mess, but Nirvana expected as much. Severin had told her that he was painting when Nirvana interrupted him, yet there wasn’t any clue to prove that fact on his body, not even when he told Nirvana and she actively searched for any clue she might have missed. There was a single wall in the room dedicated to painting he did himself. Strange, abstract, still, cold, emotionally turbulent works, but most of them were unlabeled. “Did you do all these paintings by
Last Updated : 2025-08-05 Read more