Fresh, white canvas stretched on a square, precariously set at just the right angle to catch the most sunlight filtering in through the window. The easel it sat upon dull and in need of a few repairs. Yet it still stood after years of rough treatment by freshlings, juniors, even seniors. Soren had been using this one in particular since they were a freshling. Their fingers brushed over the notch they'd made in the wood towards the bottom. When they'd been almost too young to reach the canvas set on the frame they'd fallen and knocked their teeth against the wood, scoring it. Unwilling to let an inanimate object get the better of them, they'd stubbornly refused to use any of the other easels since then. Painting had always been relaxing, and they'd been praised for it since they were young. It was a hobby they returned to, time and time again.
Often enough that their friends had always gifted them with much beloved supplies. Often enough that they'd been held back because of late projects, late homework, late them, everything late late late. They'd watched as friend after friend had walked the stage, gotten their diploma's and left the academy. Watched as each of them entered their preferred college and succeeded.
Now it was finally time for them to walk across the stage. For them to join their preferred college, get their degree, succeed in life. The only problem: they didn't know what they wanted to do. They hadn't paid enough attention in class to find a subject they liked best, hadn't joined any clubs or found any interesting hobbies. There was just. . .painting.
A couple of their friends had suggested to go to Grendel for painting. To enter into showcases and try to sell paintings. But would it be enough? They'd been convinced to apply for Grendel, and pushed into submitting all the proper paperwork on time. Now it was just a matter of waiting to see the results. Even if they were accepted, they still had to find somewhere to stay while they attended.
They probably should find somewhere to work as well. Funny, it had never occurred to them to find something constant to support their painting habit, more than content to take on odd jobs if they really wanted something or use what the academy provided. Now they wouldn't have that to depend on anymore.
It would be difficult, living outside this campus. Making new friends, finding new places. Soren had lived here their whole life. It was such a strange thought, to be bereft of what home they had. Surely they wouldn't be able to come back if things went wrong. They didn't have a set of parents to ask for just a little bit of help. Just. . .themself.
And yet. There would be new things to paint, new people to meet, new sights to see and scents to smell. They could do it. The envelope with their acceptance or rejection was waiting for them to open it, they just had to gather the courage to see what it would be. Even if the result wasn't what they hoped, they had friends all over. They weren't in this alone. Not quite so forlorn now, they dipped their paintbrush into a new set of paint and began their final painting at the academy.
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