The paintbrush went still as Proserpina studied the canvas. She’d done a lovely watercolor of a quiet little grotto, filled with water and flowers. Really, she should have been satisfied. Instead, she sighed and set the brush down. Spending her life in near seclusion with her beloved art simply wasn’t enough anymore. Frowning the nixie artist forced herself to look around her studio. It was only a small piece of her entire home. She was immediately struck by just how large her home was. And here she was rattling around like a loose berry in a cup.

“Face it, self,” she muttered as she set the canvas aside to dry. “You’re lonely. And even those charming little clowns you call pets aren’t enough anymore.”

Would it really be so bad to bring children into her home? At one point, she’d certainly thought so. But now…? Well, now the idea of small pattering footsteps and high, childish voices ringing out in laughter seemed rather nice. And if she was very lucky, there would be a child who might inherit her talent.

“Even if it didn’t, I think I would still love it,” she murmured as visions of a possible future spun itself out of gossamer and mist. Of course she would still love it. It would be hers.

Almost before she realized what she was doing, Proserpina was down the stairs and striding purposefully towards the door. She’d go to one of the clinics. They’d help her find someone that she could feel comfortable imbuing stones with. Once the door clicked shut behind her, the nixie realized that she was committed to her course.

It was a rather nice feeling.