Katja didn’t understand what was so important about sticking together, even though she didn’t exactly know the area well. She was starting to think it was a stupid idea to bring her along on this trip; she was old enough to sit at home by herself. She might even get some sculpting done while the nuisances were away doing heaven knows what. Sighing she stuffed one of her hands into the pocket of her
jeans and fixed the strap of her bag on her shoulder with the other. The best thing she could do was find a quiet place and finally draw in peace without someone over shoulder giving her compliments. Its not like she needed them, she knew she was a good artist. Still Russia was country she wasn’t exactly familiar with and Astrakhan was even more foreign to her. Coming here was obviously a trap to get her to spend more time with her step mother, but Katja wasn't playing into it. Long gone was the scared girl who never wanted to leave the sanctuary of her home. Even that was mostly due to her not seeing it as a haven anymore, just a cold building she had to stay in for the next three years. Her stepmother seemed a bit disappointed that she left when her father left for a business meeting, and she knew that she would be confronted when she got home.
The possibility of that deterring her from escaping the happy family facade currently going on back the place her father and step-mother were saying at was slim to none. She finally found a park bench and a scene worth painting, everything here was fascinating. Although that word was only used to describe anything she could or wanted to draw, it wasn’t something she used a lot. The peaceful stability of everything she drew seemed to center her but after the first couple of years thing stop becoming fascinating and start becoming breath taking. Every time she finished a painting and stuck it to her wall a sense of pride filled her, and if she was telling the truth it was an addicting feeling. Her room walls were collages of painting and sketches that formed a timeline of her artistic journey through life. Katja didn’t even know what the phrase artistic journey meant but every great art gallery needed a concept or so she believed.
Sitting down on the park bench she took out her sketchbook and pencil and began to draw the outline of the shops and the people rushing about. Her hand glided gracefully against the white paper, a striking contrast to the long precise lines she was drawing. Her mind was blank, the tediousness of her task drowning all of thoughts and worries until they became a unpleasant echo in the back of her head. Nothing could destroy the serenity she had in this moment, at least that’s what she thought. She didn’t take into account that things had a habit of going wonky where she was concerned. It was miracle she didn’t turn into a pessimist.
Occ: sorry its so short >.< i was excited to play her and babysitting sugar high kids is a hassle.
