[ Both. Both free of the ash, and somewhere plenty different. Delsin doesn't know how lucky he is in comparison, even though he would definitely consider himself pretty lucky. Fortunate to be aware of the wrongs in the world, to be free enough and able to express what he can see. Send a message.
And so he does. As he takes the first stencil down and tapes the second in place, he catches her mixing spray paints into finger paint, and grins. Unconventional. Probably blasphemy to some people, in fact, but you gotta do what you gotta do and apparently she really wants that orange. Why not, right? Everyone starts somewhere.
But then he's grabbing the black can and shaking it up, the familiar rattling sound practically music. This layer is less work than the first.
As he takes it down, the white, indistinct person-shape has become someone in a space suit, a leash in hand apparently attached to... something. That something still needs work. But he nods, pleased with it, even though the paint is running in places. ]
no subject
And so he does. As he takes the first stencil down and tapes the second in place, he catches her mixing spray paints into finger paint, and grins. Unconventional. Probably blasphemy to some people, in fact, but you gotta do what you gotta do and apparently she really wants that orange. Why not, right? Everyone starts somewhere.
But then he's grabbing the black can and shaking it up, the familiar rattling sound practically music. This layer is less work than the first.
As he takes it down, the white, indistinct person-shape has become someone in a space suit, a leash in hand apparently attached to... something. That something still needs work. But he nods, pleased with it, even though the paint is running in places. ]