Varshe seemed to have returned to his room at last, successfully. He had set up a "do not disturb" sign infront of it, to recognize his own door. He hated to admit it, but his sense of direction was the worst. 

He sat down on a wooden chair that was located infront of the painting canvas, right next to the window where he could gaze out of. Varshe picked up one of the painting pallets he left exposed to the air, whereas the paint had almost dried already. Varshe didn't seem to mind. He grabbed a thin brush, wet the brush with the remaining water on the pallet, and started painting. Quietly.. quietly.

[color=violet]"This is bliss",[/color] Varshe muttered the words to himself with a slightly honest expression. 

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