[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180604/1636ec57503adbf9564ed4402f44346d.png[/img]
[sub][b]Location:[/b] Shiganshina District, Wall Maria[/sub][/center][indent][hr][color=1F3579]"Looks good to me,"[/color] Angel muttered to himself as he shaded away at his sketch pad, his hand moving his charcoal pencil swiftly across the paper. The young man sat out along the side of his house, his back against the parallel stone wall of the neighboring house, with his [i]abstract[/i] drawing of the flower garden his mother had planted. The petals of the flowers were more rectangular than rounded, making for an interesting perspective on the aesthetics of the garden as a whole.

The budding artist hoped and prayed his take on the garden would please his parents as it brought uniqueness to what he found to be a plain and simple sight. But the voice inside of his head already knew what was going to come out of his father's mouth, [i]"Why change what is already beautiful?"[/i]

That was Angel's problem as an artist. He wanted to believe in more than what was just in front of him because he believed that there was so much more in the world that people couldn't see. Straying from the concrete visions and sights that your eyes could see was a terrifying thought for the youngest Alba child though, as that meant that you would have to leave yourself vulnerable to be judged by the eyes of other's as to what you perceive. Angel was never going to do that.

"You shouldn't waste the charcoal pencils, Angel."

Angel's eyes wandered to the source of the voice, calling out to him. It was his brother Alphonse, an excellent artist in his own right and a hundred percent more talented than Angel in every way. Alphonse could create a picture so beautiful and realistic that praise was all Angel ever heard for his sibling who was only a year older.

[color=1F3579]"I'm just sketching, I don't see a problem with that?"[/color] Angel said, responding to his brother in a tone of defeat.

"You can't sketch if you can't draw." Alphonse said with a chuckle. "Leave the drawing to the real artists."

Alphonse was snobbish and rude, but he had a point that Angel had to agree with deep in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't a real artist and maybe he was just wasting the tools that his parents had gotten them for the [i]real[/i] artists of the family. But his parents expected something out of him and even if he was always disappointing them in regards to his art, Angel wasn't going to disappoint them in not trying. He was going to do what he was told.

Nodding his head, Angel flipped his sketchbook closed as he bit his lips, holding back what he truly felt. With a deep breath in and a heavy exhale out, Angel returned to his brother a cheerful, phony smile. [color=1F3579]"Maybe you can teach me sometime and I could become as good as you?"[/color]

Before his brother could respond with his own witty remark, shouts were chanted in the air about the return of the Survey Corps. Both of the brother's eyes rotated to the direction of the commotion, with Angel of course having more interest than Alphonse. The Survey Corps were full of the brave and courageous, something Angel was going to have one day in order to become a better artist and person. That is what he believed.

[color=1F3579]"Here,"[/color] Angel said, handing his brother the charcoal pencil he was using. Alphonse returned a smug look as Angel walked off, darting in the direction of the welcoming of the returning Survey Corps.

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