The Painthouse

393 AC - Bubbles floats under the glass roof, and it looks like his fins are caressing the sky. It's like we're in an aquarium. Everyone says he's my Chimaera, but Bubbles is much more than that. He's my confidant, my friend, my reflection. He's the one I talk to about getting bullied at school. He's the one I hold in my arms when I have something on my mind. And that'll never change. I look at the statue that my father recently sculpted. And I know he'll frown when he sees that my fishy-fish has been rubbing up against it. But I also know that he's used to the mess we make. He'll sigh, maybe scold Bubbles a bit, and then that will be that. All right, just a few more brush strokes. I need to finish my painting.

The sky. The clouds. The flying islands. I add movement to my painting to make it look more alive. I went through my ukiyo-e phase, and then my impressionist phase. Fauvism is what interests me now, although Art Nouveau and Klimt are increasingly catching my eye. It would be cool to paint portraits of Exalts now that we're going to be part of the group. That's what the Matriarch told us when we arrived at the City of Scholars. I suddenly notice that the sky has gone dark above us, and I make some garlands bloom over our heads. I wonder where Dad and Mom are, then remember that they've gone off to help the circus by putting makeup on the clowns, pierrots and harlequins. Cool, that means Bubbles and I will get some alone time.

NADIR