It was freeing. Broad strokes, back and forth on the cave wall, thin lines emphasizing features, brown eyes and blue and green. Even something as simple as mixing colours calmed Marina down. There was something soothing in knowing that there was a colour somewhere out there that was perfect for the boy's hair, and that finding it was one tiny bit closer to having him there for real.
She had been working on this portrait of John Smith for ages. Marina was certain that he was a Garde, and the girl whose image had consumed her dreams, running away from a burning building, gazing at a map as rich foliage rushed past, was as well.
Maybe they knew each other. Maybe they met up. Maybe they weren't the only ones. Maybe all the remaining Loric were with them, Garde and Cêpan, except for her and Adelina. Maybe they would sweep in one day, straight into the convent, and be thrilled to meet her. She could be the last piece of the puzzle. They would leave this village, leave Spain, and travel the world. Adelina would come too, of course. John and the girl would convince her. Seeing them and the other Cêpans would remind her why they were there in the first place. To save their planet. They will defeat the Mogadorians, somehow, and find their ship and fly as quickly as they can back to Lorien. She might even pick up a set of paints beforehand, and a sketchbook, to recreate their journey.
Marina found herself painting a picturesque landscape. Lorien. In the very centre was a group of six. They weren't doing anything in particular, just lazing about and enjoying each other's company. A muscular boy with dark hair was nudging John in the side, pointing to the powerful looking girl who was fighting back a laugh. Marina herself was patiently teaching a stocky boy how to make daisy crowns, which adorned the heads of everyone in the group. The last figure was postively covered in the flowers, and he lay contentedly at everyone's feet, soaking up warmth from the sun.
Marina's eyes flicked over the painting, and she smiled.
