She lives to see the sun,

and feel the wind,

and drink the rain.

-Lord Huron

***

I shouldn't have done it.

I told Lilah I didn't want dinner.

Told her I was tired.

That I would skip it.

Atlas let me.

Probably because of my panic he saw earlier.

But I really just wanted to paint.

I laid out the canvas and supplies, gathering everything together.

And then stared.

White met me in my thoughts.

There was only one thing I wanted to paint.

One person.

And so I did.

The whole night I stayed up.

Because I needed an escape.

To forget.

'Black Moon.'

I always titled his paintings 'Black Moon.'

A knock came upon my door.

And then another.

Then loud swearing.

"Lexie if you don't open this door, I will break it down."

I pause when I hear Atlas's voice.

"I'm...coming."

I open it a crack, not letting him have access to view the room.

To view my work.

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes there is a problem." His eyes speak murder as he glares down at me.

I feel my lips tremble from the gaze and see his eyes dart down to stare before he tears them away.

"Breakfast has past. You missed it. I told you the time and you chose to spend it in your room. Now it's time for training."

"Training?"

"Yes, training."

I stare blankly at him, not really able to process the word.

"Right now?"

A low growl forms in Atlas's chest.

"Yes Lexie. Now."

I continue standing there, gaping and aghast to what he is telling me.

"But...I've just arrive?"

"So?"

I stand there, unable to come up with a better reason.

I don't want to tell him that in reality I've missed dinner, and breakfast and have not slept in two days. No doubt he would say this is all my own fault and I have no one else to blame but myself.

"I'll... be there. Just give me a second to change."

He nods and leans against the wall, his posture telling me clearly that he is going nowhere.

I close the door and try to take deep breaths.

Training.

I can do this.

I can train.

I look at the painting.

It's not yet finished.

I want nothing more than to stay inside and finish it.

But a small cough I hear from the hallway reminds me that that isn't an option.

I look in the mirror and groan.

Paint is everywhere.

I wonder why Atlas said nothing.

I scrub vigorously, trying desperately to get the mixture that has managed to stain my face, off.

Soon violent red spots are splashed across my face and neck.

There is no saving my hands.

It would take a good hour for me to clean them. And truth be told, the paint was better left on them.

I open the door and find Atlas in the same position that I had left him.

"I'm ready."

My voice sounds anything but ready.

It sounds small.

He looks up and down at my navy shorts and sailboat print shirt.

"Do you have...workout clothes?"

"These are workout clothes," I gesture down to my pants. "What's wrong with them?"

Atlas stares a few more seconds before shaking his head, "Nothing."

I smile, as we walk down the hall.

Without warning I flick up my feet, wheeling down upon my heels.

I hear a low groan from Atlas.

I don't know what made me so bold.

"Are you serious?"

I turn around and laugh, but stop when I find him smiling.

'Dark sunrise.' It's what I would name the painting.

Because his smile reminds me of a dark sunrise that you see in the early morning, when the sky is still black, but the blue is just starting to rise. Just starting to surface and show light.

It takes my breath away.

"How old are you?"

I pause at the question.

"19."

Atlas jerks his head down to me, eyes wide, "Are you serious?"

I shrug, waiting for him to reveal his own age.

When he doesn't I take a hesitant stab at it, "are you....twenty?"

Atlas glances down, his lips pressed thinly together, "23."

I look away. It's not a big age gap. I didn't see much of a problem with it.

Unless if he saw a problem with it.

If he thought he didn't want a mate that was so much younger than him.

We walk in silence. My stomach growls at the smell of the food, but Atlas ignores it.

I look over at the woman within the kitchen. I think Atlas told me her name was Sandra.

She gives me a knowing look, before throwing something at me.

I gasp, throwing my hands up to block my face.

I see from the corner of my eye though, Atlas's own hand reach out and grab something.

He pauses before handing me a small breakfast bar.

"Um....thank you."

He shrugs, turning to walk out the door.

I hear Sandra's laughter following us out.

"When was the last time you trained?"

I'm struggling to eat and catch up to him at the same time.

Atlas doesn't pause though.

"...What do you mean?"

He turns to me, his eyes critical as he takes me in.

"You didn't even try to catch that." I guilty look down at my breakfast bar. "And you are already out of breath, just trying to walk fast with me."

I look around at the scenery. At anything but his disapproving face.

"I think...when I was 13."

"What."

That one word has me looking down, my eyes wide.

"Your pack didn't train you?"

"Well um..." I don't know how to explain to him that they had let me off the hook. That the Luna had allowed for me to stay away and not train.

I hear Atlas swear under his breath.

"At this rate, I can't even put you in with the beginners."

My shoulders slump. We haven't even made it to the training grounds and I've already disappointed him.

"Hold on."

I look up and see him pull out a phone from his pocket.

"What...what are you doing?"

Panic seeps into me.

He's going to call my pack.

Call and tell them there's been a mistake.

To come and get me.

And then I'll have to go back and face seeing father and my empty closet.

Face seeing the ashes of what once were my canvases. Now no more.

Atlas pauses as he presses the phone to his ear.

"I'm calling my father."

lol that line that Atlas says sounds like something Malfoy would say. It makes me laugh whenever I read it

/////WORLD_JOY_/////