Painting with friends

Another lesson to attend. She wasn’t sure why they had bothered to make her go to these things. Did she really need these skills? She didn’t buy Oleander's story for one moment. That slaves got educated and worked their way up through the ranks. That smelled like bullshit to her.

She crept slowly and carefully into the room, and sank grateful down onto one of the pillows laid out by the tables. Painting. That was… that was for Ladies. Not slaves. Had she entered the wrong class? Well, she was here now, and she wasn’t moving. Besides, those colors were really pretty… she’d never had something pretty before.

She carefully picked up the paintbrush, and got to work wetting paint. She picked blue, and wiped it haphazardly across the paper.


"Speech"