[ Sharon knows he has no interest in being bothered, likely has no interest in pointless or useless shows of gratitude, but Sharon finds herself outside the temple regardless, buckets of paint in her knapsack, along with brushes, papers, pencils, and charcoal. She doesn't say a single word as she gets to work on one of the temple corners. On occasion, she hums as she works, letting a verse slip out once every now and then as she tilts her head to change perspective. She can already feel the effects of being in his temple but fear is and has always been a staple in her life, so, as always, it's easily ignorable.
It takes a couple of hours for her to finish, starting first with the vague shape of something spider-like. The long legs soon have hands, hands that grasp at the heads of mannequins, and then their faces take on detail; there's horror in their eyes by the time she's finished, mouths ajar, long body part splitting and broken, bloodied and hungry for a new head.
She adds a few additional shadows, a few more details to make it appear as if it's ready to crawl right out of the wall and then she's done.
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It takes a couple of hours for her to finish, starting first with the vague shape of something spider-like. The long legs soon have hands, hands that grasp at the heads of mannequins, and then their faces take on detail; there's horror in their eyes by the time she's finished, mouths ajar, long body part splitting and broken, bloodied and hungry for a new head.
She adds a few additional shadows, a few more details to make it appear as if it's ready to crawl right out of the wall and then she's done.
This is her gratitude. ]