Everyone's a (art) critic...

He was back.

God help him, he was back.

After his little hedonistic walk-about, Mat had eventually slunk his way back to the mansion, tail between his legs. No troubles getting back in, and so far Mat had yet to run into anyone he was trying to avoid. No sign or sight of Kealey and Agnes. That was a good thing. No Andrew or Gemma, too, for which Mat had no complaints. He had managed to settle back into the mansion's pace without garnering any real attention. Even the wall he had destroyed and hastily fixed had been repaired, no visible sign of Mat's intervention. Deciding that keeping his head down was the best way to get along in this place, Mat had spent the last week lurking to the sides, not bringing any attention to himself, not interacting with anyone. Only observing.

And he was bored out of his mind.

The itch to be active, to do something had gotten the better of him. Being incognito was a dull affair, and with all the watching Mat had been doing recently, his creative urge was bursting to escape. So he had decided to to some sculpting.

He figured this would be his compensation to the mansion, for all the art his golem had destroyed. In all the nooks and crannies of the mansion he could find, Mat was leaving behind a piece of memorabilia. A scene from Mat's memories, recreated in perfect detail. Statues of various students, at study, at play, at rest. Mat placed them all around the mansion in secret, drawing no attention to himself. After a while, students began to notice the new additions, flocking around them and speculating on their origin. It was all very amusing to Mat.

And despite everything, it felt great to create again. To bring forth the beauty Mat saw, in creations of stone, and glass, and steel. He had spied an adorable looking gargoyle girl the other day, and made a creation of her perched on the banister of the stairwell, her concrete smile looking down into the main foyer. He had left a scene of a mutant basketball game on the court, each player visibly mutated. The older teens, the small kiddies, Mat left effigies of many he had spied in his return.

And now, his masterpiece.

Mat had scouted a patch of green marble floor in some kind of living room in the mansion, set aside from the main one. A spare one, he guessed. One image sprung to mind when Mat laid eyes on the mossy shade of the stone. A girl he had met once, then met again just a week or so ago. Though, she had spent a lot of time in her 'natural' pink hues that night, trying to hide her emerald skin. A girl who had been nothing but kind to Mat since he had met her, one of the few since he had come to the city. A girl who, if Mat was honest with himself, fascinated and infatuated him. Whose sweet innocence washed away the grime of the world, of his life.

A girl who reminded him of his friends. Mat smiled, imagining what Trip, and Downpour, and Pockets, and Bloom would make of the timid green gorgon.

Mat's hand inched to his pocket, to the stone flower that rested inside. He had accidentally left it in his room when he fled from the mansion, and was relieved to find it still where he'd left it. When he had seen Andrea at that pub, Mat's heart had nearly broken at the thought that he'd lost the flower forever. His gift from Andrea. Her artistic masterpiece.

So, with a slap of his hands on the cold marble, Mat willed Andrea's image to his mind. The marble began to stir, before a delicate hand sprouted forth. Pulling free from the stone, a green and white marble version of Andrea stood up. She looked the way she had looked when first saw her, wrapped up in a raincoat and scarf, Sloth draped across her neck, the other snakes nestled in her hair, her hands clasped together nervously. Her expression was that innocent, shy smile that always amused Mat. He could imagine the golem blushing brown, and chuckled at the thought. The sculpture brought a lonely pang, like always. A desire to see someone he cared about.

Andrea, Mat realised, was the only person he could really consider a friend in this country.

Standing back, Mat admired his craftsmanship and detail, memories of being hugged by a snake running through his mind.