Chapter .20.

Some people are artist.  Some themselves, are art. ***  I wake up to find myself resting in a bed. My bed. The familiar smell of paint and oils hit me, letting me know I'm in a safe place. What isn't familiar though is the figure in the corner. "A...Atlas....," He turns his head, looking away from my painting for a brief moment, to turn and face me. "Is this me?" I blush, completely mortified, that he's caught me painting him. "Yes...," It's obviously him. He steps closer, and closer, making me scoot further into the frame of the bed. "I didn't realize...that you were this good." I look away from his face. The room is dark, but I'm able to make out the faint glow from his eyes. There is a vauge trace of shining gold from his wolf. "Thank you," I whisper. He's standing before me, looking down at me. His chaos consuming me as he takes another step closer. Surely he can't get closer. But he proves me wrong as he softly sits