Chapter Eleven #2
“Hey,” a woman’s voice calls from behind me, and I swing around to face an artist sitting alone in the booth I’m currently crowding, an empty chair next to her. She’s smiling at me apologetically, her eyes creased behind her gold wire-rimmed glasses.
“God, I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to block your booth.”
“Oh no, that’s fine. I was just going to ask—are you all right?”
I’ve never been great at hiding my emotions. My face is a projector for whatever thoughts scroll through the inside of my skull. I can only imagine that currently, to everyone else, I look scowl-y, frustrated, and a little hurt. I try to relax. “Yeah, I’m good—just a change of plans.”
“Okay.” She gestures to the assortment of art prints, key chains, and stickers on display at her booth, her expression earnest, if a touch nervous. “Well, if you want to take a look, feel free.”
I’ve already spent my allotted con budget on the prints and crocheted owlbear plushie tucked under my arm, but at this point, it would be really fucking rude to walk away. I put on a smile and peruse her wares.
It takes me only a few moments to realize just how excellent her art is.
For the most part, her style is whimsical, bright, and colorful—reminding me of Mona—with a handful of moodier pieces in between.
Like most of the artists who sell at cons, she’s done a great job of catering exactly to the intended audience, with a wide variety of original art and fanart, including Star Wars characters, video game protagonists, D I pull my turtleneck closer to my ears. “No, they are not lovers. Vampires are evil. She’s trying to kill him.”
“Gale” shrugs, his teasing grin stretching his bearded face wide. “Shame.”
Sadie playfully swats at his arm before she passes the sketch to me. “Sorry about him,” she says in a tone so fond it’s not the least bit apologetic. “Here’s your sketch.”
Sindra grins up at me from the square of paper, looking infinitely more badass and self-assured than I’d ever imagined.
There’s a funny little tug at the base of my chest, like seeing her captured this way has made me feel more connected to her.
It makes me want to do her justice and get to know her better.
“Holy shit,” I murmur. I clear my throat, then laugh. “Wow, thank you so much—I love it.”
Sadie beams. “I’m so glad!”
Before I leave, I grab a few D&D class-themed stickers for my group—ranger, druid, paladin, wizard—and even a DM one for Wesley. I waffle on whether to get a DM one for myself, too, and eventually pluck a fighter sticker from the shelf instead. I pay for them and tip well for the sketch.
“Thank you again, and have fun on your trip.” I jerk my chin toward Sadie’s partner. “Nice cosplay.”
He bends forward in a little bow, smiling all the while, and Sadie offers me a friendly wave before turning her attention to a teenager dressed as a blue-skinned tiefling who runs up to the booth.
I trace my finger along the gold of Brightmorn’s blade on Sindra’s sketch before tucking the illustration carefully away.
I can’t wait to show the others.