[your paint sinks into the wall as if it had always been there. the process of applying your will to the space around you with your keys is more familiar, now; it's not the same effort of mere imagination as it was in the cloud realm, but this is still a power you can access.

whatever you left feels like a rebuke, a message to see through even the haze of noise and feathers and listen to. get a sense that this disruption of the white in the room will at least last for a long time. . .]