Summary: It’s hard to say goodbye.
NOTE: This is a very rough draft with no editing at all (per National Novel Wiriting Month rules) and is presented for amusement value only. Think of it as a periscope into my writing process rather than a coherent story!
There will most likely be spelling and grammatical errors afoot as well as flat out bad writing, info dumps, plot holes, contradictions/retcons, uneven characterization and pacing. These snippits are also posted out of order, so please refer to the Outline to figure out where it’s supposed to fit.
It’s a hard thing to lose your world when you can still see it.
He envy’s Red sometimes because at least his world is dead and gone. His world on the other hand is alive and well and he watches it sometimes through a door he’s not allowed to cross.
He’s not sure why he does it, sitting there in front of a threshold he can’t pass, but he comes back to watch the world go by without him.
The door is in the middle of a forest where not many people come, as the doors are wont to be, so there isn’t much to do but watch the seasons change.
He brings paints and canvas, traded for from other worlds that don’t mind letting him in, and he paints his forest.
White comes down some times and watches him paint, but she never says much beyond the habitual small talk that happens when people aren’t paying attention. He doesn’t mind her company, she has her own door and at least that he can understand.
And the seasons change.