[size=-3]Kitti and Ocha <3[/size] England, 1615; Richard Chandler The woman, she was the most beautiful creature that Richard had even seen. She could not possibly be real, he argued with himself. He must be going mad, for the woman was too ethereal and charming to exist in the same reality as he himself lived. Yet there she was, each day that he hurried from his home to the park, praying that she would be there and expecting her to have vanished. Each day, with his plain canvas, he painted her with the scenery ever changing. It frustrated Richard to no end, these paintings. No matter how hard he tried, he could never truly capture her as he saw her. The painting lacked the delicate wisp of her hair as it trailed from beneath the hem of her bonnet, or the perfect rose hue of her mouth curved in a gracious smile. Each painting that Richard had at home, however, merely compiled in his growing obsession with the woman. He would stare fondly at the pictures, refreshing him memory of each day with his once stark white canvases, now painted in gay colors with the summer and, as time progressed, the more somber tones of the approaching winter. Richard had stayed hidden, all the while, his courage waxing and waning as he struggled to meet the woman he had begun to love through his painting. She was not only beautiful, she was smart; one of his paintings captured her dipping her quill in ink to finish her letter. Talented, he had heard her sing to the birds when she thought herself to be alone... She was kind, offering others her seat. He loved her more than he could ever imagine loving another person. Today would be the day, Richard thought to himself, his hands free of his canvas and brushes in favor instead of a single white lily. Richard worked hard not to skip to her, equally as hard not to bolt away. She looked up at him as he approached and he dropped to one knee, his color rising on his face. Cheeks burning, he offered up the flower to the woman before him.