This is where Maeve found her greatest inspiration. She was flitting around now, setting up her easel and paints hurriedly before she missed the sunset. Her flute fell out of her pocket and her paintbrush was tucked behind her left ear. She finished getting everything set up and quickly stopped, her hair swishing. She pulled her paintbrush from behind her ear and dipped it into the orange paint and then the red in one fluid motion, her eyes never leaving the scene of the sunset she could see through the vine covered arch.
...
Maeve smiled and stepped back to admire her painting. Little glowing orbs now floated around Sunset Hill, bathing it in a warm light. The painted depicted the sunset perfectly. Except, her painting was not like normal painting. If you watched it, you could see:
A soft wind rustling the leaves of the vines that cover the arch.
A lazy butterfly fluttering in and out of sight, as it had been while she was painting.
The sun slowly setting, causing the colors in the painting to change, casting deeper shadows on the ground. The wispy clouds in the sky slowly moving across the painting.
And if you watched long enough, you might see it all repeat.
Maeve's paintbrush, combined with her own magic allowed her to not just capture a moment in time, but to capture a small portion of time in her painting, causing it to seem alive. Her home was filled with these paintings, even one of Lord Brink as he was walking past her home one day.
Maeve however was not aware that this was unusual. She thought all artists' paintings were like hers, that they all could make it seem alive. She did not know she was wrong, because she never truly spoke to anyone. Because of this, she was unaware that she held a great magic within her.
