The line doesn't help, she thinks, just makes things more readily apparent. Where she ends and he begins. Her glance at Terezi is quick, she doesn't want to do this and it's obvious in her eyes. This won't solve anything. Painting never solved anything, not little things like wriggler disputes or the big things like making a difference when the world is wrong or saving a relationship that had never started.

Her eyes flit back down to the line where the Intiate is already settled down, color spreading over the floor in front of him. This is so ashen it hurts and she wants to leave, she doesn't want that quadrant with either of them, even if this is just Terezi trying to fix things. It makes her bristle somewhere deep down because it's wrong, not what she wants at all.

She forces that down, takes a seat and a piece of chalk. She doesn't speak or look at Terezi, making her displeasure at this piece of nonsense known. The first thing she draws is a club and then she carefully wipes it away, turns further and starts sketching.