Kit Church was...an enigma. In The Saint Thomas Academy of Art's Oil Painting department, he was simply...the best.

Despite every weird method he had, despite every single drop of attention he absolutely did not pay in class...he still managed to come out of every weekly ranking, without a doubt, utterly and undeniably on top. His paintings were fantastic.

He offends people all the time and sleeps in clothes, but everyone lets him get away with it because of how magnificent his paintings are!

Kit was above all that though. He didn't care about his superiority- didn't even see it. That was why he drew so often. Because, in his dull blue eyes, his art...was always so drab.

Currently, he sat on the edge of a bridge long after classes had concluded.

"No, that's not right...there's nothing here...nothing going on in the sky." Kit speaks quietly to himself, tilting his head to look down.

Down...down into the river below. It was always the same blue. The same dull shade of boring blue in a boring town he couldn't leave. He wasn't even sure why he bothered looking anymore, honestly.

But then? A small gust of wind blew by. And it carried...a hat? Right over the edge, just out of reach from a safe point.