Sgraffito

A quiet and lonesome figure. Sgraffito keeps to himself and often remains behind canvases most of the day. He sits crossed legged on his old wooden stool and goes to work for hours at a time. Many times he’s fallen asleep while painting but whenever he’s asked if he has, he denies it. He just calls it “deep concentration.”
He is a master of many crafts and has a deep love and appreciation for those he can and cannot master. When he moves, his body creaks and sounds similar to wood or an old doll. He doesn’t speak and it’s unknown if he can or can’t. Some have said they can hear him whispering, muttering to himself whilst deep in thought or intensively focused on whatever has his attention. He has the habit of tapping his chin with a paintbrush or finger when contemplating or when there’s nothing better do with his hands.  

Sgraffito enjoys classical music, from calm and peaceful to chaotic and loud, he loves it all the same. He loves stringed instruments and the violin is his mot beloved. He hopes to one day learn it. Occasionally, a whistling sound can be heard from him. And just like his ability to speak, no one knows if it’s him or just an eery wind that surrounds him. Sgraffito also has a love for birds. Nightingales and blue jays are his favorites, though there are many more he considers his number one as he can never pick.

Once living in the Forbidden Woods right at the cusp of the Black Mountain, Sgraffito became uninspired and demotivated in his beloved home he made the choice to move. He packed all of his tools and his works into large trunks. He contemplated for a while on what to do with all the furnishings, eventually only deciding to bring a few items along. His stool, rugs, and cushions all came with him. Sgraffito gifted his home to a family less fortunate and was finally off. 

The new lands that greeted him were nothing short of amazing. The Great Plains and the lush grass and plants that grew there reinvigorated his passion for the arts and life.