Balanced Art

Covered in swirling darkness, she found herself once again in a place she had visited many times before. Flashes of neon, the only source of light illuminated the dank void she found herself in. Sweat trickling, the girl stood frozen with dreadful anticipation.

Letting out a fragile breath, she ambled through the obscurity, until she came across a large, ordinate, wooden door. Gasping, her eyes narrowed dangerously as her pulse quickened. The girl haughtily threw the door open; readying herself to spelunk even deeper into the shadows within. The twists and turns that followed did little to put her mind at ease as she felt the darkness, as if searching for the inevitable.

Step by lonesome step down, the shadows consumed her until left everything, even the remnants of her heart all but tainted. Still, she continued onwards, veering into a room filled with self-suspending canvases. As she came closer in order to examine them, the girl quickly came to the conclusion that they were blank; barren of any color.

No smear of tempera, dab of watercolor, nor stroke of oil could ever hope to even touch such empty canvases. Even the almighty acrylic had failed in yielding any fruit. Hues forgotten, bypassed by all but nothing, swirling into themselves; spawning melancholy monochrome in its place. In the girl's heart, the very same could be said. Trapped in alcoves of her own emotional turbulence, she continued forward, taking note of the sudden chill in the air.

A dim overhead light grew brighter and brighter as she drew near the only canvas that held a painting. It was a simple portrait, a self portrait to be precise, one depicting that of a young girl with lovely features despite the deep scowl that marred her lips. From what could be seen of her upper torso, she wore a simple house kimono over what could be suspected as a combat blouse. One also could not overlook her hair, with blond tresses flowing freely far beyond her frail shoulders or even her eyes for that matter. Eyes blazing gold, with such a searing gaze that could easily incinerate any potential passerby save for its original counterpart.

The portait spoke eerily, "Why?"

At that moment, Yakuro awoke, golden eyes ablaze with a mix of fear and confusion. "Just a dream, it was just a dream." She nervously took in the nature that was around her on the now dead Terralius. She had been seperated for quite some time now, no life forms had visited for a long period, she began to wonder of Temeres, and buried her face in her palms, only to cry.

For some time, she has owned the large mansion she dubbed home, as she was the only one to live in it for the ages to come and pass. It had been so long, so lonely, so peaceful though, the ages had gone by as quick as her drawings, each one had only taken few moments, even she could, if she wanted, make a painting in mere seconds, though she preferred if she could take her time.

Quieting down, she sighed, only to once more begin to paint, the canvas expressing what her mood was at that moment. As dark blue shades swirling with a hint to purple, light blue extracts jumping out from each corner as the center swirled with the dark blue loneliness.

Activating her 'sixth-sense', as a whole, Yakuro's eyes glowed deep, rich gold, as soft energy enveloped Terralius, her power spreading about the whole planet, making the massive orb seem as if itself were glowing the beautiful shade. Deep down, in the depths of her heart, Yakuro yearned for love, for that fluttering feeling that sends the spirit ablaze with unsurmountable passion.

She peered up into the clouds, hoping for a visitor, though she felt none of that would ever occur, her hopes died off in seconds as she gathered her items, and slowly walked back toward her mansion, canves and paints, the few things that actually made her life worht living. Once more, she found herself depressed, down, and doomed to live a life of solitude, curse her weak body and frail container.

As Yakuro headed back to her home, she caught sight of someone in the distance; a figure in a black traveler's cloak, sprawled on the ground, unmoving. An enormous sword lay next to the man.

Yakuro blinked, 'How could I have not noticed this person moments ago?' she asked herself, as she made slow strides and eventually stopped at the unmoving man, she bent down, "E-excuse me? Are you okay?" she politely asked, nervousness laced the whole question, as she gently placed each one of her belongings upon the ground. She put her hand upon the man, lightly shaking him, she asked her same question once more.

Upon closer inspection, the man's hair was a brilliant shade of emerald green, and his cloak torn in many places. He was facedown on the ground. Despite her prodding, the fellow did not move.

Yakuro stared at his hair, this shade bringing her back to another time, long gone, she sighed, after noticing that his cloak was torn, and knowing that he didn't seem to respond to her continuous shaking, she tried turning him over, 'Why do I have to be so weak?' She mentally berates herself as she turns over the cloaked man.

Upon turning him over, she is greeted to the sight of numerous wounds; The man's eyes were closed and blood was spattered on his face and torso.

Yakuro's eyes widened at the sight, she had not expected this, using some of her own energy, she began to slowly heal these wounds, though with her level at such techniques, it's take her a while to perform such power. As such, the healing process took ten minutes before the man could be fully healed.

The man gave a strangled gasp, suddenly becoming active as his golden eyes snapped open.

Once more, Yakuro asked curiously, "Are you okay?", her face being the first thing to come into focus once his golden orbs had opened.

The man gasped for air for a few moments, before responding. "...you shouldn't have helped me..."

"And why is that? You looked like you were dying." Yakuro formed a small smile, "And everyone deserves at least a second chance."

"A second chance?" the man asked, "I've squandered away any second chances I may have deserved..."

"I doubt that." Yakuro responded, "And even so, I saved your life. It's good to have at least someone around, haven't spoken to a person in a long time."

The man sighed, and looked away. "Fate is a cruel thing," he said. "People around me tend to die before their time."

"Well, I've been alive for a long time." Yakuro explained, "I was alive even before war ravaged this planet. I had a lover who became a killer, so you must not worry about my life."

"...you are pure-blood?" the man asked. "But how- no, nevermind. It matters not. Nothing matters. I am but a fool, thinking that redemption would be possible... but I could do nothing as my friends, brothers and sisters in arms, were sent to their deaths..."

"It tends to happen that way, does it not?" Yakuro asked, "Many have tried, many have failed. It's the circle, where a life dies, another takes it's place. Think of it as a joy for your friends, should they now be happy in the next world. And you shall join them later, you must wait your turn." Even though her morbid explanation certainly has it's dark side, it also has a happier thought to it.

The man simply stared off into the sky for a few moments, before he spoke. "I ought to go... perhaps I can find some place where I may die in peace..." However, upon trying to sit up, a searing pain shot through his shoulders, and he fell back down, growling in pain.

Yakuro's unwavering expression showed signs of indifference, "You must not move, you could get hurt worse." Within a few moments, the man finds himself floating, though still in his lying position. Yakuro picks up her things, stands up, and walks toward her house, the man floating next to her. "By the way, my name is Yakuro, what is your's?"

"Names are unimportant," the man said. "But... you may call me Ar- I mean, Ryou." The man was unsure why he suddenly changed his mind; he hadn't called himself 'Ryou' for over a thousand years.

"Ryou.." Yakuro repeated, "That's a sweet name." She softly smiles, as the door to her mansion opens itself, allowing Ryou to float about in, straight to what could be assumed to be a guest room, he was placed down upon the bed. Yakuro comes walking in moments later, "I hope you enjoy the room, although no one has slept in it for years."

The room itself contained portraits of Terralius' landscape from ages before, a self-portrait of Yakuro, and a picture containing swirling colors. Periwinkle curtains were draped over the windows, blocking out some light that made it's way through the window.

Ryou sighed, merely staring blankly at the ceiling. ''Inferno... you once told me that you were a god... who made your own fate... that didn't stop your death nor the deaths of Amnesty and Red, though... why must fate toy with us so? Why can't I simply defy my own fate and take my own life? Curse my cowardice...''

Yakuro interrupted Ryou's thoughts, "Excuse me, but would you like some tea, or something to eat?"

"I need nothing," Ryou said distantly.

"Oh..." Yakuro quietly responded, leaving the room for a moment. At the very same time, Ryou could feel a dark power inhabiting the house, evil intentions on destroying him. Although all of it washed away the exact moment Yakuro came walking back into the room, with her own cup of tea. She asked, "Have I seen you before?"