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 sepia tresses flowing freely far beyond her frail shoulders or even her eyes for that matter. 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 time, 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.