[Solar Winds] Make it Work

by **Martini Elwood** on October 7th, 2018, 3:57 pm

8th of Autumn, 518AV
Dusk Rest

Dark, still air and silence greeted Martini when her eyes opened. For a moment she just looked at the ceiling, dazed and not all there. It was odd waking up so refreshed and well rested... No, it was almost impossible. Her limbs didn't feel heavy, and she wasn't at all groggy or tired. There was a lack of wetness in her eyes that had her shooting out of bed to observe it. Panic set in, this wasn't happening again! She frantically felt around her bed, desiring to find a familiar dampness where her head had been for sings of crying in her sleep.

Nothing.

She whipped around, tripping on her blanket and falling to the ground hard on her elbow, numbness spreading through her right arm as she hit the funny bone. She shook herself, kicking her foot lose from the blanket as she sat up and groaned. Pain, she was in pain. It was real, there was no dreaming this away. She breath was short as she looked around, her fears confirmed when she saw that same easel in front of her door.

It couldn't be here, she'd left it in Riverfall! It was gone, there was no need for it to be here..! She couldn't handle the weight of her thoughts, her breathing was thin and she was sure she was shaking as the world went black again. She barely registered her head falling back against the floor, barely registered anything as she faded again besides that damned easel watching her all the way down.

++++

Martini sat up with a start, heavy and teary eyed as she pushed the blankets of her sweaty form. Around and around her vision spun, getting up so quickly had upset her balance and she sat down almost immediately. Tension in her shoulders and a dull ache on her temples, she put her palm there to soothe it. She blinked her eyes clear - wiped the remaining tears away - and tried to stand, albeit slower than before. Once she'd regained her balance she turned toward the door, more weary than afraid. There it stood, the easel that had forced her move.

It hadn't moved an inch away from the door, but somehow she'd ended up back in bed. She tossed it up as another terrible occurrence, something she couldn't possibly understand. Just like how the easel had gotten here. The brunette had sat down again, dizzied by the wait of the situation. Was there some cruel god who sought to bring her more grief? Who had she wronged that her fate was so tied to something that related to her parents death?

She huffed her exhaustion - she'd done something wrong and she was being punished for it. There was no way to run this time, no way to hide from the truth as it would clearly find her either way. She ha to laugh a bit sadly when she thought about it - a life's worth of running and now she was stuck? Maybe that was her crime then - running away? Every problem she had was solved by just avoiding it... So if she faced this one head on would she be redeemed?

Could she possibly hope to redeem herself, even through self torture? Punishing herself? Was it even worth it? By then she was standing before the easel, a dim light of hope in her eye as she carefully put her hand on the wood. Canvas, she needed canvas.

by **Martini Elwood** on October 7th, 2018, 4:53 pm

She had left immediately after, but took her time coming back. Oddly enough, she felt a sense of calm when she entered the apartment again - the kind one feels when knowing something ad is coming but being prepared for it. Martini was scared, but there was a sort of... giddiness to her unease that made her question her fear. Was she truly that curious about the easel that her fear took a back seat and transformed into unease? Was she so far gone that she couldn't tell the difference? She didn't want to think about it. She was scared, but just this once she was manipulating herself to push through that fear.

That alone was nerve wrecking. She mostly followed her gut for everything, defying it felt wrong and made her unease grow - something she didn't like. It was a bitter taste to know she was doing something so wildly frightening and all she felt was this morbid curiosity that pushed her forward. It was a rotten feeling, but petch if it wasn't intriguing.

She forced herself to swallow the lump and the voice in her mind telling her to just forget the easel existed. She pushed open the door, closing it with her foot as she placed the canvas on the easel. Could she really do this? Just throw away her caution and forget the fear to play with something she didn't just feel was dangerous, but knew it was?

"I... need to think this through." She said it, but it was almost as if it wasn't her voice. It sounded so... odd, to know she wanted to enough that she was weighing her options. She didn't feel like she would regret it, no. But what if she did? "Gods help me make the right choice."

She walked away from it and grabbed her sketchbook and a stick of charcoal. She would procrastinate for a bit, give herself time to think about what she wanted to do. She sat at the small desk and opened to a clean page. She shaped the outline first, not bothering to sketch in basic shapes as she knew the form well enough in her head. This plant, where had she seen it? It was a thin stemmed plant, a bit of a crosshatched shading and some thicker lines added to the form. She had seen this somewhere of course, she was drawing it after all.

She posed a small circle just above the stem, not touching so that she could fit in the petals later. She detailed what she recalled was the stamen? The inside of the flower that was connected to the petals. She detailed it lightly, not wanting the eyes to stray to the center and not the petals themselves. She began to work on the petals, wavy teardrop shaped things that connected delicately to the stamen. She added some petals falling off for extra detail and put some leaves on the stem. She tried to add some minimal shading to the petals, smudging the edges with her finger to create a fading effect before she put the charcoal stick down, which was about half it’s original size.

SpentCanvas (30 sq in) -1jk

by **Martini Elwood** on November 27th, 2018, 8:46 am

With her creativity flowing and her hand loose and warmed, Martini examined the drawing she had put in her book a final time. There were a few errors here and there, but when she pictured it in her head it looked somewhat similar to the one she’d made on paper. Now that she thought about it, it kind of… unnerved her. Wherever she had seen it was - oh. Setting the sketchbook down, she stood and made her way to the easel. Was she truly that invested in the petching hunk of wood? She circled it, her eyes searching for the symbol she hoped wasn’t there. And yet, there - dead center on the backboard - was the same image that was drawn in her sketchbook. Though the one on the easel was easily more intricate and better handled it was clearly the same thing.

There was no use denying it, the symbol had to be important. The one on the easel was so… intricate and odd, it had to mean something. But what..? Martini made a mental note to keep the sketch with her, perhaps someone in the city could help her in case it meant something special. It wasn’t normal to be compelled to do things - and this easel had just that effect on the brunette. It wasn’t normal to be fascinated with something that might possibly be dangerous enough to kill you. It wasn’t normal, any of it.

The abnormality scared her, terrified her. Yet here she stood, a slave to her morbid curiosity. Was fear enough? Apparently not, and even death seemed to roll by her at the thought of the power pooling into her hands. If she were to use it, the easel that had haunted her… what would happen? A chill ran through her at the thought - her, using a Djed infused easel? Never. But those were dreams… She had thought about it, the possibility that it wasn’t infused with Djed. For that to be true though it wouldn’t have been able to follow her here from Riverfall. If it wasn’t.. Djed related, how was it in her dreams before appearing?

Not to dwell, but the fact that it had followed her should have been enough to frighten her away. How had it gotten here? How had it gotten in two locked apartments? The first in Riverfall should have been the only time. Having it come to her a second time… it wasn’t normal. And that was honestly all she could cling to, the fact that it was abnormal. Even though it scared her. Gods, what am I doing..? She’d drive herself mad at this rate. She sighed, a pained huffy noise through her lips as she sat down at the desk.

She needed to do some work, actual work. She needed to distract herself. So she grabbed the half used charcoal stick and got back to work. She’d practice some portraits, then she’d try to steel herself enough to use the easel. She didn’t want to think of what was really going on, how once again she was running to her work to forget. There was no point.

by **Martini Elwood** on November 27th, 2018, 8:48 am

She needed to relax, and the only thing she could think of was her mothers face. She tried picturing her - She started rounding out the face, thickening the outline slightly as she added ears. Hair was next - long curly locks that partially obscured the face of her mother. She made sure to give her eyes the same treatment, round and doe like. Something her mother never liked was her childlike appearance.

She shaded the underside of the nose, making it pop from the page a bit as she worked on the smile she had been so familiar with. She been doing portraits of her parents recently, nothing special just small hand warmers that kept the loneliness at bay. She doodled her father once, but she had long destroyed that in her broken state. Perhaps she could try again…

With the charcoal thinning out, her lines looked thinner, something she’d never tried before. She always used thick lines, but she could see the appeal with others. The hair was somewhat of a challenge, placing curls here and there, and little strands to give the drawing a bit of volume. She’d add light shade to certain areas that appeared hidden in the drawing. If she was correct, the lighting or light source could dictate shadows, something Alice had taught her. Martini thickened her final line before she settled, the charcoal barely one fourth it’s size now that she had worn it down.

Looking over the drawing, she couldn’t find any blatant mistakes. There were some asymmetrical spacing here and there, but not enough to draw from the image unless one really inspected it. Martini liked how she’d worked the eyes, and even the smile made her lips quirk upwards. Her mother was beautiful - even when in the throes of a broken heart. She had an inkling to add a splash of color, but without the proper colors it would be pointless. Carefully, she traced a finger around the imitation on paper.

Moisture welled up on her eyelids - she was quick to blink them away though, now wasn’t the tine for crying. She’d just made a decent portrait and she hadn’t spent more than four or five bells on it. Her speed was improving, and she didn’t seem to need the guide lines anymore… Her mother and father would be proud - the thought brought a sad smile to her lips. Perhaps a portrait of her father would be a good move for her. Taking the depleted charcoal, she set out to work, quickly finishing off the her first stick and moving on to the second.

She didn’t recall her fathers’ visage and features as vividly as she did her mothers. Chalk it up to trauma but it was like she wanted to forget at some point and she had. He had very short hair, her father. Leonard loved a nice clean shave too, but he had noticeable stubble. She pressed dots under his lower lip, and added a light sheen over shadow to his beard are to mimic the appearance of freshly shaved stubble. He had a plain looking face, nothing about it really stood out.

by **Martini Elwood** on November 27th, 2018, 8:49 am

His eyes were almost almond shaped, and she added bushy eye brows above the lids - just as she recalled them. She went back and added the nose, a rather small one, but it didn’t seem too disproportionate so she continued. A small smile went across his lips in the drawing. With that out of the way she detailed the hair, just some simple lines that connected to form wavy locks that barely reached father than his ears. For good measure she went around the outline with ink, darkening it so that the inside would draw more attention.

Leaning back in her chair Martini let out a small puff of satisfaction as she examined her work. Her never lost his ability to make her smile, even now she couldn’t help the upward lift of her lips as she ripped out the page of her mothers portrait. Putting them side by side brought memories she could only hope would become less painful with time. She knew it would take a long time for her, hell, she knew she wasn’t anywhere near ready… There was still that child In her that refused to accept they were truly gone.

She could only hope to get to that point.

Martini exhaled, her fathers face was a bit off - the lines where a bit thicker than she had intended. She’d pressed to hard with the charcoal when the tension had set in her shoulders. Usually at that point she’d take a break - muscling through things was not her strong suit. She was still that scared little girl from the Djed storms after all. More like terrified, she mused bitterly. She could pretend all she liked, it wouldn’t change her denial of her parents death.

It wouldn’t change that she’d not once visited either of their graves. No, instead she had at the time deigned to forget about them completely - as if they never existed. That would have been easier she had thought. To forget the hardships and just start as a blank slate… What she wouldn’t give for something like that. Martini knew that she’d never be able to forget about her parents, she’d lose what she had left of her mentality and stability if she did. They were her will to live now.

Make them proud.

Make them proud.

Live and show them you’re grateful to them for having given you all that you need.

That’s what she’d been told. The brunette had had up to her ears in excuses and pity. It never ended in Syliras, and some part of her was glad it hadn’t. These drawings of her parents where memories forever stilled in time. Memories of what she’d lost, but also the good times she’d had. The memories that shaped her childhood and now define her adulthood, would she ever be able to forget them? Would she be able to cast them aside in favor of a blank canvas?

No, she couldn’t. In throwing those memories away she’d lose another part of herself she’d never get back. And that - in her mind - would be worse.

LootOne uncolored Portrait of both her Mother and father.