Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

A Blank Canvas

N20C3NS.png
"I beseech thee Senators, do not ignore their plight / For betrayal is the only sin that cannot be washed away."
Ambassador Gollund
Soft whimpers echoed between those four dreary walls of the battered ship as it incessantly groaned with life, a pair of dangling bulbs dimly illuminating the crowded compartments as they shook and wiggled in rhythm with every steer of the craft while it made it's approach. Dreadfully uncomfortable silence hanged in the heavy and musk filled air as the numerous passengers huddled against each other for comfort and safety, mothers tightly hugging their children to their bosom as they stared aimlessly at the rusted barriers all around them offering them desolation alongside a mixture of hope. Rash coughs and wheeze bounced between the grey enclosure as the elderly slept peacefully in the numerous corners of their steel carriage, the men giving each other reassuring glances as they embraced their families firmly. Solemn children and teenagers that were otherwise cheerful and joyful sat motionless in their spot, their tear stricken cheeks betraying whatever facade of strength they attempted to hold in front of their peers. Miners, engineers, soldiers, housekeepers, pensioners, and students, all kept close to one another as the barriers between age, class, and species broke down in front of their very eyes as they tried to find comfort amongst each other. Blankets and clothes were passed around from hand to hand towards those that needed them the most, a bonding brotherhood and camaraderie forming within the ranks of the now lawless vagabonds as they felt abandoned in this ever changing galaxy at the time of their need. Patriots and traitors alike shared few words for the occasional somber glimpse, guards and prisoners alike sharing their pillows as they became nothing more than refugees.

Mechanical groans of pain and stress woke them from their grave-like slumber as the shuttle heaved powerfully, low tremors rolling through the numerous compartments and sending shudders down their collective spines as they finally touched down upon land. Numerous men set upon themselves the task to wake up the others and prepare them for leaving their rusted savior, groans of annoyance, sighs of relies, and anxious breaths filling the large chamber to the brim as they all began packing their belongings back in whatever bags and packs they had on hand. Each stood close to his own family as the blast doors slowly opened before them, those who were less fortunate sharing a final embrace to steel for the worst as old enemies shook hands and shared one last kiss on the cheek for good fortune. Their collective ears ringed irritably as the noise of the planet began seeping through the ever widening crack of the door, the sharp noise of the air being cut apart by the numerous speeders traveling all around them, almost muffling the incomprehensible chatter coming from the dock in front of them. Silently they descended down upon the croaking ramp beneath them under the watchful eye of numerous guards and military personnel, whatever feelings of disgust and hatred they might have once harbored for these men and women replaced by bloodshot eyes and slumped postures.

Pathetic mewls slipped through the cracked lips of an auburn-haired woman near the back of the group as she approached the ramp, cloth covered arm quickly placing itself on top of her forehead to block the rays of light trickling down onto her sleep deprived visage. Heavy bags hanged underneath her eyelids as she slowly walked forwards, the lithe frame hidden underneath her tattered red dress trembling and shivering violently as she desperately attempted to stay up onto her feet. She idly followed behind the large herd without any proper idea of what to do or where to go next, hunger and thirst clouding her judgement as she felt her knees buckling underneath their weight. Underneath her left arm hanged a series of canvases tied together with a string of cloth, the only possession she could bring along in exchange for surrendering her spare clothes and backpack back at the port in Corellia. As wide and as tall as her own upper body, the painting in the front that was put on display for all to see unintentionally was the very same painting that she received numerous complaints and heckling in regards to from the other passengers, until she finally agreed to place it in the corner of their shared compartment and cover it up. An unsettling and unearthly figure was drawn in black paint upon the white canvas using sharp motions, the shadow-like monstrosity tilting its head to the side at an impossible angle. Its mouth was turned into a grotesque smile plastered upon an otherwise blank face, a pair of small beady white eyes being the only exception. The more someone would stare at the wretched thing as they walked past, the more disturbing the image would become as it seemed like those quivering orbs followed their every move. Its diabolical smile would widen in order to reveal a disgusting row of canine teeth and fangs hidden underneath its supple lips, its hands slowly moving upwards and firmly planting themselves onto the canvas. The blurry outline of its frame seemed to shiver ferociously as it continued to lean the rest of its body forward, seemingly slipping through the canvas and coming to life.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]
 
The Sith had been cutting through space both unclaimed and previously owned alike, expanding their reach with unparalleled speed through the Galaxy. She’d spent much of her life in the company of less fanatic individuals, preferring the company of her outlaw friends in Wild Space. The Fringe was her true home in people and ideals. But the siren song of Coruscant had been too much a lure – she had always loved its incessant noise, its bustling streets, the colors of its glittering expanse at night when she looked out her floor-to-ceiling windows. She’d purchased a high-rise apartment there sometime after she’d first assisted the OS in retaining Alderaan and hadn’t budged since. Proximity to the group of Sith and a growing relationship with one of its Hands had her working with them more and more often however.

[SIZE=12pt] And that was how she found herself in the hangar bay in which the refugee transport was landing. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] Thousands of people had been displaced by the advance of the Sith and their Vong counterparts, the latter often destroying the surface of lesser planets in their quest to see technology eradicated. Places like Coruscant were left untouched but even Alderaan had succumbed to vong-forming, an alien landscape that no one born on its surface would recognize now. All those people had to go somewhere and unlike the Sith of the past, the One Sith saw the value of letting them keep their lives. Their empire would not thrive without scores of toiling people. Usually the task of sorting through these tired, broken people was left to those lesser than her, but that day Matsu had decided to oversee the process herself. Perhaps boredom drove her, the quiet too much after so much war. Or perhaps it was just a feeling. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] She arrived just as the ship was landing, a woman much shorter and more petite than one might expect. In fact she looked nothing like one uneducated might assume of a Sith – she was beautiful, impeccably dressed, well-mannered. She approached the Commander tasked with evaluating the new arrivals for possible positions within the ranks in a neatly tailored white pantsuits, its angles as sharp as those of her face. (A demon. That is what she looks like, her naturally high cheekbones sharpened by the corruption of sith magic. Beautiful. But demonic.)[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] “We’re just about to unload them Lady Xiangu,” the Commander informed her, indicating the bay door opening from the transport.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] “Excellent,” she said simply, a voice smooth like sea-glass. She wasn’t much for conversation.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] The expected mix of creeds and colors poured from the ship, some strong and some impossibly weak. All species were mixed together, alone or in families, wide-eyed and wondering what might happen to them now. At first she let them stream by, herded towards a check-in point. She ran her touch through their minds lightly, like dipping her fingers into the soft current of a river, seeing if anything caught her attention. Most weren’t complex, creatures contemplating survival, what a new life meant. But there was one mind…[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] The girl in the red dress caught her gaze first simply because of the bright color, but it was what she held in her arms that kept Matsu’s attention. Striding forward, the clicking of her heels severe against the surface of the port, she intercepted the stumbling woman with a hand delicately wrapped around the edge of her painting, tilting it towards her for study. It was ghastly, harsh strokes of black on a pure canvas. The creature seemed to look up at her and know her, pinprick eyes so inhuman as to speak of madness. It was horrifying. It was beautiful. Lifting her black eyes up from her communion with the art she watched the mewling, hunched woman, speaking equally as soft as the refugee’s muttered sounds of hunger. “Do you see things like this in dreams, or do they come to you as you paint?”[/SIZE]

[member="Yvette Dusong"]​
 
Soft gasps slipped through the girls parted lips as she suddenly felt the painting lodged between her arm gently tugged away from her, tilted in such a way that the dull edge of the canvas pushed itself firmly into the lower portion of her ribs. Instinctively she jumped forward a small handful of inches, twisting her trembling body around mid-air to face her would be robber as both fingers tightly grasped the upper corners of the canvas. Muffled groans rolled through her parched throat as she forcefully pulled the portrait back towards her, beads of sweat forming around her furrowed brows as she kept her half-closed eyes down onto those dainty fingers holding on from the opposite end. Another gasp slips through the auburn-haired woman's lips once she managed to pull her livelihood away from that petite woman in front of her, tightly hugging the small bundle in front of her chest with both arms as she hunched herself on top of them possessively. Trembling eyes quickly looked over the woman's delicate features from head to toe several times as those unsettling words sent a chill down her spine, the seemingly innocent question uttered by those supple lips visibly unnerving the much taller woman as she grew meek in her presence. Quivering lips moved silently as she tried to briskly answer her inquiry before returning to the safety of the other refugees, her eyes widening ever so slightly in shock as she found herself at a loss for words.

Those blackened pupils of the petite woman would notice a distinct modification in the girls portrait if her eyes were to travel down towards it, those dreadful canines disappearing back beneath those supple lips as the figment returned to it's initial pose. A terrified gasp would ring between their ears as a small child stood petrified only a mere few feet away from the two of them, tears trickling down his pale cheeks as his lithe hands clutched onto his mouth in shock. Shivers ran through his fragile body that shook him to the core, buckling knees crumbling underneath their own weight as he broke down and cried his eyes out, screaming, shouting, and running towards his parents. "T-Thats . . ." Yvette finally replied through quivering lips in an unsteady voice, fear and trepidation clear as daylight in her voice as her gaze alternated between the delicate hands of the woman in front of her and those nearly-darkened eyes of hers. "W-Why, dreams . . . of course! Such dreadful things!" She continued in the same tone of voice, squeezing the paintings ever tighter to her chest as she peered into the woman's eyes. Quivering lips curled into a faint and trembling smile as she slowly pushed them closer towards the beautiful woman, angled in such a way so that she could see the painting slowly morph itself in front of her. "Would you be interested Madame? In . . . buying them? Just a handful of credits, nothing more!" Despite the obvious unsteadiness in her voice, the auburn-haired girl did her best to put on a confident and warm air about her, all while trying to desperately ignore the audible growling of her stomach.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]
 
[SIZE=12pt] She’d chosen to specialize in protecting her mind because of how she’d lost her left arm the first time, a dangerous miscalculation of trust that had almost stolen her chance at the Galaxy. (He’d crept in when she was angry, when she’d opened the door. He’d made her believe she needed to cut off her own arm. He’d left her to die.) She had promised herself no one would touch her mind again. She would build a fortress around what was hers. It was the reason she was always so calm and cold, an iron-fist grip on her power that made her impenetrable. So when the painting moved she saw it only because she was looking for it. The image of the child crying to their left she felt first as a question, a tap on her fortress wall. (I am here. Would you see me?) She opened her mind to the vision and felt something like a smile tug at the corners of her mouth – such attention to detail. Even the glimpses of sunlight making their way through the tangle of buildings and traffic were perfectly accounted for on the child’s head. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] The girl’s question fell on nearly deaf ears, the wheels already turning seamlessly in Matsu’s head.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] “No, but I can offer you something better than a few credits,” she returned matter-of-factly, letting the painting go as its image started jerking in throes that reminded Matsu of the moments before a violent death. Illusion took a combination of innate creative talent and practice. The girl had the potential, but whether she had the personality remained to be seen. “Come with me. I’d like to watch you paint, and then we can discuss my offer,” she said, making it clear the girl was free to join the rest of the wretches in line waiting to be sorted.[/SIZE]

[member="Yvette Dusong"]​
 
Reddened ears twitched nervously as she intently listened to the young woman speak in such a dreary and formal tone of voice, the plain and simple refusal to the girls offer eliciting a soft breath of air to pour from her quivering lips while the curt follow-up sent shivers down her spine. Trembling fingers tightened their grip around the blunt edges of the bundle as she idly pulled those morbid portraits back into the safety of her bosom, twisting it so the monstrosity painted onto the canvas was hidden from sight within her chest, her arms firmly wrapping themselves around it. Pathetic whimpers rolled through her parched throat before hitting her gritted teeth, the sound muffling itself furthermore as she nestled her mouth against the bundle. Furrowed brows cocked themselves inquisitively once she heard the woman's offer, absentmindedly repeating it over and over in her mind as her expression shifted into one that resembled that of a perplexed and paranoid man. "Just . . . paint?" She asked uncertainly, her voice seemingly a whisper as trembling eyes glanced over the woman in front of her from head to toe one more time. "Nothing else?" She continued after a brief pause while the woman already began walking away, Yvette desperately looking from side to side before briskly following in her footsteps, click like sounds beating against the drums in her ears with each hurried step she took against the cold pavement.

Question, after question, after question poured incessantly through the stumbling girls mouth as she struggled to keep pace with her unsettling acquaintance, cheeks beating red from a mixture of shame, embarrassment, and physical exertion as her mind continued to wander towards some of the more humbling and distressing scenarios that could arise from this arrangement she agreed upon so readily and unthinkingly. Requests for materials, for canvases, brushes, paint, pencils, and even paper seemed to be met with nothing but a nerve-wracking silence as the pair remained on the move, slipping by numerous checkpoints and armed guards as they only offered them the fleeting glance before turning to look the other way. Before long her constant chatter subdued itself into incoherent muttering and whimpering as the overbearing presence of the woman walking in front of her began settling down onto her shoulders, shivers running down her spine as she felt the cold hand of death embrace her trembling body if she dared utter anymore needless words. Soft gasps muffled themselves against her sealed lips as she found herself standing in front of the open doorway to what seemed to be the woman's apartment, quivering body standing a few inches away from the entrance as she nervously peered inside.

Soft thuds echoed within the luxurious apartment as she cautiously stepped forth, diligently following the woman inside as her quivering eyes attempted to take in her claustrophobic surroundings. Bleak and sanitized walls surrounded the pair on either side as they slowly made their way through the narrow hallway, shivers trickling down the younger girls spine once her quivering eyes rested upon a morbidly fascination painting that awaited her at the end of the hallway. A wooden framed portrait was neatly hung upon that dreary wall in front of her, the drawing itself eliciting wheezing breaths to slip through her lips as she locked eyes with that despicable figure framed for eternity. Soft hues of orange and red were littered across the background, a darker and more pronounced tint slowly etching itself onto the canvas the lower her eyes traveled. A pale and sickly looking man was drawn in the front, the painting only going down as far as his narrow waist. Droplets or red and green seemingly thrown across his infested body as the skin barely hanged onto his bones, the detail afforded to the man's ribcage fascinating the young woman as his skin trickled down in waves. A broken violin was grasped tightly between skinless fingers, the butt of the instrument firmly placed against his shoulder as he wielded a rusted bow within his free hand. String made out of what seemed to be hair were ripped, torn apart, or simply missing entirely, her reddened ears ringing ever so slightly as she could practically hear the disgruntled tune it attempted to play for her.

Eyes widened and trembled in shock as she looked up into it's ghastly face, the unnaturally full and healthy figure only serving to give it a more eery tone as his eyes were replaced with large swaths of black. A sense of dread and trepidation coursed through her body as she stared aimlessly into that blackened abyss, fingers curling ever more tightly around the bundle of paintings held tightly between her arms as if to steel her nerves. Soft mewls slipped through her quivering lips as she desperately tried to figure out the artist or the point of the macabre portrait, dizziness overtaking her the longer she shared that intimate moment with the void itself. The click of heels upon the cold laminated floor beneath her caught her attention, hurriedly turning her crimson cheeks and enthralled expression towards her host, excuse after incomprehensible excuse slipping through her lips as she hurriedly stepped inside the living room. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the rest of the house decorated much in the same way as a mental asylum, painting after painting littered across those sanitized walls much in the same vein as the one in the hallway.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]
 
[SIZE=12pt] There was a time she might have chosen something loud to adorn her home, something stylish but far more assertive. Though, she supposed, the stark white of her post-modern apartments were assertive in and of itself. [/SIZE][SIZE=12pt]It lacked the draconian aesthetic many of her kind seemed so fond of. There was something cartoonish about a Sith surrounded by the heads of animals mounted on plaques in a room built of stone, cold castle-spires. This place felt sleek, the kind of dwelling one could just as easily dismember a body cleanly in as relax by the fire. But despite the sharp whites and blacks of the walls and furniture there were bursts of hellscape color, massive canvas decorated by visions of a torturous afterlife looming at every corner.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] Beautiful, but dark.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] She’d become fascinating by the artist over a decade ago, spending part of her fortunes on collecting almost anything by him she could get her hands on. Yvette seemed to gravitate towards one of the most haunting. Matsu was no stranger to the damaged, the broken. There was an off-kilter sensation to the girl’s flavor, an unhinged quality that made the Atrisian wonder if it wasn’t just the blonde’s predisposition to move with deer-in-the-headlights expression.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] She’d contacted her servants ahead of time and had several things put out for the taller woman Matsu brought back. Of course Matsu wasn’t much of a drawer or painter herself so there were no paints to be found readily, but nevertheless there were dozens of pencils of different colors strewn on the coffee table, a stack of blank white paper propped cleanly next to them. The rawness of the materials mattered little to Matsu though she guessed at first glance they would seem meager to the stranger.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] But if all went well she could show the blonde something far more elaborate. And it would require no paint at all.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] Sitting down on one of the plush, white armchairs surrounding the coffee table, she gestured to her ‘guest’ to pick a seat. Once they were both settled – Matsu with legs crossed and an elbow resting on the arm of the chair, a well-mannered portrait – she continued a conversation that’d seemed to come to a halt on the transport over. “My name is Matsu Xiangu,” she offered. There was a time she’d prized anonymity, even believed she could retain it. But as of late her deeds and atrocities had found legs, running to all corners of the Galaxy. She hid behind no monikers, owning her actions. “I didn’t catch what you call yourself.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] After a moment she continued, waving a hand at the pencils and paper in front of them. “If you wouldn’t mind, draw the first thing that comes to mind. And then I will draw something for you.”[/SIZE]

[member="Yvette Dusong"]​
 
Faint rays of crimson light poured within the sparsely decorated room as the sun above began its slow descent past the horizon, hiding behind the numerous extravagant buildings and apartment blocks nestled through the area every so often before resurfacing for a short period of time, enveloping the room in an orange tint reminiscent of the macabre painting in the hallway. Various speeders, crafts, and hovering automobiles zoomed incessantly past the spacious balcony found just outside the much smaller woman's living room, their blaring engines and the chilling buzz of air being cut apart muffled due to the glass wall separating the two rooms. Painting after painting were hung upon those sleek and dreary walls methodically, each seemingly telling a piece of a macabre and unsettling story loosely tied together. Plush looking armchairs were carefully laid out in the middle of the room at an almost exactly angle and distance between one another, boxing themselves around a meager coffee table atop a furred rug. Modest bookshelves were lined up to the wall opposite of the hallway, filled to the brim with numerous datapads and the odd leather-bound tome here and there.

Cautiously following in the footsteps of the petite woman as she was led towards the small arrangement of chairs, Yvette's eyes constantly darted between the numerous portraits strewn across the wall with a glint in her eyes. Paintings of desolate and crumbling cities laid side by side with portraits of armored men and women clawing and tearing each other apart, followed by those of moribund husks of what she could only assume to be living beings. A man draped in numerous tattered clothes and loins from head to toe, his face masked by what she believed to be an amalgamation of scrap metal sewn together to protect what little was left of his flesh judging by the visible bones protruding from his wrists. Trembling eyes following the direction of the man pushing the rusted wheel barrel through dunes of orange, she found herself led to a simple battlefield, bodies and unfinished shallow graves littering the ground beneath them as the peak of a mansion made itself known through the thick fog in the distance.

That inescapable sound of cushions flattening themselves against the couch woke her from the small reverie she found herself stuck in, widened eyes looking over the woman through blushing cheeks as she realized she was absentmindedly twirling within the middle of the room to properly catch a glimpse of the numerous works of arts in the woman's possessions. Shyly faking a cough, she hurriedly stepped forth and took a seat opposite of the black-haired woman, placing the bundle of portraits against the side of the chair she sat upon. "Yvette Dusong, Madame." She replied meekly, hands resting firmly upon her knees as she avoided eye contact with the woman. Furrowed brows cocked themselves inquisitively at her request, a soft murmur rolling through her throat as she slowly grabbed the nearby stack of papers and a black pencil off the table. "If . . ." She continued in a whisper-like voice, pausing for a few brief moments as she leaned in over her knees to start sketching. "If you don't mind me asking just . . . what kind of offer, do you have in mind?"

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]
 
[SIZE=12pt] Yvette Dusong. A name that sounded like it belonged to a girl in line for a throne, curling delicate fingers around the arms of a velvet-plush chair that sat far above the masses. Although a beautiful name could truly just be a façade over normalcy, it made Matsu wonder just where this woman had come from, how she’d ended up on a transport muddled with the dregs of society. There were thousands of cultures that shunned the Force – perhaps she hailed from one of them, a refugee once ejected from the only home she’d ever known. Matsu was letting her imagination run wild as the girl did the same within the living room made colorful by horror on every wall. The Atrisian came from an extremely well-off family herself. Had she stayed she would have been poised to take over a lucrative real estate business catering to clients all over the Inner Core, the richest of the rich. She would have made hundreds of thousands of credits a year.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] The decision to strike out on her own had been better than staying home. She made millions of credits a year and saw things few in the Galaxy could dream of, let alone witness. She’d participated in countless wars, smelled blood so strongly it was stuck in her nose for weeks, felt brain under her fingertips, watched empires crumble, seen her fellow Sith accomplish incredible things. She’d done incredible things and was poised to perform more. She’d found purpose. She’d found pain. She’d found love. She’d found the one true path. And when she died she would sink to the Netherworld and take her place next to Darth Bane, Darth Zannah, Plagueis, Sidious, Kresh, Sadow. She’d take Aleema Keto’s hands and whisper of what wonder sith magic was, even as it ate you whole – what absolute megalomaniacal pleasure it was to cause the death of an entire star just because you could.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] But she was drawn back by the sound of the pencil dragging across paper as Yvette set to her work. She did not answer the woman’s question directly, instead turning back with a question that would hopefully loop them back to an answer should Yvette live up to the potential she possessed. “Do you know what the Force is?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] As she asked, she gently breeched Yvette’s mind, settling squarely in her subconscious. This was her primary talent, invading another’s mind, and she was good enough that her intrusion would go unnoticed by only the most skilled of mentalists. As Yvette drew, Matsu recreated each stroke of the pencil right next to the artist as she drew it though Matsu couldn’t see the page. The subject of Yvette’s sketch came to life right next to the blonde, the illusion moving to watch itself be drawn.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt][member="Yvette Dusong"][/SIZE]​
 
Soft whimpers slip through the girls quivering lips as her furrowed brows stare down towards her lap, the sound of charcoal etching itself firmly against the stacks of paper muffling the sounds of her breathing and that of humming engines zipping past the enclosed balcony. Shivers trickle down her spine, her body trembling weakly as her expression winces in a mixture of pain and discomfort, the uncontested breaching of her mind leaving pinprick like sensations against her forehead. Ghastly white engulfs the petite woman once she finds herself planted firmly within the auburn-haired girls subconscious, the grazing of paper providing an eerie melody for her ears. As far as she could see, her surroundings were nothing more than desolate plains engulfed in snow, only a pair of canvases nullifying the hypothesis that the sniveling girl was dead or unconscious. Three blocks of paper stood tall in a circular fashion, their length seemingly greater than a dozen meters while their width came to half. On either side of that circle were the portraits of an old man and an old woman respectively, their shape and forms constantly changing underneath a thick blur. The third and last was all but bare, lines slowly dragged across its length, the picture wholly resembling whatever Yvette was attempting to draw.

On the left, laid the portrait of a human male, his features defined with sharp and precise strokes. Curly gray hair covered his dome from the nape of his neck to the bottom tip of his forehead, unwashed and uncared for as speckles of dust and grime resided onto it. Emerald orbs rested firmly into his bloodshot sockets, a broken pair of glasses held together with nothing more than a piece of transparent tape hanging loosely off the thick bridge of his small nose. Hollow cheeks weakly clung to the shape of his jaw, the skin hanging off of it as if they were a layer of drapes. Full lips were cracked and discolored, a faint pink smeared upon them while the skin of his neck tussled downwards towards the collar of his shirt. A green checkered vest was laid on top of his white shirt, numerous tattered rags and clothes placed onto his shoulders and falling beneath his waist where the drawing itself stopped. His expression was one full of sorrow and pity, that of a man who has accepted his faith reluctantly and awaits his judgement.

On the right, laid the portrait of a human female, her features drawn in rough and blurred marks. Slick gray hair covered her dome from the upper bit of her forehead down to the back of her head, those silver locks wrapped together tightly in tail that reached her shoulders. Teal orbs rested firmly into her widened eyes, dilated pupils all but swallowing them whole as they seemed to fidget from one corner to the other. Plump cheeks carried numerous crumbs of bread and food onto them, her otherwise plush lips alternating constantly between a silent scream of fright or a puckered whisper. She wore nothing but a shredded dress with with numerous floral patterns, the straps hanging weakly off her bare and bruised shoulders while her pale hands were clasped firmly against her chest. Her expression was one filled with dread and terror, staring aimlessly into the abyss above her as her entire form shook and fidgeted relentlessly.

As for the middle painting, it slowly came to fruition underneath the girls nimble fingers. An arm extended itself from the left end towards the middle, rough fingers clenching themselves shut around a plump wrist, delicate fingers hanging loosely and absentmindedly down towards the bottom of the canvas. What appeared to be a snake coiled itself around the arm of the men, its body slowly being drawn as if to encompass his entire arm until it reached that moribund wrist, only to wrap itself around it and proceed downwards. It's body slowly entangled itself multiple between between each soulless digit until only the tip of them remained uncover, its form wrapping itself around that palm one final time before resting it's weary head on top of her knuckles. Slender tongue sneaked its way out of that enclosed mouth, its sharp fangs slightly poking out from underneath its upper lip as it stared menacingly towards the viewer.

"The Force?" Yvette asked in a meek tone of voice after a substantial pause, her concentration waning for a few brief moments as the entirety of the of her world began to shake viciously. "I . . . Know about it. A few things, here and there." She continued after another small break in her speech, the ground between those three canvases erupting so that an impish creature could fly out, its hardened skin blackened as if it were made out of precious gems. It had no distinct facial features to speak off on the entirety of its slender body, appearing as nothing more than a mass of stone if not for its frail limbs jutting outwards. With no wings or anything of the sort to speak of, it simply flew upwards into the seemingly endless sky above for a few dozen meters, only to twist and turn its body around midair. Eventually it brought itself to a halt, its boney claws clutching at thin air as it hurriedly seemed to fade beneath the woman's very eyes, only that ghastly white remaining where it once stopped.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

I am so fething sorry, both for the baffling delay to this post and the abhorrent quality for this.

 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom