art scraps

art scraps Mar 3, 2022 12:27:29 GMT -5

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Post by thompson harvard - d2b - arc on Mar 3, 2022 12:27:29 GMT -5

There was mostly silence for a second, only filtered by the sound of shoes on the sand. He speaks up and I'm only forced to listen. Might as well if we're gonna be fighting together for a little bit. I get the sense that, like me, he has also never experienced much comradery. We were not a disciple of some naturally-born leader like Bartholomew and Philip for Christ. "Must be nice. Living alone with a bunch of horses." A grin spreads upon his face like a cat or the devil when he's found someone to tempt with his charm. Maybe it was real, but the snake that tightens around my chest gives a light feeling of disbelief. He's only here to live, he doesn't care about me. "I would enjoy it. Just sit down with my notepad and pencil and just draw for the rest of eternity." There's a silence. "Nobody would ever see me again."

Back to being the mega bitch, I see. Maybe he was being real if he was so obsessed with art. Artists are good people, right? They paint the good things. The pretty things highlight the world as a fantasy rather than a nightmare. He seems to be in a place where the world seems like a nightmare, so all he could ever want is his own dream.

Whatever that is.

I used to think the same thing when it came to the barn - that I could live by myself. Which I did for a long time. I would feed the horses, the few chickens and then go up to the loft. Hands behind my head and a string of straw in my mouth as I take a nap. That was the plan, just stay there 'til I die. Not that I won't be going right back there anyway. However, that's not always how it is.

"You know, when I lost my dad I thought the same thing." I let out a laugh, that sounded disbelieved that I'd think of it, "January kind of changed that. Who, small world moment, is related to the guy I'm named after." It was a really weird moment. I remember the anger. The fury I felt for having no care in the world for the people your legacy comes from. I felt like I knew everything I could about Appa. The war. The shelter in their barn. The candles. All that crap, but I felt some anger that legacy didn't matter to the guy.

I still don't get it. But as January has said before, "That shit was 90 years ago".

"Sometimes being alone was nice. Sometimes it sucked. I guess it kind of depends how at peace you are with what got you there." I gave a shrug upon speaking about it, looking out as if I was on the edge of the ocean watching the waves. But there were no waves. "For me, I guess I just wasn't at peace with letting my families' legacy die so young."

We deserved more.

I'm here to fight for more.

There was a big sign that said 'SCRAPYARD' with some doors that led into it. Guess that's our first stop. Maybe we can find something useful - there's some saying that trash is a man's treasure. While treasure isn't exactly art, maybe art will be what keeps Canvas alive.

I don't know what'll keep me.

[collects that snazzy falcon mech, the toolbox and antidote]
[gets that knife thingy installed]
[uses bandages on self for -1]
[f/a on self for -3]

art scraps Mar 3, 2022 23:40:28 GMT -5

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Post by Knuckles on Mar 3, 2022 23:40:28 GMT -5

Maybe it's best just to remain silent, to not care about people, to have a cold heart in the midst of this terrible place, yet that's far from reality. Canvas cares, probably too much, and he knows he shouldn't. Everyone here is the enemy, everyone here has to die, and some will die by his hands if he ever wants any hope of making it out of this alive.

But he watches people carry themselves with allies just the same as they carry themselves alone. Maybe not having a friend would help him better than having one, yet Canvas couldn't turn down helping someone when they needed it. That could easily be a fatal flaw.

Or maybe he could win people over with that.

Would it work?

Truth is, nothing will work, and while Canvas carries himself in a way that he tries to show off more confidence than he actually has. Death scares him, it terrifies him, and maybe that's why having a friend will help him carry on.

"You know, when I lost my dad I thought the same thing." Then he laughs, and it completely catches Canvas off guard. Maybe being alone in a barn coloring for days wasn't as good of an idea as it seems. Most of his time was spent alone back home anyway. It wouldn't matter to him. Having some company was never a bad thing, but why would he laugh? Is being an artist a bad thing?

For the first time, he wishes he wouldn't have ever said a word. It's silly, and maybe it makes him naïve, but that's his life. Maybe if he picked his head up every now and then he would see the world that passed by. After a long walk, the ideas that came to his mind when he got home to his notepad.

Of course it's all a dream.

"Sometimes being alone was nice. Sometimes it sucked. I guess it kind of depends how at peace you are with what got you there."

Canvas nods. Some don't seem to realize he prefers being alone. Being alone with his own thoughts without anyone judging him is his favorite way to pass time. Maybe that's why it's difficult getting to know someone.

"For me, I guess I just wasn't at peace with letting my families' legacy die so young."

Gathering his thoughts is important, and right now Canvas is afraid of letting someone down. Is it worth dying alone without a story to tell? His family is haunted by death, and this time it isn't even his fault. Not once did he ask for this - who would? And he thinks of the reapings he saw on his way here on the train, and some refused to pick anyone to replace them.

"I guess being alone all the time isn't a good thing." He shrugs his shoulders while listening to the sound of his feet carry him through the sand. "My mom all the time has told me that I need to get out and see the world, but I always told here I didn't need to. She's always afraid I'd just stay locked in my room forever."

The scenery changes, and for a moment, Canvas takes a look around. Talking isn't something he's good at. Talking will never get him out of any mess alive. Talking will be his downfall.

"There's so many Hopes back home that I doubt me dying would destroy their legacy."

I doubt they would even remember me.

credit to griffin <3