Born of Inspiration-Redeemed by Creativity:Vida's Journal/Paintings

[Nightharrow]

Dwelling of Magic

The pacing of hooves danced before canvas and easel as Vida scrutinized her work. Dabs of paint freckled her ivory skin and stained the simple white and lavender dress she wore; the cost of inspiration. It had been only a few short hours since she had witnessed the view that was now a reflection of her memory. Capturing the cityscape her eyes had seen as she leaned over the railing had been easy. What her paintbrush struggled to portray was the feeling of a protective hand on the small of her back and its owner ensuring she did not fall over the edge in her pursuit to see it all.

[Nightharrow]

The brush swirling paint onto canvas was only a whisper of the echo singing in Vida's head. A mood dark and alien to the draenei had led her to forgo sleep in favor of getting the foreign words out of her head. The more she lingered on them, the more she felt isolated and twisted. However, when she followed the notes with her paint brush, lifting as the echo raised, swirling as the chorus repeated slowly serenity returned. When she finished, she laid her brush down and walked away; having no desire to see the outcome of such sadness.

Lament

[Nightharrow]

Flowing Heart

Vida tapped the button of her nose with the end of the paintbrush in her hand. "Perhaps it is done now," she thought. Then again, maybe not. She dabbed the brush back into the dob of crystal blue paint she kept on the back of her right hand and added a touch to the waterfall. She couldn't remember every detail of the beach, so for the most part she just painted what she imagined a tropical paradise to be. However, the waterfall had to be perfect. It had to shine.

[Nightharrow]

<Are you ready? Are you ready?>

Vida prodded her brush into a pool of purple paint and then lifted it onto her canvas. Long smooth strokes established the robe her muse was wearing, though really it was starting to take on the design of the one she had on. She did not linger too much on the details of the fabric, finishing it quickly. As she cleaned her brush and brought up a light blue paint to define the subject's face, she continued singing a draenic nursery song.

<Brother in the Light? Sister in the Light?>

Dab to the nose, under the eyes and a poof to the cheek. Her eyes dimmed in thought, recollecting the details was a little fuzzy. After a moment, the brightness returned to them and she moved onto his horns.

<The Naaru are coming. The Naaru are coming.>

Pausing, she considered whether or not she wanted to add a bit more light to his face. Or perhaps add the Gift the ancient and Holy creatures had blessed her people with.

<Din. Din. Din.>

While humming she shook her head, as if the conversation taking place there was spoken out loud and being held between her and the painting.

<Ah, papa. I worry that your face is lost to me now. You are missed so very much.>

Spoiler:

The song is to the melody of Frere Jacques.

[Nightharrow]

Arcane energy crackled the air around the mageling and her trot up the stairs to her room was heavy and ill-tempered. Her face twisted in confusion and annoyance and if any of the other students were up at this hour they would have been given the coldest glare Vida could muster. Which frankly, was not that cold. Still it was lucky for her that no one else was foolish enough to be up this late.

When finally inside the privacy of her room, she shut the door with the backwards shot of her hoof. Slam! The force at which the wood met stone was so loud it caused her to wince and tensed her stark white tail. She huffed and clacked her hooves over to her easel. With an angered sweep of her arm the painting tool was blown over by a cool blizzard wind. Brushes scattered and a jar of royal blue paint spilled out onto the hard wood floor. Even her favorite past time could not ease the hurricane raging inside of her and she was thankful the downpour did not start until she was behind a closed door.

"Light up when you see her. Sigh at her." With arms raised in frustration she moved around her room and mimicked what little of the complaints upon her person that she could translate. "Who? Who? Not me that who!" Her hooves scuffed against the wooden floor as her voice broke and she sighed. She placed her hands on her rounded hips and dug her teeth into her bottom lip angrily pouting at the mess she had made.

Defeated, the draenei slumped onto the floor and gathered each brush up one by one. As she worked, small sniffles heralded the onslaught of tears that slowly began to stream down her cheeks. Lit by the light of her eyes her sadness sparkled against her skin like water in an alabaster pool, but there was no one there to comfort her. Not even her new companion, Rocket, the speediest turtle in the whole world. As realization struck that she had left him back at the Sable Dragon Inn she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She felt like, Poyvida, the worst friend in the whole world.