Silver and Blaze don't have that many good romantic fics, and that's a shame. I hope to fill that void.
On with the fic!
Dreams of a Revelation
Prologue
My name is Silver.
My life isn't really what you could call normal.
I grew up in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, fighting a continuous battle against a fire that would not be extinguished.
I was tricked by a dark being into going back in time.
I almost caused the very event I was trying to prevent.
I stopped a multidimensional being from consuming all of reality.
Then my life was reset, back to the very beginning.
This is what happened next.
The story of how I met Blaze for the first time…again.
The story of an event that could never fully be erased.
The story of love that endures, even through the warping of time and space.
This is my story.
Are you sure you want to listen?
Then I'll begin…
Chapter One
Starving Artist
It started as an ordinary day.
I got up, took a shower, had breakfast, washed up, then headed down to my basement.
Flicking on the light switch, I surveyed the rows upon rows of paintings, each resting on its own easel. Deciding upon three well-sized ones, I carefully laid them inside a suitcase, then closed the lid.
Oh yeah, that's something I forgot to mention. I'm an artist, a painter to be more specific.
It's a funny story, really. For several months I was merely a receptionist to an art gallery, working from 9 to 5 and receiving a meager salary.
Then one day, the gallery had a "create your own masterpiece" contest. Visitors could pay 5 for their own blank canvas. Employees got one free.
That night, I sat in my basement, staring at my canvas. I desperately tried to think of something original, something powerful. I wanted to make something people would remember.
Searching for inspiration, only one thing came to my mind.
The nightmare.
It was a recurring dream, one I'd had ever since I was a kid. I was trapped in a burning city, being pursued by an enormous flame creature. No matter where I turned, his creatures followed me. I always awoke terrified, convinced I was about to die.
Seeing nothing to lose, I started painting the cityscape as best I could remember, burned and scarred by the flames.
To my surprise, I turned out to be an excellent painter. I used flowing brushstrokes to accentuate the roaring flames, contrasting with the neat, precise strokes on the buildings.
I wrote in the bottom right corner Crisis City, by Silver. Copyright 2209.
I took the painting to the gallery the next day, where it blew away the judges. My piece was immediately the highlight, easily overshadowing the monotonous pictures of fruit in the rest of the show.
Once the show was over, the director took me aside and offered me high pay in exchange for getting exclusive showings of my artwork. Stunned, I agreed.
And that's how it started, basically. I painted images from my dream, showing the ruined city, the flames, and the monsters from many different perspectives. Critics ate it up, calling my vision of the future "oddly compelling and strangely believable."
Following this success, I planned to expand my paintings, showing how the flames had ravaged other parts of the world.
That was all I had – the day everything changed.
Closing the suitcase with a snap, I caught sight of a painting in the back, covered with a grey tarp. Pausing, I decided to take one look at it before I headed off to the gallery.
Carefully stepping my way around the easels, I made my way to the painting. I pulled off the tarp, causing a cloud of dust to rise into the air.
It was a girl.
She was beautiful, a cat girl emanating feline grace and dignity.
A light shade of lilac fur covered her entire form. Her eyes were mesmerizing, a striking shade of gold that had taken three hours to create. She wore a long purple coat, accentuating her slim figure.
I know it sounds weird, describing a painting like it was alive. It didn't feel like that to me.
You see, the girl was in my dream too.
She was with me the whole time, running from the flames and fighting the monsters. That girl was my only beacon of hope in that place.
That painting wasn't just a picture of my fantasy girl. I made it a portrait, trying to capture the girl as best I could.
She wasn't a fantasy to me; she just seemed to be an old friend who had gone missing.
That was why I kept this painting hidden, never to be sold even if I was down to my last dollar. Selling it wouldn't feel right, like I was giving the girl herself away.
I knew she was a fantasy; I just couldn't let go of her.
Several times, I tried to remove the painting, determined to sell it and end my obsession. But every time I took off the tarp and looked at her…all the reasons why my devotion was wrong seemed to melt away.
I sound pathetic, I know…but if you saw her the way I do, you'd understand.
Finished looking at the painting, I replaced the tarp and made my way back to the stairs, picking up the suitcase as I went. Sparing the covered painting one last look, I went up the stairs and turned out the light.
I walked out of my house, locking the door behind me.
I headed down the street, my thoughts still on the girl.
A flash of lilac moved past the corner of my eye.
I whirled around, my body reacting before my brain. I scanned the sidewalk frantically, trying to convince myself I wasn't hallucinating.
That's when I saw her.
It was the girl, true to the life and walking down the street across from me.
My mouth dropped open. The suitcase fell from my hand, forgotten.
The art gallery forgotten, I sprinted after her.
Well? How was it?
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