a/n. so um. this is for andie (fading colors) because she's lovely and wonderful and she didn't get a secret santa since she was in charge. merry christmas , and this is just an itty bitty drabble and it's not very good and i'm sorry but ily and i hope you like it anyway.
Word count: 226
i disclaim.
better left unseen
Rachel Elizabeth Dare paints her prophecies in vivid colors with thin brushes, on canvases that have been stripped and painted over time and time again.
Her movements are smooth but quick and decisive. Her eyes are narrowed; but, really, they do not see the canvas in front of her. They see dying heroes, bloody battlefields, and hard-earned victory. They see the rising of villains and the fall of empires, and things so far into the future that even Apollo could not decipher their meaning.
And when they are dried, she traces lines and curves and shadows. Sometimes she wishes she could slash through the canvas, as if it would change the course of events. But she does not.
Rachel places the paintings in a small closet in her cave, one on top of the other, in teetering stacks gradually becoming covered with dust.
Sometimes the prophesying episodes leave her so drained, both physically and emotionally, that she falls into bed, her hands and clothing still streaked with paint and her eyes still glowing faintly, edged with that unnatural shade of green.
She used to believe that all art was beautiful. It's about expression, about saying something, or seeing it, she'd said. And there's something amazing about expression. But she'd learned better. Everything, if you look closely enough, is ugly, and some things are better left unseen.
a/n. i don't usually write rachel, so I'm not sure how i did, but…