Wanders: Ascension
By Eve
Part Four: From The Flames of Hell
A.C 202
18 January
Paris, France
Painting was her life.
The vivid colors shone brightly at her, reflecting emotions
of all kinds. They told stories without words, of the hardships
and the triumphs, of the past, present, and future. It was the
only way she could express herself.
Painting was her freedom.
She carefully set the white canvas on top of the antique easel
her grandmother had given her a long time ago. A small smile
came to her face as she remembered the old woman's words.
I am a patron of art. I give chances to those who are oppressed because they
choose to express themselves. Dee, you have the ability to paint beyond what
anyone has seen. You have a talent that needs to be exposed, so that people
might see whom you are inside...
"That was before you could keep your doors unlocked," she
muttered, putting on her smock. She walked slowly to the table,
feeling a bit of ease with herself. It wasn't very often she had
time like this to herself. Granted the fact she was living alone,
she still worked long hours at the university.
She picked up several colors of paint, becoming particularly
fascinated with the light blue she held in her hands. She felt
her self-conscience falling deeper, forcing images of her past
to come to mind.
Sky-blue eyes.
Sparkling sky-blue eyes.
She shook her head out of an on-coming memory. There was
no time for them right now. She took a seat on top of the
barstool, making an attempt to become comfortable.
She hated being depressed. It took so much energy out of her
and caused her to space out. Yet, being depressed gave her
great inspiration to paint. It was ironic, but she was at her best
depressed. She grabbed her paintbrush and dipped it in a
burgundy color. Her wrist worked in a slow circular motion,
sometimes working vertical. She watched as half of the white
canvas transformed into a dark blood color. Next she dipped
her brush into a light red, adding it here and there. She followed
a similar process with other colors. She found herself drifting
off once in a while.
Sky-blue eyes.
Sparkling sky-blue eyes.
Eternal Damnation.
When would it ever end? When would she be free from this
endless torment? She wasn't allowed near her family, she was
sworn to follow certain obligations and rules, and she was
bound by a contract.
How bad could it get?
A strand of blonde hair brushed her eyes and woke her up
from her thoughts. Pushing it back, she looked up at her
painting and froze.
She had painted fire.
Burning flames ascending in an upward motion.
With a shaky breath, she let her fingertips trace her work.
"Oh God..." She felt it. She felt her past calling her back
to become who she was before.
She picked up her paintbrush again, not knowing what was
controlling her motives. She dipped the brush into the black
pain, watching with mild fascination how the paint seeped
into the brush. With sift and steady movements, she began
to paint.
When she was finished, she sat back and stared at her
work. She made no movement, not knowing what to
say or do. Staring back at her though was a black
masked becoming engulfed by the flames. There was
one thing she found unnerving.
She had drawn with the mask, a pair of sky blue eyes.
Dorothy Catalonia closed her eyes and signed. It was
inevitable.
The flames of hell had opened up and the Demoness
would ascend.
She would return.
**