Watercolor
'The painting is the heart of the artist.' They said. For everything he could not say, he transferred them all to the canvas. There lay the hidden feelings which were deeper than any of words could express.
.
Probably all the other Gold Saints would be surprised if they knew Shaka actually liked painting. Who would not? The man with his eyes closed all the time, was the last one they expected to have a hobby such as painting. But he did. However, let's not discuss about how his skills were, good or bad, not yet. The reason behind that fad was far more important.
The Virgo gentleman came to this avocation completely by chances, when he visited a temple and met a monk who was also an artist. He immediately fancied the scent of ink on paper, and therefore could not help opening his eyes to contemplate the artwork. It was a magic to Shaka's eyes, under the monk's few brushstrokes, a heaven scene quickly appeared. It was the scene of the same temple, but in the painting, every leaf, every tile appeared to be hundreds time more lively than when he saw them with his own eyes.
'How magnificent, there are even those that are brighter than which of the nature itself.' Shaka extolled with sincerity.
'No, gentleman, these are no better than which of Mother Nature.' The monk replied moderately. 'There are no such things that are better or worse. By looking at the painting, you are seeing the view from my eyes, and it just may appear that I see everything with brighter colors than you do.'
'It is the same scene, no matter through one's eyes or another's. If not for your talent, then which can make it different?' Shaka questioned.
'There is just one view, one scene, but how to take that scene, it depends on the eyes that see it.' The monk smiled indulgently. Then he handed Shaka the brush and said. 'Why don't you try it for yourself?'
That was how Shaka started the habit. Everything was alright at first, he grabbed the basic techniques quickly. However, after months and years of practising, Shaka was still far from satisfied with his work. There was always something missing in his paintings, no matter what he chose to draw and how correctly he portrayed it. His drawings were always so gloomy and dull, even after countless attempts of changing colors.
Once, when he had the chance to visit the monk artist again, he brought with him a painting of his. It was the picture of the temple in the morning, the same as what the monk had shown him on the first time they met.
'I don't understand. I did it exactly just like you did. But it looks like a dead picture.' The young gentleman said.
'I told you on that day, because we saw it with different pairs of eyes.' The monk answered calmly. 'And we felt it with different hearts. Gentleman, if you say your painting lacks of something, look at your own heart and see what is missing.'
After the visit, Shaka did not touch his brushes for quite some time. He comprehended the monk's words, and he too knew well what he was missing. It was just, he had been afraid to show it. He came to painting primarily to keep himself away from his unwanted feelings, but as he painted and painted, the parts he wanted to hide just appeared more clearly than ever. The path he chose to run away, turned out to be a perfect mirror.
So he then decided to face it. The first time after many months abandoning his brushes, Shaka chose to paint what he had been longing to draw the most.
Strokes of pink, for the silky hair.
Touches of green, for the emerald orbs.
And a pair of red dots, to enhance the exquisiteness of beyond compare.
For the very first time, his painting was no longer apathetic. For he had poured his heart out for it.
.
The Virgo's chamber was, for a long time, filled with its owner's artwork. However, probably no one would ever have the chance to contemplate them. After Mu came back, Shaka also abandoned his habit of drawing, he kept his tools and paintings inside his drawers but did not have the intention to use them ever again. In fact, he truly hoped he would never have to use them. The real subject was here, he needed not to use brush to paint the image, need not to use his imagination to picture how Mu looked like after years they had not met.
It was only by coincidence, when Mu was searching for some books in his drawers that he found out about the drawing tools. But before the Aries could open any scrolls to see the artwork, he was caught into the arms of a certain Virgo knight.
'Bad lamb, it's not cute to peep on others' belongings.' The blond teased as he locked his dearest in his tight embrace, while he playfully nibbled his sensitive earlobe.
'Shaka...' Mu stirred at the intimate touch. He turned around to face Shaka and hugged his neck fondly. 'Can I see your paintings?' He wheedled.
The Virgo chuckled amusedly at his lover's loveliness. Sweet Mu, what could he not do for him?
'I would love to say yes, but truthfully, you need not to see those paintings, you already have what they have on them.'
'Already have? What did you draw?' Mu questioned curiously.
Shaka then tightened his grip around the slim body. He lowered his head and whispered to Mu's ears.
'My heart.'
[Two days left]
