Chapter Text
It is a scene as if coming straight out from a picture book, with flowing spring and evergreen trees. Passing through the leaves, the sun cast its warm, dazzling light toward the field of young, fresh grass. From behind the bushes, sights of multiple flowers can be seen, add in a touch of red, a touch of yellow, then a touch of purple. A perfect stage, a perfect background, a perfect start for what could be the most beautiful story, or the finest poem.
-…
Yet, a scene is, in the end, just a scene.
By itself, it cannot carry any real meaning, any feeling that may linger in the mind of those who view it. Without the center point, the truest essence that the surrounding supposed to be adding to, a painting is nothing more than soulless view of flower in the eyes of even the best beholder.
Dusk understands this. She has drawn sceneries like this multiple times before. She knows what needed to be added in next. The final touch. The last piece of the puzzle. The only task left before she can be satisfied with this painting and lay it down next to mountains of her other works.
And yet, once again…
Dusk pauses.
Her hand stops moving. Her fingers loose. Her brush…
-…
She puts it down on the table, next to the silky white cloth that serves as a canvas. An unfinished piece. No matter how completed and whole and grand and scenic other may see it, it’s still not done. Not yet, and Dusk cannot, even with her most valiant effort, finish it.
Slowly, the surrounding view starts falling apart, like ink being washed down by water. The forest, the spring, the sunlight. Everything’s fading away, leaving behind an old room with multiple book cases standing and papers scattered across the wooden floor. There are no doors, no windows, no sun, no moon, no sky. The only thing that helps people make out the shape of a room are the boundaries surrounding, sometimes look as flat and even as walls, sometimes as curved and twisted as smoke. A confined timeless space that was drawn by Dusk.
This is her workplace, her room, her painting, her realm, her world.
-…
Looking at the unfinished painting, Dusk quietly sighs.
Dusk is a painter by any sense in the world.
Arguably the most talented and experienced painter, but a painter nonetheless.
Times to times has she found herself in this state, unable to pick up her brush and let it dance on the canvas.
No, that is not correct. Dusk can still draw. Never once in her long, long life has she forgotten how to draw, even right now. If she wants to draw a rock, she can draw a rock. If she wants to draw a tree, she can draw a tree. If she wants to draw a human, she can draw a human. If she wants to draw everything together, she can draw a whole village with stone roads, small gardens and people walking by. Her skill with the brush has never become dull, not even the slightest.
Right now, she simply doesn’t know what to draw.
A creative block.
It hasn’t been that long actually.
As usual, Dusk will start with an idea, specific or vague, it’s all the same. As more things get added in, a chain of what to draw next will begin to form in her mind. It’s not an easy task, despite how subconscious she might be when making the chain. The chemistry of colors, the balancing of distances, the diversity of sizes. And, most importantly, the meaning.
The idea that the whole picture carries. What does it imply, and it’s implied from what.
Making it so that no matter how a person may describe the painting they see, whether it’s from far to near or from inside to outside, they can always reach at least one destination. A conclusion that will make the journey worthwhile.
It’s this aspect that Dusk’s been struggling with recently. More precisely, she can’t figure out what should be the final goal, the piece that the painting is centered around.
Dusk is not unfamiliar with this kind of situation. In times, she will get things together again. It will be in a short or long while doesn’t matter. After who know how long of letting the art of drawing becomes her one and only lifestyle, it’s hard to meet a new work-related problem that can make her wavers.
That’s being said…
Waiting for this state to end isn’t getting any easier.
Like, it’s even more irritating now.
Why though? Dusk shakes her head. A stupid question. She fully knows the answer. What’s the point of asking herself like that?
It’s because of Rhodes Island.
Dusk had just moved in for less than a year, yet it was clear from the start that this company offers more than just a place to stay and an official job (though Dusk hardly cares about doing any things more than the minimum required). It was Nian that introduced her. And, she hates to admit it, but her sister was true to her words. Rhodes Island is much different than any place she has ever been to. For the greater good or whatever aside, it’s uncommon for the place to be in any state that could be described as “calm” or “peaceful” at any given moments with so many loud and noisy individuals around, something that Dusk could never stand for her life. Strangely enough, Dusk was okay with this, as long as she isn’t getting dragged into some messy stuff and is allowed to stay in her room, the one that she made, not the arranged.
Yes, as long as she can stay in her own space, sometimes take a glimpse at what nonsense business’s happening outside, the deal will still be to her favor. As loud and noisy and annoying some of her co-workers might be, her sister included, they are all unique people from different cultures with different tales. With this, Dusk can have an endless amount of inspirations to think about. A mixing bowl that’s more fun to stand outside and watch rather than being a part of.
Yes, it should have worked like that…
-Is this scenery really that beautiful? –Dusk places her face on her palm as she lazily takes a look at the painting.
The downside of having so many unique things is that nothing is unique anymore. It’s hard to spot what is the true central part when there are no supplementary. And it really pisses her off. The feeling of not knowing what to draw when there’re literally so many things happening to even keep track off is just the worst, so many time and opportunities wasted. And all she can do about it is to wait. Sure, she can just use this down period to draw some sketch, some pieces that aren’t needed to be completed, some practicing to kill time. But it gets old real quick, especially when Dusk can bring out 5 to 6 more than acceptable throwaway works a day, works that she made with little to no effort, and usually got distracted in the middle of making.
So, yeah, right now Dusk is very bored, and displeased, and uncomfortable, and somewhat angry, all the feelings that she cannot stand.
-…
Again, she sighs. Who know how many times she has sighed in the last couple of minutes.
This won’t do. This is not good. Dusk doesn’t want to accept this. She won’t accept this. Just sitting around doing nothing is one of the lowest things on her to-do list, even lower than eating Nian’s volcanic mess that she calls a hotpot.
Then again, all she’s been doing is complaining and saying how she won’t just sit it out, which isn’t any better.
Big talks, she mocks herself. What to do then? She really doesn’t have a clue.
No, another lie. Another attempt to try soothing herself.
Dusk does have a clue. She does have an idea. She had thought about it right after the block started, and almost immediately hated herself for it.
A state she can’t stand, or an idea she can’t stomach. What could be worse than having to choose between 2 evils?
Dusk has chosen, and today, she is ready to admit that her first choice was wrong, which means, there is only one thing to do next.
It will be worth it, it will be worth it. Dusk tries to convince herself, wrinkles take shape on her forehead. Despite her best effort, her soul still can’t come to term which what she’s about to do. It’s that bad of an idea. There’re also no ways to make sure that things will work out.
But everything is better than staying like this.
That’s right. It’s also not like she only just found a reason to leave her room. For quite a while, Dusk has had things in her mind that urge her to go out, something she needs to do. The situation right now is simply the tipping point.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Dusk begins standing up.
With the amount of time she’s spent kneeling, normal human would have had their legs go completely numb, but Dusk is anything but your normal human. She wanders her eyes, and starts to walk around. Just for a bit, she needs to mentally prepare herself.
Finally, after how many days (weeks?), Dusk temporarily closes off her room, and decides to go outside.