mercy
a heart's a heavy burden
This was Mercy's first time seeing the lake.
She was new to Denocte, and hadn't really traveled it much yet -- but everywhere she went she heard the lake's name in casual conversation. Ever since she heard of it, Mercy knew she had to paint there. It was supposed to be beautiful, so still and perfect that it was practically a mirror to it's surroundings. But words couldn't do it justice.
The lake was so expansive it seemed nearly endless, but there was a coastline of trees dotting the far edge. What would be lush flowers and grasses in the spring swarmed the edges of the water, and a cool breeze was sifting lightly through the air that caused the surface of the water to ripple just barely. Mercy didn't know how she could possibly render the lake's beauty on mere canvas, but she was willing to try. If she came up with anything halfway decent, maybe she could stop by the Night Markets and see if they would sell.
Mercy was laid down in the grassed, her paints assorted in front of her as she fiddled with a paintbrush in her mouth. She was deep in thought while looking out at the landscape, wondering just how to form the composition of her next piece of artwork. The sun peeked through the clouds long enough to warm her back despite the winter's coolness, and if she weren't so focused she could have easily fallen asleep.
"It's beautiful," she mumbled to herself through the handle of the paintbrush. "I bet you're even prettier when the flowers can bloom."
Mercy sighed wistfully, daydreaming of springtime and meadows and trees filled with leaves. But there was something to be said about the beauty of winter, too. Barren, maybe, but also sophisticated in a weird way only nature could be.
Was she going to ponder all day, or was she going to paint?
Finally, with some form of resolve, Mercy decided she would just go with whatever seemed to flow out of her paintbrush. If she didn't like it, she would just scrap it and start all over. She had all the time in the world, after all.
Her paints and paintbrush floated around in the magic that all beings on Novus had. Eventually she had a palette ready, and a small white canvas before her. Mercy shifted a little in her spot as she dipped the brush into the paint and firmly sat it on the canvas. It was times like these that she was grateful for her stocky body and long hoof feathers, otherwise she would probably be shivering so much she wouldn't be able to paint at all. But with her body, seemingly built with colder weather in mind, she could comfortable sit here in the cold dead grasses for hours and feel perfectly content.
"speaking"
She was new to Denocte, and hadn't really traveled it much yet -- but everywhere she went she heard the lake's name in casual conversation. Ever since she heard of it, Mercy knew she had to paint there. It was supposed to be beautiful, so still and perfect that it was practically a mirror to it's surroundings. But words couldn't do it justice.
The lake was so expansive it seemed nearly endless, but there was a coastline of trees dotting the far edge. What would be lush flowers and grasses in the spring swarmed the edges of the water, and a cool breeze was sifting lightly through the air that caused the surface of the water to ripple just barely. Mercy didn't know how she could possibly render the lake's beauty on mere canvas, but she was willing to try. If she came up with anything halfway decent, maybe she could stop by the Night Markets and see if they would sell.
Mercy was laid down in the grassed, her paints assorted in front of her as she fiddled with a paintbrush in her mouth. She was deep in thought while looking out at the landscape, wondering just how to form the composition of her next piece of artwork. The sun peeked through the clouds long enough to warm her back despite the winter's coolness, and if she weren't so focused she could have easily fallen asleep.
"It's beautiful," she mumbled to herself through the handle of the paintbrush. "I bet you're even prettier when the flowers can bloom."
Mercy sighed wistfully, daydreaming of springtime and meadows and trees filled with leaves. But there was something to be said about the beauty of winter, too. Barren, maybe, but also sophisticated in a weird way only nature could be.
Was she going to ponder all day, or was she going to paint?
Finally, with some form of resolve, Mercy decided she would just go with whatever seemed to flow out of her paintbrush. If she didn't like it, she would just scrap it and start all over. She had all the time in the world, after all.
Her paints and paintbrush floated around in the magic that all beings on Novus had. Eventually she had a palette ready, and a small white canvas before her. Mercy shifted a little in her spot as she dipped the brush into the paint and firmly sat it on the canvas. It was times like these that she was grateful for her stocky body and long hoof feathers, otherwise she would probably be shivering so much she wouldn't be able to paint at all. But with her body, seemingly built with colder weather in mind, she could comfortable sit here in the cold dead grasses for hours and feel perfectly content.
chilly day <3 - @maeve - 473 words
