#desert canvas
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lilymelancholy04 · 2 years ago
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~Prompt Inspired~
This is a series I have been longing to do. See, I have seen a lot of awesome prompts and I wished to read stories inspired from them. Unfortunately, I haven't seen any or maybe I just dont know where to find them so I decided to write a prompt inspired short story for myself. Here, here!
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This prompt is from pinterest, pinned from a blog called "Promptuarium.wordpress.com" from the author of the blog "thesolitarywordsmith". Credits to the maker of this prompt!
Title: Desert Canvas
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"Before I met him, this desert was just a monochromatic painting of browns and yellows; mundane and unappealing..." -The First Lady's Memoir
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Here in Coalsworth, bed space is a blessing and a slice of stale bread for breakfast is as rare as a drop of water in the desert. Everyone is doing hard labor all day as they mine out the rubies in Hell's Maw. Everyone is caked with dust hardened by sweat and the arid climate in the desert did not help in the heat. Everyone here is miserable, whether they be slaves, Royal Guards, or Mercenaries like me.
I planned to stay here until I finish my absurd quest: to capture a person with the title "World Changer". The King- who looked too healthy and too pale for the desert in my opinion- promised a handsome amount of money if I bring that person to them alive. The royals did not explain anything to me but from what I heard, there is a prophecy unknown to the public which foretold that a person entitled "World Changer" would bring down the monarchy and liberate the country of slavery. When they caught wind of my Ability to see titles of people's life stories- or fate as some call it- they immediately summoned me to hunt down this rebel.
And so here I am, drinking in the pub observing the boisterous drunks who entered and left. The titles I saw look like holographic signs above people's heads and are really synonymous with each other most of the time. "The Underdog", "The Fall guy", or "The Cheated" is typical in Coalsworth. After all, most people here are either slaves in the hierarchy, slaves of power, or slaves of money. Other titles in the pub are surprisingly more decent: "Loving Father", "Sacrificing Mother", and "Devoted Sister" are some of the most common but ultimately more wholesome and uplifting ones I have seen.
When not on duty, I often wonder how these titles came to be or how they will unfold. I found that these titles are predetermined. Even if it took a lifetime, one way or another, that title will be fulfilled somehow. In curiosity, I once looked at my title in the mirror and it was not as usual as others. "The Inspiration" is what it said. I saw this and gagged. I never took long in shaving my facial hair since then.
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"When I met him, this place became... bearable. Like a wash of watercolor on the scorching canvas of this wasteland..." The First Lady's Memoirs
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It was never on my bucket list to punch a Royal Guard but the bastard had it coming. One, he rudely invaded my personal space and took my beer. Two, he acted like he was the king of Coalsworth, and mind you, I have met the King of the country, and he acted just as dastardly. Third- and the worst- he tried to buy a night with me for fifty silver coins.
I mean, the nerve of that dog! Does he think I'm that cheap? I would have gone for a gold coin at least but fifty silver? What a cheapskate. So I punched the lights out of the guard. Unfortunately, his companions were also there so we got into a brawl. It was an easy win but the lady owner got angry at me for making a ruckus in the pub, threw a keg of beer at me, and knocked me out as well. When I came to, I was outside the pub, sticky with dried beer.
Instead of going to the inn, I decided to sit on the side of the road for a while to nurse the wound on my head. It is chilly in the desert at night but I did not mind. Neon signs flickered and the streets are still busy with activity. I looked around and saw interestingly dressed people with similarly interesting titles. "The Cavalier", "The Midnight Rose", "Lucky Charm".
"Those people look interesting, huh." A female voice said. I looked to my side and saw a woman sitting comfortably beside me. She wore a brown scarf covering her black hair, a long sleeve white top, and loose gray pants. Around her neck are numbers tattooed like a choker, the marks of a slave, which explains the numerous scars on her face and exposed skin.
I was about to make a witty response when I saw the title on her head.
"World Changer". My mouth went wide in shock.
"Staring is rude. I know I'm not a pretty thing to look at but bear with it until I finish speaking at least." She said.
I looked away but made sure she was in my peripherals. Who would've thought that that weird title actually existed?
"What do you want from me?" I managed to say.
"I came to thank you for teaching that bastard a lesson in my stead." She explained. She must mean the royal guard.
"There is no need to thank me. I did because he thought I was cheap."
She was silent for a while but she seemed to be studying me, uncertainty etched on her face.
"Whether you did it for yourself or not, you have my thanks. The woman he was harassing before you stepped in was my sister. If not for you, he would have forced himself onto her," she bit her lip, "and she would've been dead by tomorrow."
I grunted. I always felt uncomfortable receiving gratitude for something I did of my own volition.
"I understand your sentiments, but I won't accept the gratitude," I grumbled while I tried to stand up. "As I said, I did it because the mutt thought I was cheap. I know my worth and fifty silver coins won't cut." I said jokingly.
"How much are you worth, then?" She asked. I held my chin pretending to think deeply.
"Personally, I'd say a gold for a night. But my professional services are worth at least a hundred. You know, for the daily expenses."
"That's pretty expensive," she commented. "Then what do you think is mine?"
I gazed at her in wonder but she was looking at the ground. I understood what she was insinuating: she is asking me, a stranger, what I think a life of a slave is worth.
"I guess it depends," I started.
She looked at me with a questioning gaze.
"The only one who can tell me that is you. How much do you think are you worth? Name your price and we can start with that."
At that, the woman slowly smiled. Her dimples dipped and her facial scars stretched as if a weight had been taken off her shoulders.
I could knock her out and take her to the king now; that is the easiest way to finish this quest. But that relieved smile made me feel guilty.
"Lhandar, the Fate Hunter." I flinched at the sappy monicker that the Underground Association gave me.
So she knew who I was from the beginning. I looked at her in the eyes. Her title "World Changer" beamed so brightly above her head that it made me squint slightly.
"What do you want from me?" I asked, for the second time tonight.
A soft wind blew and her brown scarf fluttered. The neon signs accentuated the depths of her scars as she stood properly to face me. It was then that I saw her skin that was kissed by the sun and her slim yet muscular frame. She was too dignified to be a slave; too bold and too regal. Her eyes shone, reflecting the bright neon lights, as they were fixed intensely on me. She stood before me like a proper King.
"Tell me my fate." She demanded.
After a minute of silence, I sighed. I decided to not prolong the inevitable.
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"As we journeyed together, I came to enjoy his company. I never knew the desert could be filled with such deep reds and oranges, blues and greens..."- The First Lady's Memoirs
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"How are the preparations going?" A woman's voice called as she entered the room where I am being dressed. The "Midnight Rose" title glowed in pink above her head as the lovely lady in the deep purple dress slowly waltzed towards me. When she reached me, she eyed my clothing meticulously and asked for a brooch to be added.
"I still don't understand why I had to attend, Roxy. I told you, I don't need recognition. Some gold and food is enough compensation if you really want to thank me." I grumbled as one of the maids asked me to raise my head so she could pin an expensive looking ruby brooch with golden chains.
Roxy frowned, but as expected of the "Midnight Rose", her frown still looked dashing. I bet even if she wore the most ragged clothes in this desert, men and women alike would still grovel at her feet.
"Lhandar, dearest, no amount of gold would be enough to commemorate your contributions. We won because of you." She said as she messed my hair a little with her silky hands. "There, you look more attractive with messy hair."
"Hey, you all are done yet?" Another voice called. This time, a young dark skinned, blond man in a dark robe and teal sash entered. His turban was littered with small green jewels and his title showed "Lucky Charm" in green.
"You look delectable, Yusaf." Roxy commented which made the young man scratch the back of his head in embarassment. I guess Yusaf still has a thing for Roxy. Then again, who wouldn't?
"Anyway, I came to check if you haven't run away yet, Lhandar." Yusaf grinned.
This cheeky brat knows I hate these formal gatherings. We once had to present ourselves in a banquet to earn the support of a certain chief. The preparations alone were suffocating. Imagine my suffering during the gathering.
I almost ran away successfully but I was caught by Yusaf.
"Lhandar, Yustaf, Roxanne!" Another one came striding in. What is with these people visiting me today?
"Haitham, are you here to check on Lhandar, too?" Yustaf snickered.
The tall, muscly man in navy blue robes guffawed. I felt one of the maids fixing the golden sash on me flinch.
Seriously, "The Cavalier" title doesn't suit this big buffoon.
"Oh, Haitham, lower down your voice, will you? The maids are frightened." Roxy warned as she slapped his arm.
"Sorry, Roxanne. I was worried that Lhandar will run away like a coward."
I snorted as I pointed a finger at him. "What's wrong with being a coward? It saved my life and yours plenty of times before." I chided while a maid expertly maneuvered to pin some ruby cuffs on my sleeves.
"'Retreating for another day and running away are two different things.'" Haitham quoted. " You said that."
"Apparently, Lhandar can lead the frontlines of battalions but will tremble at the thought of attending formal gatherings." Yusaf and Haitham laughed. Roxy covered her face and chuckled.
"You all should just go away if you're going to make fun of me." I grumbled. "Besides how are you all done when I am still here dressing up?"
The three looked at each other knowingly.
"You really have no idea?" Yusaf finally asked. I only pursed my lips.
Just before things got awkward, there was a soft knock on the door. A deep voice called.
"Lord Lhandar is being summoned to the First Lady's room."
The maids retreated and ushered me to the door. Before we left the room, Roxy spoke.
"Lhandar, I hope you understand your worth to us and the whole new world we are establishing. You are worthy for this." Roxy said in a tender voice.
I smiled and nodded despite my reluctance. The aide and some maids led me to the First Lady's room and I heard the door close behind me.
Honestly, I have an inkling as to why I was being dressed up so carefully. Of all of us, I am the only one dressed in bright colored silk robes, ruby encrusted accessories and gold ornaments.
I can guess what is going to happen, but I do not wish to believe that they want me to escort her for her formal appointment as the First Lady of the democratic movement.
Roxy said I was worthy, but am I? This question has been occupying an unhelathy amount of space in my head after we won the war- even more than the unhealthy amount of space being taken up by her already.
I did nothing but tell them their destiny and provide some assistance. Regardless of my help, they were meant to be victorious, adored and showered with fortune. And the First Lady, she is meant to change the world. This is their fate.
And me? I was just a mercenary who lived for money. Who am I to be worthy of such loyalty and affection from these blessed people? Who am I to escort the First Lady?
Who am I that the one who turned the world upside down would want me to be introduced as her equal in front of the subjects she would govern?
"We have arrived." The aide with a deep voice said.
I looked up as the guards opened the door and what I beheld was the most breathtaking scene in the world.
She wore a white silken dress that fit her slender figure wonderfully. It had golden sewn hems and patterns of dunes and the sun that paralleled her raidiance. She had two ruby brooches like mine that held her whote robe with red undelay squarely on her shoulders. And her gloves looked elegant as she beckoned me to come in.
"Staring is rude, Lhandar. Save it once we are alone." The First Lady said light-heartedly.
I blushed but managed a strained chuckle and went in.
She walked towards me gracefully and I noticed how her skin sparkled. Her scars and slave tatoo were not concealed, instead, they accentuated them with glitter.
She stopped a few inches before me, her hair was tied up in a neat bundle with strands of her curly black hair loosely framing her face. She wore a ruby encrusted hair ornament that made her look like the bright sun herself. Above her head hovered her title "World Changer".
I felt conflicted as I looked down and read her title. This woman has changed the world as we knew it. But why is she looking at me as if I changed hers?
"Lhandar," the First Lady called my name fondly.
"Yes, First Lady?"
"Don't be so cold." She raised her gloved hand and caressed my face. I wanted to lean in but refused my urge. "We didn't have time to spend alone ever since the battle and we had been busy with all the meetings and visitations. Now that everything has mostly settled, we will now formally announce our ideals and hopes for the future of this country."
I nodded. She pursed her lips at my stubborness.
"But Lhandar, I could feel that you're not happy with something. You kept calling me that title instead of my name ever since we won, as if you're pushing yourself away from me."
I kept silent and honestly, I don't think any words could get me out of this situation unscathed. What could I say? That I feel unworthy of being beside her? That I feel like she should be with someone with a better background and social standing than me? That even though I love her and want to be with her, I will give it up if it means she could secure a better political position by being with a more suitable man? That I would give up anything for her to reach her dreams ultimately?
"Lhandar, speak to me." She said, her brow creasing in worry. I sighed.
"I didn't mean to offend you, First Lady-"
"Stop calling me that!" She turned away and walked closer towards a huge mirror clad wall.
"Is that all I am worth to you now? A First Lady?"
"No! That's not-"
"What is my worth to you, then, Lhandar?" She demanded.
I gazed at her dignified figure and title above her head.
"You- you are the bravest and strongest woman I have ever known. You just changed the world and no amount of gold could compare to your worth for all your accomplishments.
"But I-" I exhaled as I tried to convey my thoughts properly. "I am just a mercenary for hire whose worth is at most a hundred gold. I am not worthy to be by your side."
She stayed still before the mirror but after a while, she spoke.
"Come here, Lhandar." She said. I followed.
I saw our reflections, side by side. I am a little taller than her and my tanned skin complemented hers well. I wore a white dress shirt and slacks with golden hem and embroidery topped with a white waistcoat. i was clad in ruby accessories. My pale hair was messy because of Roxy but it looked in character so I appreciated the look.
"What do you see?" She asked and gestured at our reflections.
I looked at her questioningly but complied.
"I see myself, uncharacteristically well dressed. And I see you, looking surprisingly gorgeous." I said jokingly. She smiled, but just a little.
"You said you see the title of people's fate above their heads?"
"Yes."
"What is my fate, Lhandar?"
I looked at her reflection and recited it in awe as the first time i declared it to her.
"World Changer." She nodded.
"Now, Lhandar, what is yours?"
I blinked, startled. She asked this to me once before, and we both laughed at how absurd it was. Why is she bringing this up again?
I looked at my reflection and my title.
"The Inspiration." I murmured. She looked at me fiercely and glared.
"Say it louder."
"Wha- why should I-" she punched my arm hard and I was taken aback.
"Alright, alright," I said as I nursed my poor arm. "The Inspiration. There, happy?" She humphed and looked back at our reflections again.
"How do you think I became the World Changer, Lhandar?"
I looked at her in question for the second time.
"I don't know." I said honestly.
"It started when I first asked you for my life's worth when I was still a slave. You told me that it is only I, myself that could put a price on it. You told a slave like me that no other person can dictate my worth. And after that is history as we know.
"You say you're just a mercenary who is worth a hundred gold and that compared to me, you are nothing. But allow me to correct you."
She turned to face me her fierce bright eyes piercing through my soul.
"This World Changer was only inspired to take action because of you. Don't you think you are worth more than a hundred gold for that?"
I looked back at my reflection and gazed at my title: "The Inspiration". It sounded pathetic and laughable back when I was living as mercenary. It was a rough life and sometimes, people mocked me for being a slave to gold.
But now that we are here, in this room, dressed in our victory attire and together; it didn't sound pathetic anymore. Having the love of my life make sense of it and spell it out to my face was embarassing but, it made me feel happy to know that she saw me as one befitting of that title.
I looked at her and smiled.
"Thank you, Kira." I said. She beamed, her scars stretching and her dimples dipped beautifully.
"Are you ready to be escorted, my Inspiration?" She raised her arm in a hook. I laughed as i took her gloved arm.
"Yes, World Changer. Get me out of here and quick." I said as we walked out of the room into the Great Hall.
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"As my life painted out and eventually ended, he made everything feel worthwhile. My Inspiration, you filled my hopeless life with colors and inspired me to change this world for us." - The First Lady's Memoirs
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mishori-o · 1 year ago
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Comfort doodle
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1kk4ku · 5 months ago
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i need to Squash them
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jeena-says-hi · 2 months ago
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My bio: “will make occasional fanart”
The fanart in question:
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uhhgoodd · 9 months ago
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Desert at Dusk (1928) by Audley Dean Nicols
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auriidae · 1 year ago
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gently slides you two silly scar headcanons..
1) he has vex wings, same as cub, but thinks they're scary-looking so he keeps them folded up. they're pretty thin and only semi-corporeal so he can pull this off with minimal discomfort most of the time
2) he is a very subtle shapeshifter but just. has never noticed ghfsjf. (so things like hair color, body type, face shape, and the appearance of nonhuman traits like his ears + tail change gradually over time. scar is and has always been completely unaware of this) (this is partially an explanation for why i draw him looking completely differently depending on the series but also to account for his many characters + skins. plus it's hilarious)
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lionofchaeronea · 9 months ago
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Desert Scene, Francisco Lameyer, 1863
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czarojay · 2 years ago
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《 Dress me in red and throw your roses 》
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Dtiys by @cherrifire ♡
< reblogs appreciated >
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desertowlet · 11 months ago
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A new case to crack for Belgium's most famous reporter! I wonder what new adventure he will embark on this time? 🔎🗺
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A Rainy Evening
Thank you to everyone who came to the stream yesterday! I had a lot of fun working on this piece both during and after, and the style experimentation made this one really pop. Be sure to click in and zoom to see all the lovely texture from the brush I used, because that's the best part imo :D
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artandthebible · 26 days ago
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Saint John the Baptist Preaching in the Desert
Artist: Jean Baptiste Henri Deshays (French, 1729–1765)
Date: c. 1758–1764
Medium: Oil on Canvas
Collection: Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago, IL, United States
Description
A precocious talent, Jean-Baptiste Deshays married the daughter of Rococo artist François Boucher and became his protégé. Although best known as a painter of religious subjects, Deshays often employed the soft, highly fluid manner that Boucher used for his amorous “boudoir” pictures. In fact, this work was for a long time believed to be by Boucher. The subject of the painting derives from the Gospel of Matthew: seated before the multitude and with arms dramatically outstretched, John the Baptist warns, “Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
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stiffyck · 2 years ago
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Hello I am just slightly insane
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pride-duo · 6 months ago
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who here.fw my desertduo fanart #i love desert duo
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It's been a minute since I've made any art for this fandom, so I figured I should do something!
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marejadilla · 28 days ago
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Eric Merrell, "Desert Spectrum", oil on canvas. B. 1978, Gilroy, California, based in Los Angeles.
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galleryofart · 25 days ago
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The Taos Twins
Artist: Ernest Martin Hennings (American, 1886-1956)
Date: 1923
Medium: Oil on Canvas
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