talishs

[talishs]

5x7 oil & pan pastel painting

(used ref photo from pixabay)

Vignette

The sakura tree stood tall, though its branches weeped slightly, as of reaching for the forlorn figure that rested against its trunk. They seemed like an older person, features sunken and hollow as gray tinged their hair. The tree seemed to droop a little more as the figures breathing shallowed, slowly becoming less and less frequent until they tapered away entirely. Their last breath to the world was met with crashing silence, like the sky itself was mourning the loss of yet another hero.

A small note lingered in their hands, a note that was not unlike the others sent to a lover lost to the Hero’s fate.

Hello, Il Mio Amore. It has been a while since I’ve written, I fear. I apologize for that. I guess you’ve been out of the loop for quite some time now, and I suppose that I could catch you up through pen and paper, yet I feel like there is no need for such. It has been a long time since I’ve seen you. By now, the quest has been long since completed, and there have been many a monuments erected in your name, honouring your sacrifice in the name of the kingdom. Though I feel they do not do you enough justice.

I could continue to ramble on and on, but I’d like to set out before I grow too weak to walk. My hand is already growing too tired to write much longer.

There is no denying it, my time is soon.

We will meet soon, Il Mio Amore.

(And I’d like to think our story has a happy ending, don’t you? A lone figure muses as they wait, watching the life leave the eyes of a forlorn figure at the base of a sakura tree. Waiting to greet the figure they’ve seen persevere through so much without them by their side. So much bleak sadness after a world of colour. A smile etches upon their lips as the gate slowly opens, revealing a much more youthful person than the forlorn figure against the trunk of a sakura tree, yet it most certainly seems to be the same person.

Eyes meet, and a happy ending shows itself at last.)

[talishs]

Vignette

The Hilius Docks hung above the clouds, the silky silver overhangs shadowing over the ship as we slowed to a stop before the Illigmus Gates. There seemed to be a new gate guard on duty this time, but at the first glance she took at the flag and hydra head, the gates swung open without a sound.

For the third ever time, Cynalir looked as beautiful as it could get, the summer solstice in full swing. Fairy lights decorated the floating islands that stood proud as we sailed by. Waterfalls sprayed a fine mist into the air and hills looked off in the distance over one of the Yymatre Lakes as the festivities reached full force. Cheers echoed our arrival as we cruised along, as if one of the floats that breezed through the air.

They still didn’t know, we had to shatter their hopes at some point.

6″x8″ pan & oil pastels on canvas board

ref photo from pixabay

[talishs]

Vignette

The clouds swarmed around us as little droplets of solidified clouds dripped down from the mast pole, covering the deck in a thin coating of water, making it immensely hard to get from one side of the ship to the other. Making our way directly through the Nyram Cloud System, we were once again met with the breathtaking sight of the Hilius Docks.

The air was as rich as I remember it being the first time we ever came here, the time our adventure first started. Though thinking of you now..

I still need to break the news to the people who became family in such a long, yet short time.

Oil & pan pastel painting

6″x9″

[talishs]

Day 26- Garden

6"x8" pan & oil pastels on linen cardstock

Ref picture used by Karsten Madsen on Pixabay.

Vignette

You had long since been dreaming of the day we would be bound by those perfect rings of vow, wedded in the family gardens your namesake owned. Flecks of rosey hues would adorn the emerald green leaves, their colours in full show as if they too, were congratulating us. We hadn’t gotten too far ahead in the plans before that fateful day, and I wish I could have shown you the ring in my pocket sooner, before it was too late at all. 

[talishs]

Vignette

Frost covered trees adorned the land below, the white tides of snow rolling across the ground like the ocean waves. The powdered snow glistened in the afternoon sun, the placated winds happily blowing against the sails of the ship as we glided along. The scent of homemade remedies for some of the latest sicknesses aboard the ship wafted through the air. I allow the wind to tussle my hair as it saw fit, the action reminding me somewhat of when you would thread your fingers through my hair, your calloused hands lightly brushing against my scalp as I leaned into your touch. I find my thoughts wandering lately, mostly to you, sometimes to your untimely demise, and sometimes, I just don’t think at all. Perhaps it’s better if I just don’t think in the end. 

Pan pastels on a small 5"x6" wood panel

[talishs]

I’d like to commend myself for just a bit, something you’d be proud of. I’ve been able to keep that little cactus of yours alive. The fuzzy top still looks as adorable as when you grew it, and it’s starting to bloom those pretty shades of pink. The hobby you started had become an icon for us, and your plants have started to overrun the ship just a bit. Some of the herbs you’ve grown have come quite in handy when someone’s gotten idiotic enough to get hurt, but no ones quite yet found the cure for the poisonous creatures that took your life. Though I do suppose we’re growing closer to the answer with each new days passing, it’s safe to say the breakthrough is years away. 

Pan & oil pastels 6"x7.25" (Used ref photo from Capri23auto on Pixabay)

[talishs]

The mist rolled across the country hills as we sailed overhead, the mast rising high above the low-resting clouds. The intricately detailed, bronze mountain hydra head glittered at its post at the head of the ship as we cruised along. Despite the chilly winds and thin air, the aura upon the ship was warm and accommodating. 

Drumming a slight rhythm upon the rails of the ship, I allowed my gaze to wander up to the design of the sails that you so proudly presented to me that one day many years ago. It had been that day our adventure truly began, and we picked up friends along the way. Perhaps I reminisce a tad too much, but these peaceful days remind me quite a bit about you. Comforting, warm, lovely to experience, but fleeting, and hiding something a bit more sinister on the horizon. Not to say you had any sinister secrets on your own. No, those were the secrets we had. Not just you or I. 

8.5x5.25" pan & oil pastels

(ref photo used from StockSnap on Pixabay)

[talishs]

Vignette

Bluebells, bluebells, bluebells. Such a funny word when you look at it long enough. They aren’t always blue, they can be purple, pink, white.. when did we define things by colour anyway? Like the violet? Are violets not violets unless they’re violet? Are roses not roses unless they’re a rose colour? What is a rose colour? Is it a colour found on a rose? That can’t be right..

These were the questions we would ponder over for days on end, over and over and over again. Sometimes, we would differ in our conclusions, other times, it would wind up the same. I thought you may want to know that the rest of the crew has picked up on the habit of pondering the useless questions in life, that can sometimes lead to the answers we never knew we needed.

Painting is 5.5"x8" oil & pan pastels

(used ref photo by Catharina77 on pixabay.)

[talishs]

Day 21-people

5.5x8″ Soft & oil pastel painting

Vignette

Clasping your hand in mine as we overlooked the gentle waters below our feet, watching the sky slowly fade from graceful the azure blue to the magnificent hues of yellow, orange, red and purple. Your thumb rubbed circles against the palm of my hand as you leaned against me, allowing the wind to whisper prophecies of the future in your ear. You had slumped against me as you fell asleep, standing against the sandy shores. It was the next morning you woke when you warned us of the red-run sky and walls painted in blood. It was never very peaceful after that, but that was fine by us. We had grown a bit too bored for our liking. Setting out on the dawn of a new quest, unaware of the death it would bring. But that was fine by us. There were other people to carry out the legacy. We never did expect to be separated so soon, though. 

[talishs]

Day 20-Fields

9x12″ pan & oil pastel painting

(ref photo from pixabay)

Vignette

The ship sailed over fields of green and brown, patches of wheat speckling the ground below as we sailed by. The air was cool and crisp against my face as I leaned over the deck railings, watching as we plowed through the clouds with uncaring. Getting a last glimpse of the scene below, the sight was covered with billowing clouds as we rose above the rolling sea of white puff. This had always been your favourite part of riding the ship whenever you were nothing but a mere passenger, watching the scenery fade from the earth below to the endless expanse of sky. Simply being around you while you enjoyed the wondrous sight was enough to make it one of my favourite parts of riding the ship as well. 

[talishs]

9x12″ pan & oil pastels

(ref photo from pixabay)

Vignette

The setting sun gave the poppies a luminescent glow, the faint scent of petrichor filling my lungs. My eyes drifted to the hazy clouds in the dusk painted sky, watching as they flitted across the eventide scene. The quaint little hill was a relaxing place to be. Tired eyes looked away from the framed picture on the wall of the ship, the signing of your name at the top left corner of the painting signifying the perfectly captured scene belonged to you. I don’t remember off of the top of my head the exact time we had visited the place, but it must have been a good day. You always seemed to paint your emotions into your pictures. 

[talishs]

9x12″ pan & oil pastel painting

(ref pic from pixabay)

Vignette

The trees towered above me like skyscrapers, reaching their branches out towards the sun. The misty haze stretched out it’s nimble grasp to all that lay in wait. The wildlife seemed.. impatient. As of waiting for something important..

I should get back to the ship, we’ve stayed in the same place long enough. It’s time to start moving once more, everyone’s grown restless. We can’t settle for long. Perhaps the anticipation of the forest is for our leave, we never harbour good news anyway. 

[talishs]

Day 17-bird

8.25x5.5″

pan pastels and oil pastels

Vignette

The smoky silhouette of the owl graced the midnight sky, the glow of the moon illuminating silver feathers in azure and cobalt hues. Sometimes, I wonder if you had the chance to return, what would you come back as? Would you be a bird, free and unchained? An ant, Unnoticed and hardworking? You could be plenty of things, you always had the best qualities. Maybe I’m a bit biased, but you never did host room for flaws. Not that you could even dream of being wrong. 

Though I do suppose I’m getting off track, and your best friend encouraged me to write these letters to try and get over the loss, but I just can’t stop thinking of if you’re still watching over me. Even all this time apart, I’m still a wreck without you. Nothing ever seems to change, does it? We’re as free as jailbirds in this never ending cycle of false hope and too high expectation. I wonder if you’ve found the key? Unlocking the cage would be nice for a change. 

[talishs]

Day 16- landscape

7.5"x5.5" pan pastel & oil pastel

(Used ref photo by DreamyArt on Unsplash.)

Vignette

The snow graced the land like an angels blessing, carpeting the ground with a feathery touch. The peaceful silence calmed me as I looked over the frozen lake that was dusted in the early sunset hues. Little icicles clung to outstretched tree branches, distorting the light that brushed against it in a spectacular way. The almost magical glow the view brought settled my restless soul, at least for a while.

You always found winter unbearable, especially on the drafts ship, but you would always agree to sitting out in the snow with a cup of hot cocoa. We always used to share the same red scarf and matching black mittens as we snuggled up against each other in an attempt to stave off the bitter wind that nipped at our skin. The glittering snow always seemed to captivate you, no matter how many times you stated that you hated it. Perhaps I prefer winter, and am a little bit biased, because it was in those summer days you were taken away.

[talishs]

Cigarette smoke curled wispily into the air that tried to lash out at exposed skin, the cold of the night seeping into my bones. Feeling the ground beneath me was slightly reassuring, but I felt exposed without the hospitality of the ship and the crew, no matter how suffocating they could be. Exhaling, the crisp air of the night hit my admittedly chapped lips, allowing the cigarette butt to slip out from between my fingers.

If I try a little bit harder, through the peaceful haze the little stick of cancer brings, I can imagine you seated right beside me, twirling one of your own small sticks of death in your fingers. It’s a bittersweet thought, and I absentmindedly decide to focus on the more sweet side of bittersweet for now. It’s not often I get to do so.

[talishs]

#Pastelovember Day 14, Palm tree - Art challenge for the month of November, I’m doing all paintings in 30 minutes or less.  My daughter is doing a writing challenge creating a vignette to accompany each painting. 6.25x7″ pan pastels Used ref photo by vanni_mc on Pixabay.

Vignette

Dusty shores lined with shells entranced my vision as we took a small break for sailing the skies, patches of grass speckled around where the shore met the land. Palm trees towered over like little giants greeting the waves, the azure sky peeking through their fanning leaves as if humouring them in a small game. Wispy clouds drifted steadily through the air as they morphed and shifted to their own desires whilst the sun held steady in the sky.

In a moment of quiet adjure to my memories, I recall our plans to visit a tropical beach one day in the future that you were never meant to see. I suppose you would have loved to see the view dancing before my eyes, but it doesn’t seem as attractive as the pictures depict it to be. Perhaps the absence of your warming smile made me cold, but it was to be expected. We knew one of us would die before the other, but we never did seem to accept the fact it could happen any time. I guess we were too naïve in the end.

[talishs]

#Pastelovember Day 13, Skyline - Art challenge for the month of November, I’m doing all paintings in 30 minutes or less.  My daughter is doing a writing challenge creating a vignette to accompany each painting. 9x12″ pan pastels Used ref photo by Alex Iby on Unsplash.

Vignette

Waves flitted against the sandy shores whilst the sunset painted itself across the sky in hues of gold and orange. Eyes viewing but never seeing, ears hearing but never listening, fingers touching but never feeling, and thoughts that repeated like a mantra in my head. The woman beside me spoke, but I never remembered what she said, my lips parting to reply, but I never remembered when I started to speak. (Lips that were perhaps a bit chapped from smoking one too many cigarettes when we were younger—). Gazing down to the crystalline waters below that reflected the hues of the dying sun, viewing but never seeing whilst the sharp air hit my lips as I took an intake of breath. (Lips that were perhaps a bit chapped from smoking one too many cigarettes when we were younger—). Running my hand down the railing of the ship, touching but never feeling as I guided myself away from the edge whilst the taste of bitter coffee stained my lips. (Lips that were perhaps a bit chapped from smoking one too many cigarettes when we were younger—).

You never did like it when I acted like this. You saw the beauty, I saw the sense. You saw the life whilst I saw the pence. But our lips were perhaps a bit chapped from smoking too many cigarettes when we were younger, so I suppose we weren’t all that different after all.