black and blues

[Sebastian Ryder]

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There was only one thing Sebastian Ryder was confident he knew for sure: his name. No, that wasn't entirely true. The feeling of guilt was so prominently flowing through his skeletal veins it would have been blasphemy to ignore its existence. Shamed of losing her, disgraced for abandoning his family, and shunned by his emotions; there were so many components he couldn't fully piece them together. Traveling with that troupe any longer would have been synonymous to performing a slow and painful suicide - he just couldn't let the agony overwhelm. So he'd disbanded and journeyed by himself for several months, the only supplies in his small knapsack being a couple paintbrushes, canvas paper, and an empty palette. It was all he'd ever needed.

Esper Hollow was unfamiliar and this was why he instantly fell in love with it. The contours of the rolling hills, the robin blue sky; he could already feel his fingertips clinching with the need to hold a brush to paper. There was simply nothing like the art of painting. Photographs captured moments, but only in the essence of carbon copies. Paintings were so much more: they encompassed emotions, opinions, and desires. Sebastian lived for his artwork, it was as simple as that. In wereform he approached the pack's borders, tawny chest gently rising with each passing breath. His golden eyes narrowed as he inspected the territory like only an artist would. Perfect.

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