SSWM - 1028
What it was for her was something magical. It was something that Mati needed more then anything. She had yet to experience a love deeper then the love she held for creating pieces of art, and her love for colors. There might be a day when she could find something deeper and more connected to her soul then the paints and the pencils that she used, but she had yet to come across it. In her mind it was a never ending love, the one thing that so easily replaced those that left her. In the beginning it was a curiosity, and now as she was tall in stature and mature in nature Mati found it an addiction of the sweetest kinds. She needed it; just as the paint brush needed her. With out it she could not become a creator, and with out her it was nothing more then wood and bristles. It was the need that wished to fulfill, as basic and elementary as one might see it. But in her eyes it was a stronger relationship then she had ever held. Her connection with her brother Haven was the only thing that came close to it, but in the end the brush, the paint and the paper had never left her, no matter how valid the reason.
The soft touch of his hand broke her haze, and violet eyes looked to ones that matched. Mati smiled softly, knowing that they needed to continue with their search, and to her delight he began exploring the shades of colors on the shelves. Standing among the hues of red, Mati let him choose the ones he would like and moved a step down the row towards the yellows. If there was a color that she loved more then yellow, Mati had not come across it yet. The opposite of her eye color, the hue of the sun could hold her curiosity for hours as she attempted to capture the very best shade for what ever picture she might be working on. His words made her laugh lightly at the reality of it, “We will this time too.” She teased with a mock stubborn tone in her voice. This time, when they wage the battle all over again, they would be victorious once more. Nature and all things that thrived with in it would be the ones to win over the concrete creations of man. The Dreamer saw it play out in her mind, and hoped that she would be able to play it out with her hand in the same ease.
The woman read the names of the colors on the cans, all of them seemingly unreal. There was no Cadmium yellow, but there was a “Where the Sun shines” and a “Mellow Yellow” right where she thought she would find it. The names were slightly out of the ordinary, apparently the colors that they wished humans to place on their walls were not the same as those found in the art stores that she frequented. “Pale Daffodil” and “Bicycle Yellow” were passed when he questioned her. At first the woman didn’t know how to answer him, she felt like she had always been painting, in one form or another. After a moment of thought, Mati answered. “Ever since I could shift,” she turned to him then, and tried to think of how long it had been. It felt like a lifetime, but it had only been “since spring.” Now that she thought about it, the summer and fall had indeed been filled with days and night, hours and hours, of painting and drawing, but it wasn’t the years and years it felt like.
He asked of her teacher, and Mati thought of his fondly. The time she had spent with him had been short, but the elements he had instilled in her were a permanent mark in her mind. He had spoken with an accent, worn a hat and scarf. His white hued face looked to her like any teacher would to their pupil, with hope and aspiration. “His name was Honoré.” Mati explained as she fumbled over the French accented name. As always Mati spoke of him fondly. “He was of Phoenix Valley. I met him right when I began to use paints rather then just pencils.” The woman pause as she thought back on that moment he had found her with the paint tube in her mouth desperately trying to get it open. “He taught me how to hold the brush, and mix colors. He knew so much, and painted bird houses.” She spoke with a smile. All the things that he had spoken about where basic, but that was exactly what she had needed then, the simple things. “I don’t think he thought himself a artist, but he was. He knew so much.” The earthen toned woman watched the male, “I haven’t been able to find him, since then.” It was a tragedy in the artist’s life. “I’ve read a lot on different types of painting, and sort of taught myself different things.” She explained, watching the male with a can of paint in her hands. It was “Citrus Splash” and she thought it would be perfect, for his fruity nature.
“Do you have anything that is just...” Mati trailed off trying to think of the right words that would capture what painting was for her. “it. Your thing and something that makes you feel like you have actually done something right?” at times she was frustrated with painting, and she couldn’t always make it work for her. But it never left, no matter how hard she pushed it away and no matter how much she hated it for not working with her. It would always there, even if she couldn’t feel it, and the inspiration filtered back into her heart and travel up to her mind. Unlike her mother, unlike the brothers that she loved and unlike those that she had hoped to someday love. It was not someone, and still Mati cared for it. Loved it like it would truly love her back. It was the one thing she was never without.
By Erin<33