the silence of despair. ONE PIECE

6. cursed painter where is your madness?

Note: hey! sorry late update ( uni is so tiring ), so there is a new chapter! and I have found the perfect face claim for umekui it's !!!! My pretty perfect husband's biggest green flag sanji is finally there !! good reading :)!

" Loneliness, like fever, thrives on night.

Madness, like fever, thrives on art. "

Pain flows through paint.

Painting is an expression of one's feelings.

To paint is to scream.

Whenever Umekui touched a brush and posed in front of an empty canvas, her blood flowed and scorched (not in the manner that makes her curl in a ball and scream and beg the anguish to stop).

Her means of painting hue on a blank canvas is like crafting a soul entirely by herself. She remembers how, the first time she touched a brush and painted something, her smile was wide and broken (perhaps because it showed her that she wasn't wholeheartedly lonely in her madness).

She realized she held something that even the gods didn't have. (From their almighty throne and subject at their feet, they had everything in this world). But when the gods surrendered into insanity. Their souls consumed it and ascended the darkest recesses of hell. They scorched their bodies from the fire that engulfed them from within, condemning themselves to a life of loneliness.

Umekui is well aware that she was lured to all the wrong things: drugs, alcohol, sex, crimes blood and fire, views and ideals, and ultimately descended into nothingness. But will you blame her when the first thing she knew when she stepped on this earth was emptiness? Emptiness is all, it raised her as she is and rendered her to the monstrous being she is now.

The first time, he handed her a brush and a blank canvas and urged her to paint her emotions (she looked at him as if he was the most demented man in the world, and she wanted to cry to him about how she had no feelings because she was an empty vessel that only hold a monstrous being inside her), yet he simply smiled (a warm and charming smile that could put her to sleep for an eternity in his arms) and encouraged her to grasp the brush in her fingers. So she painted, using all the somber colors she could muster on the inside,e and blemished her white canvas with something she couldn't have.

He gently said to her, "It will be your new body. Every time you want to cut or harm yourself, take a brush and paint your empty canvas with the agony that you feel."

She couldn't understand why he devoted all of his warmth and gentleness to someone like her. (She tried to ignore the voices screaming at her that she would only be his damnation because everything with her ended in blood and fire. If there was one thing the gods adored, it was tragedy. with humans that fall and wings that burn).

And yet, here she is, facing her new art room's painted blank ceiling. White, blue, and yellow colors flooded her hands and face, yet the starry night she painted filled her with trepidation. The sky occupies the majority of the painting and is composed of volutes and swirls reminiscent of nebulae. The stars and the moon are surrounded by touches of paint, creating a halo.

She extinguished the breath she had been holding throughout the creation.

Catharsis, the release of emotions, descended upon her by her fallen angel and conveyed to her in the shape of her art; it turned out to be the sole possession that the gods didn't steal from her.