L《Living. Loving. Leaving.》
Set after the fall of Wall Maria, before the battle in Trost. You lived within the premises of the giant trees, and you didn't know a thing about your identity. All you knew was the pain you felt was like dying all over b...
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This blank, white canvas reflected on his equally blank, steely gaze, was something he grew used to visit for more than he expected. The easel embracing it into place was worn, adorned with both scratches and smudges of paint, but not a layer of dust is visible even on his meticulous eyes. The smell of roses wafted the air, cluttering his memories and the moments he spent with her in this room. These details appealed to him greatly, so he let his eyes close for a little while longer.
"Mattabara, ka..." (Roses again, huh...) he mutters, still half asleep. He found himself curled up against the wooden slats of the flooring, realizing that he fell into slumber in this place once more.
His eyes lingered around the room full of colors and pieces of her soul. The corners of his lips turned into a faintest of smiles, ever so slightly having a hint of longing that disappeared as soon as it happened. He made careful steps through the corridor that had an array of paintings on each side, something he did so often that he lost count. All of them were part of his memories, and most of them held blissful moments.
His delicate fingers gently slid across a portrait almost too carefully, as if he feared the slightest touch would deter a year of its shelf life that he persevered to preserve. Intricately drawn with passionate emotion and colors, the picture exuded emotion and nostalgia, given the people inside the painting. Though all didn't smile as brightly, all smiled genuinely. Well, except for one whose face scowls indifferently. He squinted his eyes the other way and sighed.
Before all of these other paintings, everyday, he would glance at the calligraphic art written on a pure white canvas that was the only object that hung on the wall on the far end.
It said:
"One day, mankind received a grim reminder. They lived in...of the..."
The blank, white canvas, like his bland, steel gray eyes, was something that will be filled with color no more.
