Knight Wolf stood in stunned silence. Sitting before him was a portrait of a wolfish figure. Their eyes were as black as ink with a small green dot in their center. A cream-colored snout looked to be segmented, as if a piece of wood had been glued to the workings of a face.... The wolf looked like a puppet.

Gulping, Knight Wolf placed a hand onto his neck. He was hoping that painting was an exaggeration... but he knew it wasn't. He could feel the gap in his neck where his larynx was supposed to be. Pushing a hand deeper into his neck, he finally hit the back. It was hard to the touch.

This wasn't what Knight Wolf had hoped he'd be drawn as, but the artist stated they drew what they saw, and they saw a puppet... a creature that was cursed by many until their very life was nothing more than a plethora of curses. Knight Wolf was beginning to lose count of all the curses that were placed on his very existence -- he was a man who was cursed by all.

Knight Wolf's ears flicked backward as he heard quiet footsteps come toward him.

"Are you satisfied with your picture, Knight Wolf?" It was the artist.

"It's a beautiful painting." Knight Wolf choked out, realizing he still had his hand stuck at the back of his throat. He pulled his hand out and looked down from the painting.

"Is something the matter?" The artist asked. Knight Wolf could hear their tone of voice. The artist already knew something was wrong.

"No... that painting is exactly who I am...." Knight Wolf's posture lowered. He was trying to hold back his own tears.

There was a silence. The artist's breathing was a bit hastened, confused... trying to think of something to say. "Do you... like the epithet I put on the plaque?"

"Is it 'the cursed'?" Knight Wolf asked.

"Why would you think that?" The artist placed a hand on Knight Wolf's shoulder.

Knight Wolf lifted his head up and opened his mouth. He pressed a hand down on his tongue. The strength it had to act like a normal mouth vanished as his jaw gave way to the pressure created by his finger. He could no longer control the movement of his jaw and was helpless as it bounced up and down on the hinge he felt at the back of his throat. Once he took his hand away from his mouth, the ability to move his jaw returned. Knight Wolf looked at the artist, frowning. "It's just a hunch."

"Cursed though you may be, Knight Wolf, I did not draw a creature that was cursed." The artist lifted a hand toward the painting and he pressed the other hand against Knight Wolf's cheek as a guide on where to look. "I drew the portrait of a man who's gone through so much to protect everyone. Someone who has dealt with curses and trials that would drive most to insanity... that HAS driven them to insanity."

The artist gently pushed Knight Wolf's head to look at a painting beside his own. It was the picture of a brown minotaur wearing blue armor. "Tudor," Knight Wolf whispered.

"Yet somehow, for the millennia that legend has been alive, only now has his insanity diminished." The artist smiled as he looked Knight Wolf in the eye. "Why do you suppose that is?"

"Because of... me?" Knight Wolf tilted his head to the side. "Anyone could have done it."

"Maybe." The artist shrugged. "But I feel the answer to that question is within the epithet I put under your painting." The artist gestured back to Knight Wolf's painting.

Gulping again, Knight Wolf leaned in close to read the gold-colored plaque:

Knight Wolf
The Kindhearted

Knight Wolf smiled.

~~~~~

This was a stress relief piece. With a lot going on in my life, it becomes so easy to get overwhelmed by everything going on in my life... but having hours to dedicate to a painting is very helpful. I don't have to think about anything around me -- just the shading and strokes of a painting. Was this a vent piece? Nah. Was it a stress relief piece? Yes. I also got to practice a lot of things with it, including a different style of brush!

~~~~~

Knight Wolf/Art/Story ©  pikminpedia Me