Stripe (Storyteller)

2 weeks ago

@extinctTales[ET]

This is the story of an art piece. They were many things before that, of course. We're never just one thing, are we, dear reader? They began as a painter- quiet, observant and blending into the background for their art. It was easy to fade for them, the painter able to sit in the corner of a room and blend in with the furniture as they worked. And they painted wonderfully! Stunning abstractions, based on the clear fractals they found. But their best work came from their dreams. Because, you see, their dreams were visions of the future. The fates of them and their loved ones, day after day. Oh, how it nearly ruined them! (how sad!) Our poor painter wished to fix things, to change those prophetic dreams and grant themselves a better outcome. Perhaps if they'd been stronger, they could have. (a shame!) But fate did not wish to budge. If they were lucky, nothing would change. If they weren't... well, fate had to balance the scales in some way, no? Bad luck for good, an eye for an eye... a life for a life(oh no!). They tried so hard, only for it to end in carnage. Poor thing. That's when they met him, dear reader. The artist. The one who picked them up from the wreckage. Who tried oh so hard to save them, and their friend. He made them beautiful. Replacement parts for their body, lace and filigree to cover the rot. The rage of their purple dulled to melancholy, but did it matter? He was so passionate, they couldn't help but be transfixed. But oh, poor thing, they were doomed to be ephemeral. The patchwork body he made them couldn't keep up. The rot spread, despite what he hid it with, and the art piece was lost. ....It's a shame. They could have guided so many. This story comes with two messages: @nebulousIlluminator "Don't retread old ground. The future is kinder." @edensBane "The teller can replace what you've lost." ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏ 𓆩Memory recorded𓆪