Artistic Inspiration [Afternoon :: Takeru Kagemaru]

With a weak scream and a jolt, Nebula awoke drenched in cold sweat, courtesy of both her uncomfortable, scratchy mattress and her chronic nightmares. She remained seated in her bed, breathing fast and heavy for a few moments before realizing what had actually happened, at which point her breathing slowly decelerated and she threw her head back into her pillow. Even if she knew every night that what awaited her were nightmares, there was nothing she could do that would prepare her for them.

Sliding the back of her hand across her face to wipe away the sweat and her tears, Nebula remained a few more minutes in her bed before gathering what little will she had and getting off her bed. She took off the tank top and cotton shorts she used to sleep and stepped in the shower, where she stayed for more than a few minutes. After stepping out and drying herself off, she put on her usual outfit, which was currently looking a little more worn than usual as a result of her forgetting to clean it last night. She grabbed her sketchbook and pencil, and stepped out of her shoddy apartment, feeling that she did not need to eat breakfast.

It had been three full months since Nebula had been released on parole, yet the reality that she was faced with had made her wish that she'd stayed in prison and never have had to come face to face with the grim reality that awaited her on the outside. All her peers had abandoned her, nobody would hire her, and so the only thing left for her to do was survive, which she did by drawing artistic commission online for money under the pseudonym of IronGrip. She figured nobody would buy any art from her if they knew who she was.

Despite drawing for a living, however, Nebula found that drawing did wonders for her self-esteem (Though in the grand scheme of things, her depression remained unchanged). Thusly, Nebula decided to head to the Sunlake Palms garden path, hoping to see something that would give her inspiration for a new drawing.

The first thing Nebula noticed upon going outside was that it wasn't as early as she thought. Apparently she had overslept, and it was now the afternoon. Regardless, Nebula proceeded, and upon reaching the garden she found a set of red, blue and yellow flowers growing together. Having found her inspiration, Nebula sat down on the bench in front of them, and began to draw away at her sketchbook.

Today, I woke up with heartache again. That feeling of painful emptiness, the despair resulting making me feel like crying. The exact word to describe it is Aubade, a french termine used to describe the pain of parting.
In other words, I must have been having a very good dream if it hurts that much when it's gone.
I take a few moments to compose myself, an easy task considering how my heart desires comfort right now.
Once that's done, I take a look at my list of tasks and sigh as I notice the one thing that's on there:
My novel.
The whole reason why I started Frostice League was.to raise the funds to publish that as well.
Frankly, it'd work better as a graphic novel series, except...
The current art style of Frostice League just doesn't fit the tone of the novel.
Sighing again, I walk out of the house to the concert hall, passing through the park as I do so.
That's when something catches my eye:
A young woman sitting on a bench drawing something.
Huh.
Wonder if fate is being nice to me after all today?
I walk over to her, and wait until she's done drawing before I start speaking.
"Excuse me, Ms, but what were you drawing just now? " I ask her, curious as to what she was drawing.
Hopefully this goes well...
Last thing I need is one more person angry at me.

Nebula would silently continue scratching away at the page with her pencil, being careful to smooth out the lines and not let the side of her hand touch the paper, lest she risk smudging the drawing. From time to time she would glance in front of her to refresh the mental image she kept of the flowers. Eventually, after a few minutes, she had a rough draft of what she was going for.


As she often did with her drawings, she would have to redraw the whole thing over and over until she made a version of the drawing that satisfied her aesthetic needs. When she drew commissions, she would draw until the drawing best fit the commission description, and sell the rough drafts off for a lesser price. This gave her more time to keep her mind off of her problems, and slightly more money to keep herself alive.

Before she could get to work on the second draft, however, a voice interrupted her musings. Startled, she pressed her skechbook against her chest, folding both arms over it. She turned to look at the new face that had inquired about her drawing. "I-It's... private. I don't really feel c-comfortable showing it to other people." Her grip on the skechbook grew slightly loose. "I-I'm sorry..." she finished with a meek voice and a guilty look.

I should have expected as much. I often give the same response to people that had asked to see my writings. She looked scared, so I smiled knowingly and sat down next to her.
"It's okay. I understand. I'm a writer, the artistic sort as well. I understand how it feels. You don't show anyone usually because you're afraid they might mock you for it, right? I know how that feels." I asked her, a knowing look crossing my eyes as I remembered how people didn't always like my talent...
"My name's Takeru. What's yours?" I ask her. Through out all of this, I keep my tone as gentle and kind as possible so that I don't come off as hyperactive. That will scare her, if her situation is similar to mine.
We may use different tools and means to create our craft, but we are still both artists, in a sense.

Nebula would remain silent and force herself to keep eye contact, as doing otherwise would be impolite, as the stranger took a seat beside her. She wasn't used to being around people so chatty, and she frankly had always preferred the company of people that were more frugal with their words, but she was so lonely that she would never object if somebody wanted to talk to her. "I-It's... not embarassssing. I'm proud of my work, b-but... it's scary, letting people knnow what goes th-through my head." That, and she wanted to keep her identity a secet, and if this man saw her drawing it wouldn't be safe to publish it anymore.

"...N-Nebula." She would dryly reply. She would always only give her first name until her last name was directly asked for. She feared people might have heard her name before, and might run away from her if they knew just who she was and what she'd done. She would muster up courage and extend her hand towards Takeru for a handshake. Drawing was always nice, but having somebody to talk to was by far the best thing Nebula could have going for her.

In nervousness, Nebula would rub her left shoulder and occasionally glance back at the flowers. Takeru was the first person to approach her out of their own volition since she'd been released, and frankly, socializing once more... was terrifying.

"Huh? Oh, I get what you mean. We all have things we want to keep private. I can understand that." I said.
When she told me her name, Nebula, and held out her hand for me to shake, I did so.
"Nice to meet you, Nebula. That's a nice name." I say as I shake her hand. It Sounds familliar too, But I'm Going To Attribute that to me knowing the stellar term of the same name.
She was rubbing her left shoulder in a somewhat nervous manner as well and glancing back and forth at the flowers as well.
"Um... are you okay? You keep looking at those flowers with this nervous look in your eyes. Is something wrong with the flowers?" I asked her, drawing that conclusion from how she was acting. I may not be able to read the atmosphere of a room, but I can read one person at a fairy okay.

"Thank you, but... it's n-not all that special." Nebula was grateful to Takeru that he didn't try to pry into the matter, but she was also very slightly surprised that he noticed her nervous tics so easily. Most people were aware of them, but failed to recognize them as such. "N-no, I'm fine and so are the flowers. I'm just... a bit anxious... a-about my ddrawing. Th-that's all." Not entirely a lie, but a lie nonetheless; yet thankfully for her, a lie told by someone who had developed an amazing skill to hide her true feelings and thoughts. Very few people could look behind the curtain of emotional debris dropped by someone whose psyche was practically shattered.

Nebula would reposition her sketcbook from her chest to her lap (Drawing facing down, of course.) and remain silent, unsure of what to say or do. Not wanting to lose face, she asked the first thing that came to her mind. "...You said you're an artist, right? ...Any works of yours I might recognize?" She hadn't really yet met anyone that was as interested in artistry as she was, so this was brand new territory for Nebula.

I nod at her words. I can believer her being nervous about it. I probably get a similar feeling when I turn an essay for class.
I have to admit, the bit on artist slightly throws me for a hit as I have to carefully consider my words from here.
"Well... my definiton of 'art' is created with words, cause I'm a writer, you see. As for works that you might recognize..." I begin to say before making sure nobody else was watching us or within listening distance before lowering my voice a notch.
"I write Frostice League under a pseudonym. I have proof, even, if you don't believe me." I say in a low voice.

There were many things that could startle Nebula. In fact, you would be hard-pressed to find something that wouldn't startle her if used in the correct manner; but the scariest thing she could ever imagine was being thought ill off by somebody who she had just befriended, and the fact that Takeru was the first ever person to not be absolutely disgusted by her in years... did not alleviate matters, to say the least.

At the speed of light, Nebula swept away her bangs and looked Takeru in the eyes. "O-of c-c-c-ourse I b-b-bel-lieve you! Why w-w-wouldn't I b-believe you?" She blurted out in a clearly panicked tone. It was only after she'd spoken that she realized how visible her exasperation had become, and that she'd practically shouted at Takeru. Immediately regretting it, she folded both her legs into her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I-i'm sorry! P-p-please... don't-t-t hate m-me..."

Wow. Even when I'm badly depressed, I don't hit this level that easily. Holy crap, her emotional state is like a bunch of glass shards.... or at least, her self-esteem is. I mean, she just curled up into a ball for chrissake because I offered to show her proof of something! Geez... now I really feel bad... oh... this ain't good... I need to calm down before I answer, otherwise, I'm going to startle her even more.
"Calm down. Take a Deep breath, okay? I'm not mad at you in any way. I promise, I'm not going to do anything to hurt you, okay? As a matter of fact, I should be the one apologzing..." I tell her after a taking a couple of deep breaths myself to get myself a bit more calm.

After roughly a whole minute of deep breathing, Nebula regained her composure (or what was left of it, anyway) and slowly return to her normal self, lowering her legs and holding her own arms. Now she didn't feel hated or sad or nervous... all she felt was embarassment at her little outburst. "I... I'm sorry. You shouldn't've s-seen that." She put her hands on her face to try to hide the fairly visible embarassment before grabbing her sketchbook and standing up and looking to Takeru once more. "I-I... I don't think I feel so well. I'm going to go now, b-but please don't think it's because of you! I j-just... need to go somewhere else." She gave Takeru a polite bow. "Thank you for at least t-trying to talk to me. Good bye." She swiped away the bangs from her eyes once more before walking off towards a direction, any direction worked. She only hoped Takeru understood that it truly had nothing to do with him. She just... needed to go somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere at all.

Good. It seemed to work. That was what he was trying to accomplish.
He also understood her words. He would want to find some place to hide after a outburst like that in public.
He had done so before...
"Alright. Goodbye." Takeru said, nodding.
She seemed so afraid though... and he couldn't help but wonder why.
At that point, he himself had decided to go home and ponder it.
Exit. Sanity Levels: 85%. Almost normal. Almost.
Soundtrack:
Nebula's Theme: Second Chances