Work Text:
Drip...
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Drip
Red. There was not enough red. Why wasn’t there enough red?!
You covered the entire canvas in red. You spilled the paint, you splashed the whole bucket on the damn thing. Even you were covered, in your entirety, in red: your hands, your clothes, your hair, your face, your room. Everything was red. That bright red you see on the surface of the Sun when it flares up, throwing out molten remnants of itself at everything that surrounds it. That rich red you see, flowing within your vein, only to be witnessed when you are gutted, sprawled on the altar of your humanity as a show of devotion for the giving light. That shining red you see when you run your fingers through the soft locks of your lover’s hair as he smiles up at you from your lap and you smile back. That soothing red you feel placing gentle kisses on your cheeks when you are within his warm embrace.
You drag your hand across the still-wet paint, leaving your palm print on the canvas. To create the perfect depiction of the Sun himself, you must put everything you have into the image. You have been working at it for DAYS, erasing your progress every time. Tossing the imperfect piece away. It was not PERFECT. NEVER perfect. No matter what you did, you couldn’t get the colors right. The red was wrong! Everything was wrong!
You tossed the canvas to the side, knocking the easel down to the floor, screaming out; only for your screams to fall on deaf ears of the empty room you were in. You scowl and stomp, angry, and frustrated at your lack of talent. Why couldn’t you put your vision down on the white canvas? It was to be displayed on the walls of His temple by all other artwork, yet you couldn’t compose yourself enough to conjure something worth catching His gaze every day. Something beautiful enough for patrons and worshippers to sigh in awe as they gazed up at His likeness. A centerpiece that would convey truthfully how you see the Sun from the depth of your position. It was meant as a show of adoration, and worship. You were lucky enough to be like a priest who worshiped Unum at the sanctuary of his domain. You were lucky enough to be the one with whom he had sired a child, be it through unity of souls, rather than body. That isn’t to say that your bodies didn’t join together, too…
Alas, you couldn’t dwell on it for long. You had Unum’s divine essence to capture with your flawed human hands.
You picked up the canvas that you so carelessly tossed to the side, staring at the lines you had already put down and the red paint that was of the not-quite-right color. Your gaze focused on the smudged paint that your hand left behind after you dragged it across the piece. You look at the canvas. Then you look at your hand, covered in red. At the canvas, then at the hand. Canvas, hand. Canvas. Hand.
Of course. That’s what’s missing.
Toiling over your magnum opus once again, you smile, realizing at last what you must do to satisfy your desire to portray the Sun in his holy absoluteness. You use your palette knife to add the volume of oil paint to the piece. You slash wound-like gashes into it, carving His likeness out as if you were some sort of crazed sculptor, gushing over their muse. You were no sculptor. You weren’t sure about the crazed part; however, as you found your inspiration to create from the Symbol you inadvertently joined in reverence, you understood that you could do anything if it meant you got to correctly depict your Desired . You used your hands, shaping the paints with your fingers, and molding shapes in the blankness the color red possessed after staring at it for so long.
You stepped away after who knows how long to take a look at your work, a wide smile plastered on your face. You were finally happy with what you had put down… Or so you thought. It was off. Drip. It was off again.
Wrong. What was wrong?
The color. Drip.
Yes. The color was wrong. That red wasn’t the correct red! Drip. The red wasn’t as vibrant as it should be.
This wasn’t Unum! This wasn’t his essence. Drip. You didn’t capture it right! Drip. It was wrong! Drip. All wrong! Drip. How could you fix it?! You were already taking too long!
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Drip.
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Drip.
Of course.
… Drip.
You look at your hands.
Drip…
You have the perfect color right there at your fingertips. Of course! Not only was it vibrant like His perfect hair… You were human, too. The one thing not a single being within the Garden can resist.
You pick up the dull palette knife.
If you were to add an appetizer to your painting. Surely. SURELY. No one would be able to take their gaze off of it. As your beloved Symbol deserved. And not only that…
Everyone would know that his image was painted with your love. A statement of your belonging. The one true human within the garden of husks. Belonging to the Sun himself. The mere thought of that made you giddy.
You grasped the knife in your hand and wound it back. It may be dull, but you would do anything to give justice to your beloved’s portrait.
Anything.
You plunged the knife into your hand. You needed that color immediately. There was no hesitation. You either did it that very instance or you forever hold your peace as the mere paint dries up under the rays of the Sun. You did what had to be done to depict Him the way you see him. With the immeasurable reverence you gave him. You would put all your love into it. You would put your ALL into it. Just to attempt to convey even a fraction of what you had felt towards Him to all who revere him in a way that was beyond even the highest priests of His temple.
They would finally grasp what it meant to worship.