story_deepcl_1_1

I'm sorry, we're not open yet. Please come back in the afternoon.

Sorry about the timing. I'm not here to buy art; I just have some questions.

For your trouble.

(Slips a gold coin through the crack in the door)

This is...

Consider it a token of appreciation. And there's more where that came from, if you've got the information I need.

A pleasure to meet you in the flesh, sir.

Er, ahem... what can I help you with?

Last month, a painting that is very dear to me suffered moisture damage thanks to improper storage.

I've heard that a very skilled restoration painter lives here, so I thought I would try my luck.

Oh... that could be tricky. She's not easy to find.

Does she live outside town? I've got more gold coins.

(Takes out a gold coins from his sleeves)

No, she's in town, but she's a little eccentric. We keep our distance from her, when we can help it.

She's got a temper? Violent type? Or more of an arrogant artist?

Well... you might say she's got a sunny disposition.

Oh?

It's not so bad when she's at home painting, other than the strange noises, from time to time. When she's sketching outside, though... everyone stays as far away as they can. Don't want to get press ganged into modeling for her.

There's no getting away once she sets her eyes on you. You have to sit there and wait for her to finish, no matter what else you might have to do.

And, as you know, paintings aren't the quickest thing to get done... poof, there goes your whole day.

Why don't you just say no?

No...?

Yeah... why not just turn her down? Seems easy enough.

(Mutters to himself with a blank expression)

Sir? Are you okay?

I-I'm fine. I'm trying to think back to what she said to me, but I just can't remember a thing.

That's a little weird... heh.

Anyway, it doesn't matter. She's a little loopy, you know. Says lots of weird things.

Don't let the things she says get to you. I'm sure she doesn't mean any harm by them.

Heh... didn't think you'd turn around and start defending her.

She's a little off-kilter, sure, but she's never hurt anybody. Plus...

Half of what I sell here is her work. Her stuff is popular.

A hardworking painter! Now I'm even more curious.

Well, sir, if you insist, I can take you to her.

This is where she lives. I'll be on my way now.

You're not coming in with me?

Er... well, I have a thing.

Okay, then. Thanks.

(Takes out a few gold coins from his sleeves)

For your trouble.

Oh, thank you so much! That's kind of you. Please feel free to come by my shop if there's anything else I can help with.

Goodbye now.

Huh? Oh, alright, goodbye.

What a nice little hideout.

It is almost noon, and the sun shines brightly outside.

Inside, however, all the doors and windows are tightly shut, with only a few rays of sunlight leaking through the cracks between the boards that have been nailed to the windows, preventing the room from being entirely engulfed in darkness.

The visitor hears the faint sound of scratching coming from the darkest corner.

He straightens his robe and approaches a massive canvas standing upright. A woman is using her brush to fill it with color.

Should the brush be drier? But then the brush marks would be too distinct...

No, that's not the color that I wanted.

How's that? Does that look better?

The colors could run further down the canvas. I have to do it with a single stroke. No interruptions now... none whatsoever.

It's been a while...

Hm...?

Oh, it's you. Have a seat.

When was the last time you cleaned? You can't see anything in that mirror anymore.

Hah, are you belittling my humble abode, Father? You can't imagine the inspiration I find here.

You haven't changed a bit. You don't care about anything but your art.

You've changed a lot. Your brow didn't furrow like that.

Really...?

Something on your mind?

Well, if you don't want to talk about it, I won't pry.

The first time I saw you, you were absorbed in your painting, just like this.

The first time you saw me? When was that? It's been so long, I can't remember.

I was hiding behind that boulder, that day you met the Herald for the first time.

So you were by the water... all I remember is the beauty the Herald showed me. I've never seen a creature so beautiful.

The Herald must have felt your admiration, guiding you into we many after just one contact.

I've always been grateful.

But you turned around, one step from the ocean.

I'm not making excuses.

Did you abandon the many and turn against your kin just to finish this painting?

(Touches the canvas with a finger)

So beautiful, but burdened by so much sin.

I'm sorry.

But your regret hasn't stopped your brush.

You were too stubborn, too short-sighted. You trapped yourself in the canvas and failed to see the distant future.

You didn't understand the many. You couldn't fit in with the many. You should have nourished the many if you could not be assimilated.

That should have been your end. I am regretful, but joyful. We will become one, sister.

(Sleeves quiver)

Would you put that away for now? I want to finish this before it's all over.

(Straightens sleeves)

It took me a long time to get here. I can wait a little longer.

Good.

And there's something I wanted to ask you before I end your life.

Go on. My brush won't stop, though.

Why did you choose to leave us?

Life is eternal in we many. We are inextricably linked, sharing our joy, anger, sorrow, happiness.

That 'sharing' you're talking about is just about robbing me of all emotion, transforming me into a mouth for the will of the many.

Your outbursts are meaningless. It will not soothe your anger, nor abate your sorrow. It will only make you wallow in boundless misery as you step ever closer to destruction.

We many have sealed away excess emotion. A constant state of heightened alertness is not conductive to the many's continued survival.

You should cast it away and embrace peace and tranquility with us, free from the trappings of your own emotion.

My cries of sorrow, anger and angst are the fertile soil of my art.

I never joined you to get peace or tranquility.

Then what did you want from us?

That's never changed, whether I chose to join or leave.

I want beauty, eternal beauty, dwelling in all life.

Didn't you find it?

A glimpse of the Herald's beauty was enough to change your life forever. Was that not enough?

The Herald left his seed in you, made you one of us, to partake in our beauty.

Yes, your bodies hold the ultimate beauty, beyond anything else.

But have you ever noticed it, appreciated it?

The choices you make guide you to eternal art, but you can't even be moved by art.

You faced survival and evolution, and your answer was to abandon the concept of beauty.

When I started to assimilate, I became numb. I couldn't create or appreciate.

You don't know how I felt when I realized that my brush was covered in dust... the pain I felt in that moment told me I had to leave the many.

So you could not let go of human desire.

Humanity created art as a form of self-expression. Humanity admires art to seek the ego within.

Humanity is looking into a mirror, as humanity always has.

It's selfish, and pathetic...

(Puts down the brush)

You've finished.

Yes, I have.

Blue. As far as the eye can see. You've seen the depths of the ocean, and you understand that the confines of the canvas are too small for the great waves.

You saw the sea... but what I painted was a puddle.

The destiny of water began in the ocean, and in the ocean it shall end.

That's the destiny of water, not the ocean.

You have put your last stroke on the canvas. It's time to go.

I spent months without sleep in order to finish it. You came at just the right time. Maybe you should take another look, as the first being to lay eyes on it.

To us, it's a piece of cloth with color on it. It has no meaning.

Cloth? No, you're wrong. You used to say that I couldn't see true greatness because I was fixated on the canvas. What about you, then?

What?

Every surface in the room begins to peel away, revealing an eerie hue of blue beneath.

The blue begins to devour other colors around it, as though alive.

It soon takes over the entire house, even the cracks between the planks on the window, blocking out the sun completely.

The room should have turned pitch-black, but instead it is blue as far as the eye can see.

An ominous blue, a sinister blue.

Ah... so this is the big picture. Literally.

I have far underestimated the progress that you've made in the past six months.

Go home, Father. You never saw me. You missed your chance to catch me.

What a shame...

You shouldn't have asked so many questions. Hunting and feeding don't need words.

You shouldn't have come looking for me on your own.

I see...

What is it?

Over the past few years, I have been troubled by my failure to reach the next stage of metamorphosis. I've been trying to find out why.

After thinking on it, I still have a human desire: curiosity. That's why I wasn't able to metamorphose any further.

Looks like you stopped at the same place. A part of the human is always there with you, and you can't put it down, no matter how much you want to.

Ah... what a shame.

Leave, Father. You won't become one of them, just like I couldn't. Run away, like I did.

...No.

*Hiss*—Not giving up?

You won't cut any deeper than a flesh wound.

...Damn.

What did you put on me?

Just a little mark.

You're far too powerful for me to purge on my own, but there will be kin who can. The mark will guide the way for them, and it will continue to beckon as long as you still draw breath.

I gave you a chance, Father.

You chose to run away. You should be prepared to run forever.

I've reached a dead end. There's no way forward for me. I shall remain on the path forever.

My carcass will nourish those who come after me, who will go further.

I respect your choice.

To the visitor's eyes, the blue around him begins to warp, struggling to break free.

Large lumps of slime fall to the ground and wriggle their way towards the visitor, crawling up his robes and leaving behind a wet trail.

They surround him tightly, the slime congealing into threads, then tentacles that bury him.

The last thing he sees as his vision fades away is the pitying gaze of a woman.

You think we're on the same path. But actually, our paths have only momentarily intersected.

You thought I ran away, but actually, I've just reached a crossroads.

The road keeps on going.

Goodbye.

Looks like I can't stay here anymore.

Where could I work undisturbed?

What was that sound?

You heard it too? I came to see what's going on.

Hey, is that a pile of rubble where the painter's house was?

Why would it collapse, all of a sudden?

I didn't see her outside today... she might be buried under all that.

Go get help!

Right.

Painter! Are you down there? Can you hear me?

What's going on? I came as soon as I heard. Why did the house collapse like that?

Where's the painter? And that visitor who wanted his painting restored?

If you've got time to ask questions, you've got time to dig!

I brought help!

Did you see anything?

No. What about you?

(Shake heads in unison)

Nothing, not even a body.

Did they leave?

We went around the town on our way here. No one saw the painter.

Hey, what's this?

A painting?

It's totally unharmed after being buried under rubble for so long?

What's the painting of? I can't tell.

All we can see is a corner, and it's all blue. Is it the sky? Or the...

Shh...

We'll know once we dig it out.

Whoa—!

What is it?

What the heck is this?!

A ball of slime clings to his palm, shimmering under the sun, and leaving sticky threads as he tries to pull his hand free of the canvas.