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More from Rukis
Some days, I am disappointed in myself.
When the fog of the Divine closes around my vision like a cataract, I can, for a moment, pretend I don't see my surroundings as they are. The colors fade together into a foreign tapestry, alive with chance and possibility. Lives I may have lived, friends and lovers I would have been fearless enough to keep close to me. Blissful ignorance of the profoundly bleak patchwork of Shanivaar. I wrap myself in that tapestry, and for those muddled moments in which I know no time or place, I am warm.
This bliss is the greatest gift that was ever forced upon me, regardless of its' ramifications and expense.
But sometimes through the haze, clarity breaks through, pressing its' claws into my mind and jarring me back towards reality, and the guilt that awaits me. Every foray into this imaginary world only worsens the return. And amidst the fog, I see myself as I am. . . or who I once was. The untainted me, the child who still had hope, who hung on to the thought that somewhere he had a mother who would return for him. He looks on me in disbelief and fear, as though he is staring over a cliff face, and death awaits at the bottom.
It mortifies me that he should see me this way, but on some level, I am glad that he yet dwells somewhere within. That I have not lost him entirely. He can still trust. He can still love. He remembers freedom.
And he knows, as I do, that we are not entirely to blame. Right? It's this place. This cold, unyielding steel. The men who took our childhood away. The guilt is not entirely ours. Or that is what I tell him.
Some days, I am disappointed in myself.
Every other day, I am disappointed in the world.
One of the Heretic donators (who has not yet authorized me to make their name public) requested I draw a sketch of Amon, with complete artistic freedom, perhaps exploring an idea I'd never had time to before. I really enjoyed working on this. The writing wasn't planned. . . it just kind of happened.
When the fog of the Divine closes around my vision like a cataract, I can, for a moment, pretend I don't see my surroundings as they are. The colors fade together into a foreign tapestry, alive with chance and possibility. Lives I may have lived, friends and lovers I would have been fearless enough to keep close to me. Blissful ignorance of the profoundly bleak patchwork of Shanivaar. I wrap myself in that tapestry, and for those muddled moments in which I know no time or place, I am warm.
This bliss is the greatest gift that was ever forced upon me, regardless of its' ramifications and expense.
But sometimes through the haze, clarity breaks through, pressing its' claws into my mind and jarring me back towards reality, and the guilt that awaits me. Every foray into this imaginary world only worsens the return. And amidst the fog, I see myself as I am. . . or who I once was. The untainted me, the child who still had hope, who hung on to the thought that somewhere he had a mother who would return for him. He looks on me in disbelief and fear, as though he is staring over a cliff face, and death awaits at the bottom.
It mortifies me that he should see me this way, but on some level, I am glad that he yet dwells somewhere within. That I have not lost him entirely. He can still trust. He can still love. He remembers freedom.
And he knows, as I do, that we are not entirely to blame. Right? It's this place. This cold, unyielding steel. The men who took our childhood away. The guilt is not entirely ours. Or that is what I tell him.
Some days, I am disappointed in myself.
Every other day, I am disappointed in the world.
One of the Heretic donators (who has not yet authorized me to make their name public) requested I draw a sketch of Amon, with complete artistic freedom, perhaps exploring an idea I'd never had time to before. I really enjoyed working on this. The writing wasn't planned. . . it just kind of happened.
Category Artwork (Traditional) / General Furry Art
Species Jackal
Size 1016 x 625px
File Size 143.5 kB
Rukis you sly devil!
I wanted to send a message to you about the above you made before it even was posted.
Mainly surrounding Amon's past.
How he got to become one of the slaves, his past and fears. How a young kid like him could keep clinging on to life, to grow older yet hold the idea of freedom. And not seek out the way out that so many have done before.
Luther has had his Heretic.... But to Amon? I feel he too has such a compelling and sad story that has only been hinted at. I would adore the idea and sponsor such an endeavour about his past for sure!
The only true joy still that he so seeks, freedom. Whith Conviction being to that part where I hope Amon will confide into Luther his life of slavery. And the sacrifices he gave!
I wanted to send a message to you about the above you made before it even was posted.
Mainly surrounding Amon's past.
How he got to become one of the slaves, his past and fears. How a young kid like him could keep clinging on to life, to grow older yet hold the idea of freedom. And not seek out the way out that so many have done before.
Luther has had his Heretic.... But to Amon? I feel he too has such a compelling and sad story that has only been hinted at. I would adore the idea and sponsor such an endeavour about his past for sure!
The only true joy still that he so seeks, freedom. Whith Conviction being to that part where I hope Amon will confide into Luther his life of slavery. And the sacrifices he gave!
A really touching piece. I love his expression in the left hand sketch, and the background with just the right amount of detail: the cracks in the wall, the flowers.
The text is wonderful, too - there's a poetry to the imagery that seems to fit his character perfectly. I think it's the first writing of yours I've seen; would like to see more!
The text is wonderful, too - there's a poetry to the imagery that seems to fit his character perfectly. I think it's the first writing of yours I've seen; would like to see more!
Such a beautiful boy, appearing so soft and fragile; yet his eyes speak of a necessary toughness. It's so much so that you can almost imagine a stare of intense and barely-restrained anger, a glare of resistance above a muzzle covered in blood.
How long did it take for that resistance to be broken? That grit to be ground to a grim acceptance of his fate? How did he fall so far as to end up being able to be literally looked down upon by a child?
The adult need to be held and comforted; the child thinks he is simply undeserving of it. "You disgust me," his eyes seem to say. "I know," says the other.
How long did it take for that resistance to be broken? That grit to be ground to a grim acceptance of his fate? How did he fall so far as to end up being able to be literally looked down upon by a child?
The adult need to be held and comforted; the child thinks he is simply undeserving of it. "You disgust me," his eyes seem to say. "I know," says the other.
The reflection of yourself appears when you're sad and makes you look at what you've lived, saying, "Was it worth it?", "Did I do something wrong?", "I lost my life?" and then you realize who you really are and I've thought about those things too but every time I remember me lift harder and keep going on what I believe and make the best possible decisions in life, and love art because that is how it reflects "the past"...
Ah, Amon ... He's always been my favorite character in Red Lantern. I can't wait to learn more about his past, and what the future holds for him.
This one reminds me of some of your older pieces, "Tethered" and "Youth is a mirage". Seeing young Amon and knowing that at some point he had innocent hope of escaping that life just breaks my heart.
Now that he spent all of his earnings saving Dhaval from that polar bear, it really seems like it's all over for him. And even if he escapes, how will he cope with his addiction?
I hope that Luther isn't too mean to him on the next pages. The Admiral's company seems to be one of the few things that genuinely brighten Amon's days as of late. Why must that stupid dog ruin everything? >: [
I feel depressed looking at this ;<
This one reminds me of some of your older pieces, "Tethered" and "Youth is a mirage". Seeing young Amon and knowing that at some point he had innocent hope of escaping that life just breaks my heart.
Now that he spent all of his earnings saving Dhaval from that polar bear, it really seems like it's all over for him. And even if he escapes, how will he cope with his addiction?
I hope that Luther isn't too mean to him on the next pages. The Admiral's company seems to be one of the few things that genuinely brighten Amon's days as of late. Why must that stupid dog ruin everything? >: [
I feel depressed looking at this ;<
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