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Cut off from the dream/
Where the sky meets water/
Beneath forgotten stars/
Feeling like a child/
I embrace what I came for/
And what I’ve overcome/
Oh, it’s a lovely life/
You have gone so far/
Don’t give it up/
Oh, it’s a lovely life/
You gotta go with/
What you think is right/
Delve into myself/
With my truth and devotion/
I start another flow/
Gliding up and down/
In my yearning for daylight/
I find you in my soul/
Oh, it’s a lovely life/
Sun emerges from behind the clouds/
Oh, it’s a lovely life/
You gotta go with/
What you think is right/
Cut off from the dream/
Where the sky meets water/
Beneath forgotten stars/
I feel like a child/
Found in waking life/
- Riverside - "Found (The Unexpected Flaw of Searching)"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nN0uSZ8xNcs
“Trace,” echoed an ethereal voice.
Eyes fluttering open, the stoat slowly awakened to a world he’d never thought real. The pastel sky with its wistful hues of orange and indigo welcomed him with the open arms of unwavering refuge. Drifting across the empyrean sphere, the stratus and cumulus clouds reinforced this implicit impression of security with their ostensibly predestined ease of motion. There was no uncertainly here. All was safe inside this heavenly asylum. Trace didn’t need to be told of such truths. They were viscerally incontrovertible. The distinct scent of ozone only emphasized this inherent conviction. Whatever new world Trace had discovered was unlike anything he’d witnessed yet it was unequivocally evocative of nostalgia. Whatever the circumstance, Trace knew one indisputable fact which kept him grounded and secure. Even here, adrift in this sea of forgetfulness, he was not lost.
“Trace?”
With his arms and legs splayed out, the unmistakable dampness of still water wet his fur and overcoat. A cool gust of wind teased the stoat’s hair as he sat up. From this position, the full scale and scope of his surroundings became more apparent. The ground was but a placid spread of pristine, tranquil water stretching every which direction towards the horizon. Reflecting no movement or ripple but the tracts of coasting clouds, the water was an enormous mirror; and the stoat was sitting atop it. In here, all was soothing. The scenery’s gentleness bathed the ermine in the warm sunshine of a sky held sway by an everlasting daybreak. It hurt simply to look upon it. Gazing into the firmament’s peaceful visage, a spring of fresh tears began to well up. So enraptured was he by its resplendent splendor, that Trace hadn’t yet noticed the new arrival standing a couple feet behind him.
“Hey, kid, you gonna lay there all day, or do I have to drag your ass out of bed?”
These words. If not from this life than some other, these were words which resounded with profound significance. As the stoat stood, the speaker’s presence manifested itself in full. Upon pivoting, the new arrival was revealed to be a young boy grinning from ear to ear with insouciant charm. He, too, was a stoat no older than eight with unkempt, inky black hair underneath a nondescript brown newsie cap. The cheery boy’s attire insinuated an era which had long since vanished into the annuls of yesteryear. He wore a gray tweed sweater vest over a long-sleeve, button-down shirt, black trousers and a polished pair of cognac wingtips. This smiling child, along with his beguiling appearance and gruff Chicago accent, was a paradoxical vision of the foreign and the familiar.
“Oh, by the way, Dad said you can keep the coat. Said it fits you nicely. If you ask me, though, I think it’s the smell. That’s why he doesn’t want it back. He knows he’ll never wash your stink off the thing.”
“Boy, you’re lucky I don’t pop you in the mouth,” he said in jest, reciting a phrase from that same wayward and misplaced lifetime. Trace wasn’t sure why he said it, but deep inside the recesses of his restless soul, saying those words felt like the most proper reaction.
“Listen here, you dewdropper, I’m here to tell you that when you’re all done with what you’re doing, you can home.”
Enthralled, the stoat knelt before the intriguing boy and asked, “Come home?”
“That’s what I said. Haven’t gone deaf, have we?” The young stoat chortled. “We’re all waiting for you. All of us. That includes Lisbeth, so you know. You really want to keep her of all people waiting forever? ‘Cuz that won’t end well, let me tell you.”
“Lizzy,” the older ermine mused with wide eyes, his heart registering what his mind had long forgotten. “I don’t understand. I don’t know you. I don’t know a Lisbeth either. None of this is real. I haven’t dreamed in so long that I—”
It was at that moment when Trace’s heart splintered. With both arms shaking and kneecaps quaking, the ermine embraced the young boy as he fell to pieces. What came next was a resurgence of remembrance, but it was all without context. Emerging from the fog of pure abstraction, words fell into place which felt right but lacked conscious resonance. As he sobbed uncontrollably into the boy’s chest, every thought emerging from the ether was still one of intense sincerity.
“I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re thinking” the boy softly assured, reciprocating the hug. “I don’t blame you for what happened at the farm. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.”
“I’m so glad—just so glad—you’re safe,” Trace confessed between deep draughts of air as he gasped for breath. “I’m so sorry. That’s all I ever wanted for you. When they died, keeping you safe was all that mattered. I wanted to give you a better life. Better than mine. One that was safe and happy.”
“And you did that! What makes you think you didn’t? Do I look like somebody who’s not happy to see you? C’mon, Trace, what’s wrong? You think after everything we’ve been through and all we’ve seen, I wouldn’t be here to help?
“You’re right, Eli. Nothing’s wrong,” Trace said, stifling more tears with a relieved grin. “Everything’s jake.”
As always, I want to take time to thank the incredible
aerokat for all her hard work and dedication. She did an absolutely spectacular job bringing the image of Trace reuniting with his little brother to life. I'm truly in love with this piece. It's everything I could have hoped for and then some. Honestly, I really can't thank her enough for not only this commission, but for all the ones I've received up until now. Everyone should check out her gallery since I've got it on good authority that there's plenty more cool art to see over there.
If you're at all curious, here's also the link to her Patreon:
https://www.patreon.com/poecatcomix/posts
Every contribution, no matter how small, is helpful in keeping the steady flow of cool art coming.
art is © aerokat
Eli and Trace O'Rourke are ©
nazcapilot
Where the sky meets water/
Beneath forgotten stars/
Feeling like a child/
I embrace what I came for/
And what I’ve overcome/
Oh, it’s a lovely life/
You have gone so far/
Don’t give it up/
Oh, it’s a lovely life/
You gotta go with/
What you think is right/
Delve into myself/
With my truth and devotion/
I start another flow/
Gliding up and down/
In my yearning for daylight/
I find you in my soul/
Oh, it’s a lovely life/
Sun emerges from behind the clouds/
Oh, it’s a lovely life/
You gotta go with/
What you think is right/
Cut off from the dream/
Where the sky meets water/
Beneath forgotten stars/
I feel like a child/
Found in waking life/
- Riverside - "Found (The Unexpected Flaw of Searching)"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nN0uSZ8xNcs
“Trace,” echoed an ethereal voice.
Eyes fluttering open, the stoat slowly awakened to a world he’d never thought real. The pastel sky with its wistful hues of orange and indigo welcomed him with the open arms of unwavering refuge. Drifting across the empyrean sphere, the stratus and cumulus clouds reinforced this implicit impression of security with their ostensibly predestined ease of motion. There was no uncertainly here. All was safe inside this heavenly asylum. Trace didn’t need to be told of such truths. They were viscerally incontrovertible. The distinct scent of ozone only emphasized this inherent conviction. Whatever new world Trace had discovered was unlike anything he’d witnessed yet it was unequivocally evocative of nostalgia. Whatever the circumstance, Trace knew one indisputable fact which kept him grounded and secure. Even here, adrift in this sea of forgetfulness, he was not lost.
“Trace?”
With his arms and legs splayed out, the unmistakable dampness of still water wet his fur and overcoat. A cool gust of wind teased the stoat’s hair as he sat up. From this position, the full scale and scope of his surroundings became more apparent. The ground was but a placid spread of pristine, tranquil water stretching every which direction towards the horizon. Reflecting no movement or ripple but the tracts of coasting clouds, the water was an enormous mirror; and the stoat was sitting atop it. In here, all was soothing. The scenery’s gentleness bathed the ermine in the warm sunshine of a sky held sway by an everlasting daybreak. It hurt simply to look upon it. Gazing into the firmament’s peaceful visage, a spring of fresh tears began to well up. So enraptured was he by its resplendent splendor, that Trace hadn’t yet noticed the new arrival standing a couple feet behind him.
“Hey, kid, you gonna lay there all day, or do I have to drag your ass out of bed?”
These words. If not from this life than some other, these were words which resounded with profound significance. As the stoat stood, the speaker’s presence manifested itself in full. Upon pivoting, the new arrival was revealed to be a young boy grinning from ear to ear with insouciant charm. He, too, was a stoat no older than eight with unkempt, inky black hair underneath a nondescript brown newsie cap. The cheery boy’s attire insinuated an era which had long since vanished into the annuls of yesteryear. He wore a gray tweed sweater vest over a long-sleeve, button-down shirt, black trousers and a polished pair of cognac wingtips. This smiling child, along with his beguiling appearance and gruff Chicago accent, was a paradoxical vision of the foreign and the familiar.
“Oh, by the way, Dad said you can keep the coat. Said it fits you nicely. If you ask me, though, I think it’s the smell. That’s why he doesn’t want it back. He knows he’ll never wash your stink off the thing.”
“Boy, you’re lucky I don’t pop you in the mouth,” he said in jest, reciting a phrase from that same wayward and misplaced lifetime. Trace wasn’t sure why he said it, but deep inside the recesses of his restless soul, saying those words felt like the most proper reaction.
“Listen here, you dewdropper, I’m here to tell you that when you’re all done with what you’re doing, you can home.”
Enthralled, the stoat knelt before the intriguing boy and asked, “Come home?”
“That’s what I said. Haven’t gone deaf, have we?” The young stoat chortled. “We’re all waiting for you. All of us. That includes Lisbeth, so you know. You really want to keep her of all people waiting forever? ‘Cuz that won’t end well, let me tell you.”
“Lizzy,” the older ermine mused with wide eyes, his heart registering what his mind had long forgotten. “I don’t understand. I don’t know you. I don’t know a Lisbeth either. None of this is real. I haven’t dreamed in so long that I—”
It was at that moment when Trace’s heart splintered. With both arms shaking and kneecaps quaking, the ermine embraced the young boy as he fell to pieces. What came next was a resurgence of remembrance, but it was all without context. Emerging from the fog of pure abstraction, words fell into place which felt right but lacked conscious resonance. As he sobbed uncontrollably into the boy’s chest, every thought emerging from the ether was still one of intense sincerity.
“I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re thinking” the boy softly assured, reciprocating the hug. “I don’t blame you for what happened at the farm. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.”
“I’m so glad—just so glad—you’re safe,” Trace confessed between deep draughts of air as he gasped for breath. “I’m so sorry. That’s all I ever wanted for you. When they died, keeping you safe was all that mattered. I wanted to give you a better life. Better than mine. One that was safe and happy.”
“And you did that! What makes you think you didn’t? Do I look like somebody who’s not happy to see you? C’mon, Trace, what’s wrong? You think after everything we’ve been through and all we’ve seen, I wouldn’t be here to help?
“You’re right, Eli. Nothing’s wrong,” Trace said, stifling more tears with a relieved grin. “Everything’s jake.”
As always, I want to take time to thank the incredible
aerokat for all her hard work and dedication. She did an absolutely spectacular job bringing the image of Trace reuniting with his little brother to life. I'm truly in love with this piece. It's everything I could have hoped for and then some. Honestly, I really can't thank her enough for not only this commission, but for all the ones I've received up until now. Everyone should check out her gallery since I've got it on good authority that there's plenty more cool art to see over there. If you're at all curious, here's also the link to her Patreon:
https://www.patreon.com/poecatcomix/posts
Every contribution, no matter how small, is helpful in keeping the steady flow of cool art coming.
art is ©
aerokatEli and Trace O'Rourke are ©
nazcapilot
Category All / All
Species Weasel
Size 1152 x 786px
File Size 715.7 kB
Comments