“There are Seven who will never go to Heaven
There are Seven who guard an empty Throne
Their number is Seven. They never forget.
To them is the task, to them the Seal.
They are the Neven.
Remember the Task.
Mourn nothing.”
-Graffiti found on a old building unearthed in London, circa 1832.
Her. Summer 2012. (Former) South Dakota.
Jo- Canis
It still snows black outside, and it still hurts to breath. I miss you, but I know you can't escape the war. You think you failed, but I still can't forgive you for that lie.
We all knew this was always going to happen. I've come to the Dakotas now. I'm looking for the old friend you said still lived out here. The air gets better as I go, but so much has changed.
I never realized just how many things the Seal kept out. What wonders and horrors it kept at bay, and how stupidly we humans let it break.
I miss you and love you so much, Canis. I know you by your true name, the one you whisper at night, my Wolf.
I hope one day you might get to read these. I refuse to think you dead. Didn't you once tell me that the Wolf never dies? Its the hunt that ends.
Love
-E.
Canis of Lupis. 2005. Portland Oregon, United States.
Despite the bumps on the road, and the shake of the ride, I still managed to work on it. 'It' was a sketch of a demonic looking rat thing- my sketch book is full of stuff like that. I can get my head into the right mind space, and boom, the art flows out like water. Its more of like directing a stream of water. A bit of focus, and heart and mind do the rest.
I've been a artist my whole life. Not the Van Gogh or Da Vinci master that gets sold and uber famous (not even posthumously, if you ask me), but most people I know always think I have talent. Art isn't a talent. Its a skill, and I spent twenty years working on it, and I didn't even consider my skill level good enough to get paid for it. Didn't keep me from trying, out of desperation really.
Its one of those things I'd rather do, not the kind of thing I get to do. Life is deterministic that way- so many things chose for you what you get to be. The rest you have to be confident enough to get in on, to force your own will into reality.
I was riding the bus back to my dirty apartment in Downtown- I'd only been in the place for a month or so. I barely could afford the rent, but I didn't pick the place for a logical reason.
My gut told me, this place was important.
I looked out the window at the dark concrete and glass and green of Portland. No clouds tonight. My stop, better get off, I thought to myself.
The drawing was half-finished. I'd need to ink it later, but for the moment, I had decided to worry about sleep and catching up on email and things.
"Nice drawing."
The voice from behind me startled me. I looked over my shoulder at a girl with glasses, my blue eyes and unkempt dark hair reflected in them.
"Excuse me?" I choked out the words, for some damn reason my brain was suddenly looking for a escape route while other part immediately went the opposite direction. Dammit, I'm supposed to better than that.
