The 10th Circle - Abyss [Complete]

8. Engram: Wings (2)

I knocked politely at Feather's door and waited until she called me in. I had not been to anyone else's room but Cloud's and my own, and since I had found them to be exactly the same, I was not surprised that Feather's was identically furnished as well. But what I certainly hadn't expected in this place was the splendid display of color before my eyes.

From the far left corner, lush green vines sprouted forth and grew along one of the walls, covering them in a veritable curtain adorned with myriads of tiny blue and purple flowers. Through gaps between the green I spotted a wonderous landscape. It was a vast meadow basked in the glow of a warm summer sun, scattered with crumbled white walls and columns of ancient ruins, overgrown by moss and ivy. It looked like the kind of place where nymphs and fairies might live, and the scenery only seemed to wait for a brave explorer to step through and discover the mysteries that lay behind.

It took me a few seconds of completely awestruck staring to realize that it was a painting. The level of realism was, for lack of a beetter word, almost unreal. Uncanny. It looked so three dimensional that within the context of the bland, white room, the entire wall seemed to turn into a portal into another world. The style and atmosphere of the artwork reminded me of John William Waterhouse, only missing a beautiful female figure casually draped on a patch of grass at the viewer's feet.

The only female figure in the room, however, was the supposed artist herself. Feather was sitting upright in her bed, her blonde curls ruffled as if she had just gotten up from sleeping. Edge was there with her, raising the eyebrow over his blue eye in surprise as I entered.

"Oh wow! Is this exhibition for free or do I have to pay an entrance fee?" I greeted her with a friendly smile on my lips.

Feather giggled. "What kind of payment do you have in mind?"

"I brought some food," I said and held up the plate in my hands. "But it's not very good I think. I might have to find proper payment later."

I put the plate down on her nightstand, next to some leftovers of an earlier, barely touched meal. Then I took a few steps towards the painting to get a closer look.

"This is incredible. Did you paint this?" I asked the girl, and she nodded.

It must have taken a long time - and it reminded me of what Bridge had told me. Feather might have seemed like a child, but supposedly she was much older than she looked and had been here longer than anybody else. The level of detail to her work was certainly remarkable, and I could not even guess how long it must have taken to paint this.

As I walked along the wall, it seemed to me as if the leaves and blossoms along the vines and the painted grass at my feet moved under the soft caress of an intangible breeze. Small cracks ran across the columns of the ruins, giving them a weathered look. Yet upon closer inspection I realized they were actually a result of the paint cracking and flaking, probably from age.

And on second glance I also saw the parts of the painting that she was probably still working on, where layers of color, shadow or light were still missing. Those parts of the painting seemed still and unmoved, as if the magical breeze didn't quite reach them.

I pried my eyes away from this window into another world, as I remembered why I had come to her room in the first place.

"Sorry," I said, looking back and forth between Edge and Feather. "I didn't want to disturb you two. I'll leave-"

"No, wait!" the girl quickly interjected, with an unexpected strength in her otherwise soft voice. "Why... why don't you stay here, for a while? Please?"

"Sure, I don't see why not. If you don't mind?" I asked, and turned to Edge who did not seem to have an opinion and just shrugged slightly

I couldn't remember having heard a single word coming from him, and now I wondered if he ever spoke at all. There was something slightly unsettling about his silence, probably because his heterochromatic gaze of one blue and one brown eye reminded me of General Shield of the Talos force. At least in his case, I didn't really have to wonder what image in the real world might have inspired my mind to come up with someone like him. But somehow, I didn't get quite the same creepy vibe off Edge that Shield's blue glowing eye always gave me. It was just his silence and his deadpanned expression that made me wary of him. It was impossible to guess what he was feeling or thinking about.