Nostalgia

It is done. Now, so you know, I tried out a new technique with this one. It is a multimedia colored pencil, ink, and watercolor piece. Since I had not ever done anything like this before, I tried it out using strong references for the actual lines... I have habit of doing that when I am trying something new, because that way, if I totally ruin it, I don't care as much.

References I used include:
[link] by the wonderful
for the wolves: [link]
and thisfor the cherry blossoms: [link]

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. ^__^


Goes with this song: --> [link]

For this contest: --> [link]

To see more Ryu art, follow the links below:
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From in the time of Dragons

Whiteness surrounded him. It was like a blank page waiting for ink; like the emptiness of his mind, trying to remember what had been lost. Adrift in this nothingness, he almost gave in to melancholia, but then he noticed something in the distance. A faint shape taking form, like sumi paint bleeding into rice paper, slowly the fog lifted, cut away as if by sunlight.

It was a meadow of luscious grass stretching out into eternity. It folded over the land in gentle rolling hills, and resting at the peak of the highest wave of grasses stood a single tree. It was a glowing silhouette against a deep blue sky. Something about its white petal-dappled form was intriguing… like a face that was partially obscured by a mask about to fall off. He could almost make sense of it. He could almost remember why this tree felt so familiar. Drawn by this feeling he found himself walking toward it, and as he grew closer, more of its beautiful details could be seen. It was a white blossoming cherry tree, and he could see from the way the bows bended and twisted that it had been nurtured and guided in its growth by a master gardener. Everything about it felt intricately right.

At first it was just him and the tree, but then something moved in the corner of his eye. He turned to see it appearing atop the crest of a grassy hill for a brief moment and disappearing into a valley. Joyful yips and playful growls could be made out in the distance, and as he watched, a small pack of three white wolves came into view. Watching them frolic, part of him longed to join them as they chased about, pouncing on their comrades and darting about in circles and loops over the endless expanses of the meadow. One would grab at the neck fur of another and tug, trying to lead its playmate around, another would flop onto the grass and roll about in the rich scents of spring. They would leap over each other and weave in and out of one another in their dance and after a moment he understood that they were gradually working their way toward him and his tree.

Ryu watched them scurrying and prowling, he heard them whimpering and barking, and he longed to join them. They were graceful. They were fierce. They were majestic. The longing burned inside him, and he felt that he was looking upon his long lost family. A forgotten joy sent tremors through his soul. Wolf. That is what people used to call him. Wolf. He could hear their voices as clearly as if they were standing at his side. Wolf. Some said it with reverence, others uttered the word fearfully. He could hear voices filled with hatred, and one voices was rich with fondness. Wolf.

He turned to see who had called his name, but he saw no one. “Wolf.” He turned back and saw the three wolves standing under the tree, glorious in the filtered light. They were looking at him, patiently waiting for him. He started toward them, his legs working on their own, but somehow he couldn’t reach them. As he tried to join his family he saw one of them whimpering pityingly at him and they all turned away.

Were they going to leave him now? He was about to cry out for them to wait when he heard it again, “wolf,” and this time it came from the ringing voice of a girl. As he turned again he could hear the girl giggling as if she thought the word was a joke. Her voice was like a chime being tossed about in a gentle breeze. When his eyes gazed upon her, he found himself wrapped up in a resurfacing memory.

There she was, sitting with him under the tree, and he watches as she rested her head on his shoulder. He could see himself gazing lovingly at her. She was wearing an elaborate red and orange kimono, and her golden hair was fastened into an intricate style held in place by shining hair combs and hair sticks that shimmered in the sunlight. She looked up at him, an amused expression glittering through her emerald eyes and she said, “Is that what they are calling you now?” Her hand reached out to encase his. He could feel her hand wrapping around his; soft but strong. “I always thought you were more of a bird. Always free…” She motioned to the heavens with her free hand to emphasize it and he found himself glancing up at them, wondering.

When he let his eyes fall again, she was gone, and it seemed he was alone under the tree again. “Then again,” her voice was whispering in his ear now, and he could feel the steam of her breath on his cheek. “I guess you are a wolf.” He turned toward the voice, wanting to ask her if this was true… but she wasn’t standing near him anymore. The memory was gone and only the image of the girl remained.

She started to dance, playfully spinning around the tree, arms out. She had an enchanting smile which dimpled her cheeks. He watched her, captivated by her elegance, and as if equally entranced, the wolves began to dance and play with her. Together they moved about under the petals in a lively step that was both fluid and full of energy. At first, he thought it reminded him of water, but then an image of fire came to his mind. She was like fire, passionate, warm, and possibly dangerous… or was she the wind?

As she danced, a gentle breeze swirled around her and up into the branches. Petals left their flowers to join in the dance and even an occasional flower came loose from the tree’s hold to flutter about in the winds that caressed her every curve. They glided about her and drifted off into the distance, carried away by a stronger wind coming from someplace else.

One flower came loose near where he stood, and as it drifted down, he instinctively reached out to catch it. The cherry blossom landed gently in his palm. One of the wolves murmured a playful wolfish chortle as he gazed at it, but he didn’t hear. He was focused on the flower. It was a part of her, and she had given it to him. He admired its subtle and simply beauty, and wondered at how something so delicate and small, something so lovely could be his. He was scarcely aware as his new wolf family circled around him. Though moments before, he had wanted it so desperately, now it seemed trivial. Nothing was more precious than the girl and her flower, but as he looked up to tell her so, she was gone.

No! Where is she? He wondered if he had somehow scared her away, or if she had left because she did not like the wolf he had become. Desperate, he looked around, hoping to see a glimpse of her, but all he could see was gently blowing grass and one cherry tree. It was a lover’s tree, but he was standing under it alone. A quiet surrender started to creep into his heart: a black ink that cast deep shadows over everything he saw. He was a wolf now. He had gotten what he wanted but now it meant nothing to him. All he wanted was for a chance to see her looking at him with those brilliant green eyes one more time.


Kiala…


She wasn’t there. Everything faded to black.


When he opened his eyes again, he saw the wooden roof of the inn over his head and the first light of morning was creeping in through the small window. He closed his eyes again, focusing on trying to remember her face, but all he could clearly make out in the dimness of his mind were those shining eyes.

“Kiala.” He whispered, tasting the word, trying to savor every syllable. It tasted of nostalgia.