Welcome to Gaia! ::

Lets WELCOME Yukafhei To the guild everybody!

It was difficult work, she had decided, getting things just right. Others spoke of feng shui like they understood it. How the interplay of light and darkness could wreak havoc on the universe within a room, how each and every piece of furniture reached it's own celestial harmonies by the distance between it and other pieces. How this direction favored the infusions found in that form, and how that color created a pleasing resonance for the rest of the room. Really, all those 'feng shui masters' out there who groused and quibbled like a flock of mother hens, they were just posers. It took more than one lifetime to get details like these right. Fortunately for her, she had all the time she could ever need. Using just one finger, she carefully poked at her latest acquisition, inching it closer and closer to it's final destination. After all, the journey was just as important as the destination, and that held true here, as well. Why wouldn't it? After all, to create a pleasing harmony, one had to use a deft hand and sure movements. It was like cooking, you didn't just throw everything in a pot. You prepared it, cleaned it, treated it with love and used each component to it's full potential. Only then did you achieve the desired results. That was why she had spent the last ten hours working on just this one piece. To get even one detail wrong would create a blemish on her progress. It wouldn't be easy to fix, she couldn't just remove it and start over. No, removing it and replacing it with another, unsullied by her error, that was an entire ordeal in and of itself. But she wouldn't make a mistake. She had practiced these movements hundreds, possibly thousands of times, both in her head and with her own hands. They felt like second nature to her by now. There would be no mistakes, there would only be the proper result.

Three days later, Yodan no Keishi emerged from her latest work, finally satisfied. Not having to stop for sleep or food, she had worked constantly, and was feeling it now. Even the dead could eventually tire. But it had been worth it, she felt a profound sense of satisfaction in her work. when others found it, would they understand the message in it? Would they see the juxtaposition of colors, and understand them for what they were? Some might get a glimpse of the message, but would anyone truly know it for what it was? She would have to wait, wait and listen, let the razor-sharp talons of eccentric critics tear her delicate work to pieces, and only then see what secrets it held.

Later that morning, the first person who walked into the charnelhouse fainted straightaway. The sheer overload of the macabre had stolen their consciousness. Later, when the local gendarme had cordoned off the area, only then had the details really become known. Bones, stripped clean of flesh and blood, polished and coated with thin layers of delicate hues, had been aligned so as to create an optical illusion in the room. The subtle curve of the clavicle gave way to the arrogant lines of a femur, only to sink into the delicate and seeming haphazard array of fingerbones. The walls had been painted, literally, with blood, broad strokes over the areas where the morning light had created the longest shadows, more refined strokes to add detail. Even the colors of the blood changed, almost imperceptibly, showing that there had been multiple coats, at different stages of drying. As for the skin and organs that remained? Those, too, had been used. The skin made a wonderful canvas for art of a different timbre. Stretched over a homemade rack made from the victim's own spine, the hide had been tanned, then treated so as to look like fine leather.

In this way, seventeen bodies had been carefully prepared. But the careful critique that the artist sought was woefully inaccurate. They saw no beauty in this, the most primal of art. They saw nothing in the graceful symmetry, nothing in the barely restrained sense of chaos. They just saw, as they put it, 'disgusting filth' and 'insensate destruction'. The first critique was always the toughest, though. Keishi knew that one day, there would come an understanding. One day, her vision would be set before their eyes, and they would perceive it in the same way she did. Why, maybe then they might even hear the background music to accompany such art! After all, she was a 'live' performer, and her supplies had been quite 'live'. At least until about the halfway point...