HP: Spirit Talker

"Ignorance of the law doesn't absolve one of responsibility, does it?" — I thought, gazing longingly at the silvery, impossible stars.

That first night on the Sakishima Islands, I had experienced the breathtaking beauty of the night sky at sea. I had never seen anything like it in my life, even though I had been to the seas. But here, I mean islands in the middle of the ocean, it's different.

It doesn't matter if you look up or down, it's the same! You stare into the darkness, into a deep blue, in which many beacons have settled — guides of life, guiding sources of warmth, lonely heroes, guarding and cherishing, blinding and sizzling.

You fall deeper and deeper into the bottomless black water filled with star mirages, afraid of getting lost in the cold of space. You are drawn further and further into the icy abyss of loneliness, beautiful and prickly. You are afraid to breathe, shuddering for fear of suffocating or freezing....afraid to move or speak louder than a whisper, lest you spoil the thrill of being one with something wonderful.

I wasn't afraid of dying or losing my magic — it didn't matter after what I'd heard. I had learned that once a soul had seen the magic of the wonders of magic, it would never forget it, even if it went through Purgatory, Inferno, or Rest.

Once magic has touched a soul, it will never leave! It is cruel! It can punish for sins, take away power, but the soul will suffer for a long time, even if it doesn't understand why, doesn't remember what it has lost, just feels that it has been mutilated in some way. I have a silver plate in my lap, and in my palms I hold sand, generously infused with magic.

The sand slips through my fingers, changes color at my will, turns every shade under my emotions. I just KNOW it, even though I've never looked down, never seen what's happening. Miracles are the diocese of the living, and no matter who or what they are — this was also revealed to me not too long ago. Miracles are right, and there must be miracles, otherwise life disappears, leaves the world. No logic? AND YOU ARE LIFE? Life. A particle of it, but impossibly small, and the particle can't understand the whole idea.

Yes, melancholy is like that. I feel heavy and uncomfortable and then I wanted to embody a starry night and here I am. I realized what to do. I know how to do it. And now I am sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of cold space and the gentle warmth of the South China Sea.

***

The viscous delirium didn't let me out for a long time. It was like a muddy, viscous swamp of fever that tortured and twisted. Blurred flashes of reality were blinding supernovae in a world of thick, dark caramel, sticky and scalding. But one day I simply "emerged" from this morass and found myself lying in a small house bungalow on a primitive bed. But I did not care, for it was unexpectedly comfortable, and the breeze that blew freely through the rooms was pleasantly refreshing. I raised myself up on my elbows, lifted the pillow higher, and was able to look at the sunlit shore.

The bright sun was not blinding, not burning, and seemed somehow ... "native" or something? It's hard to explain, especially when you don't understand your own feelings. The azure wave washed the snow-white sand leisurely and calmly, creating a measured, pleasant rustle. It was soothing, bringing peace to my heart. Turning his head slightly, he saw Ryuko.

The girl was sitting in the shade of palm trees, playing with shells and pebbles, and around her were many living creatures, such as various birds, crabs, and a large turtle, from which a powerful pressure of vitality, peace, and benevolence could be felt. The child herself was radiating a powerful fountain of pure emotion, breaking through even the blocks of control and suppression.

— Are you awake? — A voice came from behind me.

I turned my head and saw a very beautiful Asian woman, about my height. Involuntarily sucking in air through my nostrils, I immediately realized that it was Ryuko's mother. The girl, who looked young and fresh, walked into the room with a light, slightly dancing gait and lowered herself into a wicker chair. There was no point in answering, because there was no question.

What I could sense told me much about the creature, who looked like a ravishing beauty. Amazingly harmonious, breathtakingly perfect, inhumanly beautiful, unrealistically wonderful....

I could go on and on, but the bottom line is the same — a miracle. A miracle incarnate. A simpleton will see a simply delightful girl, to possess which any man, even an incurable impotent, and any woman will know despair.

Tenno-sama is very beautiful, she just radiates crazy sex appeal, as well as a sense of unattainability. Which makes you want her and realize that you don't have the right to have her.

 It's completely different here. When you see a beautiful sunset filled with all the colors of the world, do you want to grab it? When you see the clear, limpid waters of warm seas, do you desire them? Do you desire inaccessible snow-capped mountains? The dragon is a pure ideal that you want to admire and protect from desecration. A miracle incarnate.

The dragon's jewelry was very similar to Ryuko's, white earrings with azure pearls, a pendant on a thin chain, and thin rings on each finger. I was also interested in the fact that, unlike her daughter, she didn't have horns and her ears were quite human, not to mention the color of her hair. No, she's amazing...

— Meiumi-sama, — I changed my pose and bowed, sitting on my knees on the bed. — Would you allow me to draw you?

The girl turned her head towards me, blinking in surprise, and tilted her head towards my shoulder, looking at me with her amazing azure eyes. She asked me a question with a raised eyebrow. I began to worry, and inside I was impatient, as if something was tearing at me.

— I would like to paint your portrait, if I may. — I bowed my head.

— Why? — It's really a question this time.

— You are a miracle, and even if I can't convey all of your beauty, even the crumbs I have will be enough to satisfy my pride as an artist and the hunger of those who will see you.

— And if I don't give you the painting? — The dragon smiled slightly.

— By allowing me to paint you, you do me an honor I will never forget. If you wish to keep my work, I would be delighted.

— Very well. — After a moment of silence, the dragon replied with a slight shake of her head and turned away from her daughter. — But you will paint more than one picture, starting with a landscape, the place on the island I will show you. If I don't like it, I won't let you paint me. ....

— I'll do my best. — I bow my head again.

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