Look So Tired-unhappy

Look so tired-unhappy

"A heart that's full up like a landfill

A job that slowly kills you

Bruises that won't heal

You look so tired-unhappy..."

Panic at the disco

Another day is over

Canvas 50/70

Material: gouache

It took me too long. But I don't regret anything. Kim, why is drawing your face so difficult?

A little bit of the composition development process

Cool! Rock it up, Adam!

Adam time!

I'm over it

Annotation: Life sometimes behaves like a real bitch. And even if vampires have difficult days, what can we say about a small, even very strong, person. This story is just about not the best day.

hurt/comfort

P.S. I apologize for my English, if you notice any mistakes, please let me know. Enjoy reading )

Everything in my eyes became cloudy and swam, like after a month of being an almost-vampire with perfect vision, only ten times worse. The roar of pulsating blood began to grow in my ears, intensifying with every second. Hands reached to the ears in the hope of stopping all this, and the back and the remnants of a sober consciousness tried to feel the wall and floor. It seemed like something hit something while it was “falling,” but the crash didn’t stop the sickening noise and racing heart rate. The blood burned in the veins, like lava drowning in the suffering of Pompeii, it was no longer a matter of what the Owner would think and whether he would want to get to this juicy delicacy. "The familiar has deteriorated, is no longer useful, must be eliminated."

-You know?! I don’t care... - the man tiredly shouted to the vampire standing in front of him, emphasizing the words with a sharply begun, but powerlessly broken wave of his hands. He's tired. Everything is useless, no matter what happens, no matter what he does, no matter what he undertakes, every time it does not lead to the desired result. Even such a desired achievement of the curse of warpirism went wrong. An incomprehensible, terrible transformation of debt, the threat of death, and then the disgusting awareness of one’s insignificance and inability to kill a person for food, as well as the murder of a friend and the one who converted. All this, coupled with the complete return of the vampire house to the same thing as it was, without noticeable changes, is completely unsettling. Of course, Guellermo was much stronger and more resilient than many, many people, but even these have their limits. The point of no return, it is impossible to find and prevent getting beyond it in advance. On your own for sure. After these words, the house in which I had lived for ten years ceased to have any meaning. Something went out in these walls, as if all the candles had been extinguished at once, leaving not a single bright spot. The owner's room, small closet, basement and attic no longer inspired a sense of value and a certain mystical appeal. The paintings turned pale, the wood of the coffin faded and became covered with many defects. And the Master himself... Delacruz no longer looked at him, he didn’t look at anything anymore.

Thinking about this brought waves to the corners of my eyes, ready to break through the dam, by some miracle, of my remaining self-control.

-Guellermo? - with complete lack of understanding in his voice, he pronounced the name Nandor, - Guellermo, stop this. What are you doing? - the vampire said more intensely. But there was no answer. The room continued to fill with heavy, ragged breathing, which meant only one thing: it wasn’t going to get any better. The ruler of Al-Kar-Nadar stood and unsuccessfully called for his familiar, not daring to do anything else, the unusual situation was unfolding right now. This was something that had never been seen before and was completely out of character for him as a person.

- Gellermo, stop this,- says the familiar creature, more timidly and anxiously, no longer trying to understand what is happening. This is reflected in blire eyes Gellermo. But his was no longer in this world and situation. Sadness, pain, despair, panic and a lot of unexpressed things could no longer be inside and burst out into the open with trembling and tears rolling continuously down the cheeks, leaving furrows so similar to scars. It doesn't matter what happens next anymore. Life has no meaning, because there is no longer any purpose or meaning behind it. The wish came true, but it turned into a curse, all the torment and torture were in vain, he was left completely alone.

You won’t return to your family, there is no one in this house, you just a convenient tool that, if broken and no longer needed, is easier to throw away or... eat.

The glassy, ​​slightly trembling pupils in the reddened eyes rose and pinned the Master to his place. Whose eyes immediately widened in concern.

- Mr., Nandor, kill me,- the voice never wavered during the last words. Who said this now? Which part of the consciousness wanted to stop everything or whether it was a mutual decision, even the speaker himself would not give an answer.

- Guellermo, what are you saying? Any nonsense again? Guellermo, don't irritate me. Guellermo, is everything okay? - questions, continuous questions rained down from the bearded lips, but no answer was heard, only a silent movement of the lips with three readable words “useless”, “kill”, “me”. The room floated, and the words, like a mantra, spread throughout all its corners, creeping in and saturating everything with their poison. There is nothing left to lose, everything is left somewhere there, decades ago, in the past. My hands lay lifeless on the floor, my head hung, I no longer had the strength to block out the noise and wipe away the river of tears. All that was left was a submissive expectation of death from the Master’s never-known fangs.

All the years lived dissolve in the stream of consciousness, ironically, tinting only the most negative things. He was not successful in anything: not as VanHelsing, not as a bodyguard, not as a friend and family member, and certainly not as a vampire. Through the veil you can hear a light crack and something heavy falls nearby. The soft antique fabric touches the bare skin, surprisingly grounding and at least a little tearing you out of the abyss of terrifying thoughts.

A voice, surprisingly gentle, with those same foreign notes that have disappeared, crackles nearby. Guellermo can’t make out a word, but for some reason his soul becomes so calm.

Nandor will demand an explanation later, but for now he will remain here in a half-whisper, humming a lullaby that has sunk into summer. He presses closer and feels his familiar head fall on his shoulder, hears his breathing gradually stabilize and sees his man fall asleep...

With one movement of the hand, all doors leading into the room are locked. No one is allowed to disturb or see. The last latch moves into the guard position with a quiet but reliable click, everything is done, the vampire has secured his territory. The head falls back with relief, the pupil falls to the side and examines the trembling man. Halfway through asking the question, the realization came that there would be no answer anyway. The cloak carefully slid off the shoulder and covered the one who pressed closer. Now all that's left to do is wait. Awakenings, explanations and lulls of unknown warmth in the eternally cold military heart.

Endless Evening

Пускай, вечер длиться бесконечно,

Пускай, небо ярко так горит,

Ну а мы, пожалуй, полежим беспечно,

Осмысляя в тишине свой мир.