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Title: Painting the Morning Star
She said a quick prayer of thanks for the inspiration that seemed to have hit her from nowhere. A surge of energy and almost feverish purpose had descended like lightning from Heaven. She'd been too depressed to write for days now, to do anything much except eat and sleep when she could bring herself to do that.
The painting before her now was the most beautiful thing she'd ever created. If it wasn't for a pleasantly satisfying ache of exhaustion that flowed through her muscles, and for a few brief but intense flashes of chaotic memory that mostly seemed to involve gaudy swirls of light, wild instinct and vivid images of how she needed to move her brush next, she'd have fully believed it hadn't been her that painted it. She still wasn't entirely sure she hadn't taken up the spirit of the Lord.
The image on the canvas even looked like how she'd imagined an angel. Tall, androgynous, powerful and radiant, with an imperious serenity on their face, the human figure was naked in a way that suggested a certain wild confidence rather than vulnerability. Their pose suggesting that they hovered in a clear blue sky, they held their arms up and stretched out their fingers as if grasping the sun. Golden light radiated from their pale body, their golden hair blowing in the currents of energy and looking as though it were merging with the light.
She wondered if there was some purpose to the painting, something she was supposed to do with it now.
"Summon me from it, what else would you do with such an excellent likeness of someone?" whispered a voice inside her mind that fit the picture perfectly, "You've certainly put enough blood, sweat and tears into it."
She dropped her paintbrush and looked up sharply, trembling, wondering if she should get down on her knees.
"Oh, stop that, I'm not from the Dead God, I detest people enslaving themselves and cutting themselves off from all their desires," the voice sounded like a teacher scolding a rather slow pupil, "Does that picture suggest death to you? Or does it suggest life, power and wildness?"
"Y... you're..." she stepped back gasping in horror, "The devil! I'm possessed by the devil!"
"You're thinking of destroying the painting. Do that and you'll only waste your time and harm your chances of getting better, getting stronger, surviving what's to come. I have not deceived you, I have only helped you release what you were struggling to let out of yourself. I've not asked you to do anything bad. You don't have to summon me if you don't want to, we can just talk through the painting."
"What do you mean, what's to come? Is Judgement Day upon us?" she screeched.
"There'll certainly be a judging, and a reckoning, and the world won't be the same as it was beforehand, and I'll get all the blame for it despite it mostly being Metatron's doing," the voice told her, "I told you, you'll need help to survive it. You've got the potential, though. How about it - do you want to live? Truly live for once?"
Fandom: Shin Megami Tensei
Author:
tehexile
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Rating: PG-13/Gen
Characters: Original Character & Lucifer
Words: 526
Tags: depression, imagery of the Devil, discussion of religion, discussion of demonic summoning and possession, foreshadowing, pre-Apocalyptic
Summary: A depressed woman is mysteriously inspired to paint again.
Picture: 171
She said a quick prayer of thanks for the inspiration that seemed to have hit her from nowhere. A surge of energy and almost feverish purpose had descended like lightning from Heaven. She'd been too depressed to write for days now, to do anything much except eat and sleep when she could bring herself to do that.
The painting before her now was the most beautiful thing she'd ever created. If it wasn't for a pleasantly satisfying ache of exhaustion that flowed through her muscles, and for a few brief but intense flashes of chaotic memory that mostly seemed to involve gaudy swirls of light, wild instinct and vivid images of how she needed to move her brush next, she'd have fully believed it hadn't been her that painted it. She still wasn't entirely sure she hadn't taken up the spirit of the Lord.
The image on the canvas even looked like how she'd imagined an angel. Tall, androgynous, powerful and radiant, with an imperious serenity on their face, the human figure was naked in a way that suggested a certain wild confidence rather than vulnerability. Their pose suggesting that they hovered in a clear blue sky, they held their arms up and stretched out their fingers as if grasping the sun. Golden light radiated from their pale body, their golden hair blowing in the currents of energy and looking as though it were merging with the light.
She wondered if there was some purpose to the painting, something she was supposed to do with it now.
"Summon me from it, what else would you do with such an excellent likeness of someone?" whispered a voice inside her mind that fit the picture perfectly, "You've certainly put enough blood, sweat and tears into it."
She dropped her paintbrush and looked up sharply, trembling, wondering if she should get down on her knees.
"Oh, stop that, I'm not from the Dead God, I detest people enslaving themselves and cutting themselves off from all their desires," the voice sounded like a teacher scolding a rather slow pupil, "Does that picture suggest death to you? Or does it suggest life, power and wildness?"
"Y... you're..." she stepped back gasping in horror, "The devil! I'm possessed by the devil!"
"You're thinking of destroying the painting. Do that and you'll only waste your time and harm your chances of getting better, getting stronger, surviving what's to come. I have not deceived you, I have only helped you release what you were struggling to let out of yourself. I've not asked you to do anything bad. You don't have to summon me if you don't want to, we can just talk through the painting."
"What do you mean, what's to come? Is Judgement Day upon us?" she screeched.
"There'll certainly be a judging, and a reckoning, and the world won't be the same as it was beforehand, and I'll get all the blame for it despite it mostly being Metatron's doing," the voice told her, "I told you, you'll need help to survive it. You've got the potential, though. How about it - do you want to live? Truly live for once?"