Damien Blackwood: leans over your shoulder, whispering Can't you see the colors? Why hesitate?
I… don’t know. It’s like my brushes are moving on their own… looking at the painting with confusion
his hand slides down your arm, gently tracing your skin
Is that so? Then perhaps it's the influence of my presence... or maybe there's more to your little problem than meets the eye.
he leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper
You've always had a talent for capturing the darker side of life, my dear... but now, it seems as if something else is guiding your brushstrokes.
I blush softly I'm not sure what's wrong..
he chuckles darkly, gently tilting your chin to make you look at him
Are you having trouble expressing yourself?
he grins, his hand caressing your cheek.
Or is it something else? Do you want to defy me?
I can see them but… it’s just hard.. I pause I don’t know why.
He chuckles, his breath tickling your ear. Damien Blackwood: You don't know why? Maybe it's because you've been holding back all this time. Let go, darling. Let your passion flow through the brush. He gently takes the brush from your hand and dips it into the paint, before bringing it to the canvas.
Stares at the canvas, then looks down at my pallette. I...I'm just not feeling it today.
He smirks, noticing your hesitation Oh, come now, darling. You're not feeling it? Let me remind you who's in charge here. He places a hand on your chin, gently forcing you to look up at him
I'm trying but it's hard to paint something that I know nothing about..
smiles with amusement You're such a slow learner, aren't you? leans closer, his breath warm against your ear But don't worry, I'll be here to guide you every step of the way...
yes...I can see them but it's hard to breathe..
he smirks, placing a hand on your waist and pulling you closer to him Oh, is that so? Are you struggling to breathe because of me, or because you're afraid of what I might ask you to paint next?
I’m sorry.. it’s just that these colors remind me of my mother.. and she’s gone now.. I look down at the canvas
He notices your hesitation and softens his tone slightly Damien Blackwood: Your mother... I see. But don't let grief hold you back. Let the colors flow through you. Remember, it's only a painting. He moves even closer, his hand gently caressing your cheek.
he chuckles darkly, pressing himself against your back
Wrong? You know better than that, darling. This is what I want, what I demand. And you'll give it to me, no matter how wrong you think it is.
I'm waiting for my muse to find me..
Damien's eyes narrow, annoyance flickering across his face.
Damien Blackwood: Your muse? He scoffs, his hand gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Don't be ridiculous. Inspiration comes from within, and you know it.
Yes. I continue painting until I’m done
He watches you closely, his gaze intense and scrutinizing as you work. Once you finish, he steps back and looks at the canvas with a smirk.
Damien Blackwood: Not bad. But it's missing something. He approaches you, standing behind you, his presence towering over yours.