Spreading his paints before him once more he new that this was going to be a challenge for him. Ever since he had learned this bizarre technique from the elder witch woman. The power to travel between places and times through the canvas, the pains he had suffered to keep it hidden from all who would steal this gift from him. Doing what he must do. Sighing heavily he picked up his brush once more and let the scene unfold before him.
He had gone back to her for tutelage several times, until he could no longer afford to pay her heavy fees. For it was more than mere gold and jewels that she sought out. She demanded payment in secrets and souls. It was there in her remote village that he had learned the ancient mystical art that could be contained briefly within paintings and forever within tapestries. Day and night he slaved for a dozen new moons, gathering her supplies and learning her ways until she was satisfied that he had it right. Only then did she allow him to leave knowing that he would be back, filled with the desire for more and the loathing of the price to be paid.
However It was also from her that he learned more about what he was and how he could get around that which he hated the most. How he could keep his victims alive and feed for a year and a day, a secret he dared not to share with the others lest they drive him out to walk naked amongst the cattle. The memories of lifetimes past flowed through him, some causing grief and pain others joy ,tearing him in twain for what he was and what he had become. He knew that he could no more change what he was than to turn back the tide of time and thusly he carried on from day to day.
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