Is it too late?

I had a dream about her she would not let me see her face.

She said it was not time, and something held me down.

I wanted to peek, I think she knew.

She said instead to go to her Church, and within the walls I would find a broken man.

He would help me.

He was kind. 

Yet he was not broken, he was shattered.

Ser Elias, I asked how you were.

I think you tried to hold it together. I hope you liked the picture I painted.

She lets me see it, as much as it hurts at times. She lets me see what is inside.

I hope you aren't sad. I hope you remember. 

I am sad, I think she wanted me to be there. To ask you how you were?

Not that it mattered, but if I see you again, I think I'll try to paint an Eternal Painting. . .and I hope you tell me your story.

Today I met a strange young girl

A girl named Bao, she was nice. 

Yet she held back in her story. . . .they always do when I first start to work. 

I think it's better this way, my mind swims sometimes.

I haven't seen her in my dreams.

I have had nightmares. . of The Dreamer.

It felt like it saw something in me in the square. 

I tried to draw The Dreamer as well, I felt as if I was swimming. Lost in a place of shadows, and smoke.

I didn't like that feeling.

Perhaps when I dream tonight she will come.

What a strange name Bao.

 

I prayed IT would not return so soon, and yet.

They came back, that strange entity.

It calls itself an Archivist, and yet it feels like a Nightmare.

I dream of it, more than I dream of HER and it makes me sad, and angry.

When will I be able to see her again? She did not let me gaze at her face.

Yet this thing, invades my thoughts.

Dreamscape. Is she in that place as well?

My muse. . . .

I spend my nights studying medicine, and alchemy and hope that she will come when exhaustion takes it's toll.

I have realized now she has a name.

I did not hear it before, but I overhear it in whispers.

I hear it in song.

EOS

A festival, a festival!

I had the chance to go to a festival and something happened.

I helped hatch a dragon egg how strange.

A feathered creature, and while I didn't have time to paint a full picture.

It was strangely beautiful seeing the faces of Osrona and the Fireblood intermingled.

This world is full of strange things. 

But my brush will not stop.

Until I can craft the ETERNAL.

I haven't had the chance to write in my journal recently, another day another painting. 
I did a self - portrait, how strange.

I haven't painted one before. . . but I looked in the mirror today and knew soon SHE would come to visit. 
It's been so busy lately inside and outside the city.
War is striking through the lands and I feel as if many people and things will change.

I finally managed to speak to Cerise, what a brilliant mind, I'm forever grateful to be surrounded by such people.
I feel as if my life is being spent buried in books.
Yet. . . that is fine.
Somehow I am at peace with this. . . because everything I learn and do is for my craft, and I guess in extension for those who are considered her people.

It is with this growing knowledge that I have hopes of pursuing the highest form of art.