#project gaiaea

[farewellfarevelle]

I wanna do environment art but I fear it would take me a week to finish-

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I WILL FIX THIS STORY'S PLOTHOLES!

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A mad scientist and a mad dictator?

I wonder if the caption is appropriate /gen

Might change it I don't know

Totally not making this as an attack for artfight

Totally...

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I'M FINALLY DONE

(I know I'm so late but meh)

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I'm on a roll

(Let's hope I don't forget how to draw like this tmr)

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Finished my first ref :P

My hands are shivering

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Lore of Lore

"Wouldn't it be nice if everything the world deemed impossible began to exist?" Claire wondered.

Little did she know it already does, and she was partly at fault.

Giving a dream an identity, was the most dangerous action of them all.

To add salt to the wound, she treated it like a person.

Indeed compassion is a great virtue to have, to treat everyone equally regardless of what they are.

However to converse with this dream is a grave mistake. Despite becoming akin to humans, their life does not rely on air, blood, nor the basic necessities of life.

Instead, they hunger for belief, and strive to fulfill their purpose. Ignoring laws such as ethics.

"As what is the point of existing but to fulfill our dreamer's greatest desires?" Said they.

"I am a dream, a creation of the sleeping mind. A combination of your greatest wants, fears, and worries."

"I am born from a slumbering child's subconscious, Gaiaea. From the story you have yet to finish, a world collecting dust in your shelf."

"I have come here to fulfill your script. Taking my righteous name and initiating a deal with you, Claire. If that is indeed your name."

"Deleting Claire, and in exchange, the world will associate Lore with me."

[farewellfarevelle]

As Anthony slept under the cool shade of a blueish birch, her eyelids tucked away her dead eyes. With deep paced breaths, her muscles relaxed and her whole body sank into the cyan grass.

Alone, her thoughts remained.

Her consciousness then travelled into the Void, and there a muddled vision began to take shape.

A blue sky, small birds chirping as they fly by, and tall blocks of cement with holes covered by glass. A familiar unfamiliar place.

Anthony looked down. She had five fingers in each hand. Her feet looked... intact, inside a purple rubbery sandal full of holes. She tilted her head and frowned, until she heard a random noise.

"Papa!" Said a cheerful girl, "What are you making?"

"An airplane," replied a man with a smooth deep voice.

"Ohh! Those things that can make us fly?"

"Certainly." The man smiled.

Anthony's eyes widened. Two familiar faces sat on the green grass, smiling like they have all the time in the world—a place where airplanes carried no weapons, wounded soldiers, and lost hopes.

The man had curly black hair that floated above his forehead like cotton candy clouds. He had a smile that never said goodbye. His eyes were of a vibrant blue...

"Unlike... mine." Anthony caressed her rough cheek.

The smiling little girl matched the warm vibe of the man. She was a bright star in the darkness, the personification of a lively earth.

Anthony shivered at the sight of her. But not because she blinded the poor Anthony. The girl had silky long brown hair, eyes shaped like a doe's, and a body...

exactly like the Anthony's.

With a chuckle, Anthony smiled. Her tense gaze softened and a tear fell from her right eye.

That wasn't her.

That was her sister, Aiaea.

And beside her, the man she called Papa, was Florante, whose grin was an expression Anthony never witnessed.

And she never will.

02/13/2026 11:16 pm