I have sinned. Greatly.
I picked up a subject's fire arem a s mine was knocked from my hand and as I saw it.... a six shooter.
A.
SIX.
SHOOTER.
PISTOL.
I know, I know! An artist does not restrict himself to the tools he possesses and yet... I could not bring myself to it.
Love conquers all?
I've seen love of country burn it to the ground.
I've seen love of others lead to heartbreak so palpable, it made me smile so hard the corners of my mouth stabbed the ends of my eyes.
I've seen love load bullets into a gun.
I've seen love.
Yes, the usual public opinion of the unwashed masses assails me yet again.
The end of a life is art at its climax. The elderly and interred do not give such an uproarious one.
So you can see once again how you fail my criteria.
I'm not old that's rather offensive. Sure I may be older than most but for a vastayan I'm what humans would consider to be their late thirties early forties.
Zed without Shen is not enough to stop me, nor was his Master.
But knowing I have ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ tool against him is an ɪɴᴛᴏxɪᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ prospect.
However... You've a point. You are far too old and less than optimal to be material for my next piece. You do not meet my standard.
So that's how it goes. Alas I really have no time. You act strange and I merely comment on it. Have you learned of Vastayas? Not exactly one to be messed with. Especially I given my connections to the Shadow Order.
Oh.
So you think there aren't consequences?
You mock the artist but refuse to view the gallery? My tools? My Methods?
Madame....
I'm afraid that won't do.
Mothers are my favorite subject, you know.
So much to learn from a Mother....
Such of my best works come from them. The faces are unmatched. Unlike any other.