Sketch to Swoop

Stepping into the shop, I felt like I had just dived into a sea of colors. Canvases of varying sizes were stacked neatly against one wall. The opposite side was filled with a rainbow of paints. The scent of the shop was unfamiliar yet intoxicating. A unique blend of wood, natural dyes, and a third ingredient I couldn't put my finger on.

You see, back home, art supplies had a distinct synthetic aura to them, probably from all the chemicals they used to make them. Paints were acrylic, oil, or watercolor, all mass-produced and contained in neat little tubes. Brushes were standardized, each meticulously crafted to suit different techniques and effects. Canvas? Well, they were all primed and ready-to-paint, conveniently packed in plastic wraps. 

Here, things were different. They felt raw. Authentic. Organic. Paints were stored in small clay pots, each carefully labeled. I dipped my finger into cerulean blue, the texture grainy yet creamy. A stark contrast to the smooth acrylics I was used to.

Brushes were a collection of animal hair and feather quills. I picked one up, a thick bristle head that tapered to a fine point. The handle made of polished bone. It felt rough, unrefined, a far cry from the mass-produced brushes I knew.

The canvases were perhaps the most intriguing. They weren't your typical bleach-white, perfectly stretched rectangles. These were made from varied materials like stretched leather, thick parchment, woven fabric. Each had its unique texture and color, some even retaining the natural stains and imperfections of their origin. Every canvas had its own story, waiting to be amplified by art.

As I marveled at these artistic treasures, Putri turned to me. "Anything you like–oh." She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes wide as she realized my state of utter fascination. And yes, I was drooling a little. Even in another world, I couldn't resist making a fool of myself over art supplies. Old habits die hard, right?

"Alright, Putri, be honest," I gestured with the paintbrush in hand, "Would you choose this one, or the one with the peacock feather handle?"

Putri pondered for a moment, her brow furrowed in deep thought, before finally saying, "I think the one you're holding would be better, Nanang. It looks more sturdy and easier to handle."

Just as she finished, Pyu bounded over, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She was holding up a piece of parchment, beautifully illustrated with colorful patterns and swirls. "Nanang, Putri, look at this~pyu! Isn't this nice?"

Putri and I shared a glance before breaking into laughter. Pyu's constant enthusiasm was infectious. After a moment of hearty laughter, we resumed our task of choosing the best art supplies.

Just as I was about to reach for another paint pot, a hushed conversation from a few stalls down caught my attention. The voices belonged to two burly men, possibly travelers or merchants.

"...said it appeared just a few nights ago. A monstrous creature that lurks at night..." one of them was saying, his voice shaking slightly.

His companion grumbled in agreement, "Aye, heard the same thing from another traveler yesterday. Seems like it's been causing quite a ruckus."

The overheard conversation grazed my curiosity, but I shook off the chill. I wasn't about to trade my sketchpad for a sword just because of some traveler’s rumor. I glanced at Putri, her eyes reflecting a similar 'let's not dive into that rabbit hole' sentiment.

Pulling my attention back to the art supplies, I chuckled. A monster, eh? I had bigger challenges, like convincing Pyu that not all art needed a pixie dust–that thing that looks like a glitter back in my own world. These art debates, now that's where the real beast lay. So, with a grin and a lighter heart, I let the monster tales blur into the background. After all, I had colors to conquer, not creatures.

Turning back to Putri and Pyu, who were now in a friendly squabble over a pot of glittery paint, I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Alright, you two, settle down. We're supposed to be finding paints, not covering each other in it." I joked, trying to hide the unsettling feeling the overheard conversation had caused.

With the two of them arguing about whether or not to purchase the glitters, and the overheard conversation that continued to echo in my mind, I had this uneasy feeling that our world was about to get a lot more... colorful, in more ways than one.

As we left the shop, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows and bathing the cobblestone streets in a warm, golden glow. I could hardly contain my excitement, clutching the bag of new art supplies in my hands like a kid on Christmas morning. The inn wasn't far, and by the time we reached it, twilight was spreading her velvet cloak across the sky.

"Alright, Nanang, you've been like a squirrel with an acorn all the way back," Putri teased as we settled into our shared space at the inn. "Why don't you show us what you got?"

"Yes, yes! I want to see you paint~pyu!"

Gladly accepting their invitations, I pulled out my treasures one by one, laying them out on the table like a jeweler presenting his finest wares. The colors in their small clay pots were as vibrant as ever, even under the flickering candlelight. And the brushes... oh, the brushes were a sight to behold. Each one was as unique as the animal from which it came.

"I can't wait to try these out!" I said, barely able to keep the excitement from my voice. "I'm just going to do a small sketch first. Get the feel of the materials, you know?"

Putri nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with a similar enthusiasm. Pyu, too, with her tail twitching with anticipation. With a chorus of approval from my companions, I finally turned my attention to the real star of the evening – my new art supplies.

Settling down, I picked up one of the brushes—a fine badger hair one—and dipped it into the pot of cerulean blue. It soaked up the paint, the bristles darkening in color. With a deep breath, I laid down the first stroke on a piece of parchment.

It was... different. The brush felt raw against the rough texture of the parchment. The paint, instead of smoothly flowing out, clung onto the bristles before reluctantly transferring onto the paper. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. But as I continued to work, slowly adapting to the new medium, I felt an odd sense of connection. It felt as if I was truly creating, molding something out of nothing. It was raw, it was wild, it was... magical.

And then, to my utter astonishment, it really became magical. No kidding.

As I finished a sketch of a small bird, it suddenly fluttered off the parchment, flying a few circles in the air before landing back onto the table. I blinked. Twice. Putri gasped, and Pyu squealed with delight.

I reached out hesitantly, half-expecting my hand to pass right through it. But it didn't. The bird was solid, tangible, and... real.

"What in the..." I started, only to be cut off by my own incredulous laughter. I looked at Putri, whose mouth was agape in disbelief.

"Well, that's a new one, huh?" I managed to say between fits of laughter. "My drawings coming to life... talk about taking art to a new level!"

Putri chuckled, shaking her head in amazement. "Nanang, I think... I think you've just discovered your magic."

"My magic?" I echoed Putri's words, looking at the delicate creature bobbing around the table. It wasn't just a bird, but the manifestation of a whole new path for me. So, those childhood doodles finally paid off. A magic-wielding artist—definitely not the kind of career progression I had envisioned back at the airport. Talk about your career taking flight, right? Well, I must say, the new job title is growing on me.

I reached out, gently stroking the bird's feathery crest. It let out a small chirp, looking curiously at me with its tiny bead-like eyes. It was a strange sensation, my mind whirring. My art wasn't just ink and paper anymore. It was...alive. Quite literally.

The tiny bird fluttered around the room before landing on Pyu's outstretched hand. Her delighted giggle was like music to my ears. It was all too surreal, like a dream I was afraid to wake up from.

My gaze drifted to the other art supplies I had yet to try out, my mind buzzing with the potential of what I could create.

"But now I got another problem," I mumbled, "what should I draw for Orym's mural that won't, you know, cause chaos in the inn?"

Because certainly, the last thing we needed was a dragon taking up residence in the inn.