Dramione Artwork Novels & Stories

It's a mistake I won't make again. I open the door for Aspen and am met with surprise when I follow her in. The space is wide open and bright, unlike what I was expecting. Digital drawings and paintings hang from the exposed brick walls and the light grey wall partitions they've erected. People in dress similar to our own mill about the space. Aspen is taken in by the diverse art. Each framed piece features a landscape or character from the Dragons Reborn game, but each is redone in miraculous detail. Even I have to admit the artist has a raw talent.

The first time I saw Damien cry, it was over a paper crane. We were in the sun-room of the penthouse, the one I’d quietly claimed as my studio. Morning light pooled through floor-to-ceiling windows, painting everything gold. I’d pushed the furniture aside so I could spread a ten-foot canvas on the parquet. The painting was almost finished: a riot of indigo and violet wings, a cocoon splitting open, a small figure stepping out. My mother’s butterfly, reborn.

he replied. As they entered the gallery, they were greeted by the sight of several beautiful sculptures. Diana led Damon towards a particularly intricate one. "This is a sculpture of a mermaid, Damon. It's made of bronze and has intricate details on its tail," she explained, guiding Damon's hands to feel the sculpture. Damon ran his hands over the sculpture, marveling at the intricate details. "It's beautiful, Diana. I can feel the scales and the curves of the tail," he said, a sense of wonder in his voice.

Following the maid, Damon walked through the grand hall and down a long corridor to the door of Ross' study. The maid knocked, then pushed the door open at Ross' signal. "Mr. Sumner, please go in," the maid said, stepping aside. "Thank you," Damon replied before entering. The maid quietly closed the door and remained outside. Ross was painting when Damon walked in. He glanced up and smiled. "Come take a look at this painting. What do you think?" Damon stepped closer, his gaze falling on the artwork spread across the table. It was a landscape—not terrible, but clearly the work of an amateur. At best, it was mediocre.

Drake was adamant about preserving the authenticity of the painting as well as its beautiful shape, and he was not afraid to shell out a significant amount of money to do so. The character painted on that picture is of course not anyone else, but that is Kyra, the only woman that Drake painted and displayed in the room. The natural landscape is rich with the verdant green of the grass, the iridescent green of the lake water, and the vibrant colors of the flowers that are strewn across the grass. The sunlight from up above shines down on the landscape below, and the overall effect is to make everything look more beautiful and harmonious. The image of Kyra basking in the sun takes up the major

Silence was when the most interesting things happened. The abandoned wing welcomed me with a sigh of stale air and dust. No torches burned here. No guards patrolled. Moonlight streamed through broken panes of stained glass, painting the floor in fractured blues and reds. I paused at the first mural. Dragons. Not the twisted, fire-breathing monsters from the Purge stories, but creatures of impossible grace—their wings spread wide enough to eclipse suns, their claws curled gently around mountain peaks. One coiled protectively around a wolf pup, its massive head bent low as if whispering secrets.

We spent nights debating art theories and studying the trickiest brushstrokes. "Congratulations, Scarlett. You did it." Levi handed me a glass of champagne and smiled warmly. I took the glass over and clinked it lightly against his before looking up at my painting, a massive oil canvas named "Unbound". On the canvas, a phoenix tore free from iron shackles as its wings of flame cut through the darkness and soared toward freedom. "Ms. Emberlyn's work is extraordinary, Mr. Archer," a renowned critic murmured with genuine awe. With a gentle smile on his lips, Levi turned to me with unconcealed pride and admiration shining in his eyes.

Five Years Later The morning light filtered through the gauze curtains of the small art studio, casting dancing shadows across canvases propped against weathered easels. Leo Moretti stood before a half-finished painting, his brush poised in mid-air, studying the interplay of amber and gold that swirled across the canvas like captured sunlight. His hands, once smooth and manicured for Dominic's galas, now bore the honest calluses of creative work and the faint, silvered scars from that final night when purple fire had consumed everything.

Her mind quieted. “Wow.” The word came from behind her. She startled, nearly knocking over a jar of water as she turned abruptly. Damon stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the canvas. “You have a habit of startling me,” she said, laughing softly as she stood and wiped her paint-streaked fingers on her apron. “This is beautiful,” he said, his gaze lingering on the artwork. Then his brow furrowed slightly. “But… why doesn’t she have a face?” He glanced at Lena.

She walked closer to Vivian and collected it. “Can I see it, or I’m not allowed?” Luna asked with smiles on her face. “Off course, open it” Vivian replied. Luna tore the brown wrapper used to wrapped it a bit, and pulled the frame out. “Oh! WOW!” Luna showed an explanation as she saw that it was an artwork of Princess. Vivian requested for Princess’ pictures and Luna sent them. It was one of the pictures where Princess’ put lollipop in her mouth. The artwork was like the picture. Even it was more beautiful and clears than picture.