It had been 3 days now since things had gone south with Muse Leira—she wanted Lala Drona out, out of that room as soon as possible. Never had she ever met an artist so enveloped by her own work, so committed to her own style and message, an artist with vision alright…with tunnel vision.
Muse Leira tried, time and time again, to inspire Lala Drona to continue her and Colonel Morgado’s work with battle strategies. She tried to influence Lala to wage art war on the Art Guild: the legislation which passed all art-related laws. When that didn’t work, She tried to influence the artist to strategise against those who did not believe in art. She tried to convince Lala of the destructive force that she possessed when she put paintbrush to canvas. Muse Leira’s work with Colonel Morgado had been left unfinished, and she wanted Lala, more than any other artist to have entered that room before, to implement the battle strategies that Leira and the Colonel had started, into her paintings.
Lala Drona refused to accept the muse’s battle inspiration, and arrogantly explained to Muse Leira how this creative collaboration would unfold. Lala had already decided on a concept, and merely needed the muse to help her develop the images for it. The concept for the triptych of paintings would examine the development of online relationships/friendships, from the digital to the real. It would unfold over three parts on three canvases:
Canvas 1: “We Find Our Match in the Digital Masses”
Canvas 2: “We Give Each Other Space to Grow”
Canvas 3: “Together, We Make Each Other Human”
“Together we make each other human? What’s so great about being human anyway?” Leira said.
Lala explained. “I meant for “human” to be taken metaphorically…like coming together in real life is what helps us maintain our humanity— or our compassion—empathy…”
“You are insinuating that “humanity” only expresses a compassionate side—while today more than ever we are witnessing humanity’s “inhumanity”. Not to mention, that idea is corny. It would be a disservice to the entire triptych. I’ll sign off on the first two ideas, but the third has got to go.”
Lala laughed, “I don’t think you really understand your role here.”
“Role? You will suffer if you chose to stay in this room and not implement my inspiration.”
Lala scoffed and ignored the muse. She threw herself into the work, but her ideas did not flow; she felt creatively blocked. Sketching the third idea was like trying to manoeuvre a paintbrush with her toes. The images would not translate onto paper. But Lala kept drawing, too committed to her method.
Through the night, Lala persisted with her work but not without rebellion from Muse Leira. Over the next few nights, Leira appeared to the dog outside Lala’s room. At first, the barking only distracted Lala slightly, as she told herself that she would get used to it, just as she got used to the other sounds of the town.
Hours upon hours, the dog barked outside of her window, a rhythmic barking that ricocheted off the walls of the colonel’s room—every burst of canine scream was a wack over Lala’s ears. Muse Leira appeared over Lala as she drew, willing her own inspiration into the artist’s mind. The more Lala resisted, the more Leira’s inspiration would change shape and become stronger. With every wave of inspiration, Lala’s drawing began to warp and transform as well, into circles and lines, a battle strategy that she could not decipher.
The church bells clanged, the roosters cooed and every dog in that town barked simultaneously in the same rhythmic pattern. Lala covered her ears and screamed as an image of Muse Leira and Colonel Morgado emerged from a white fog with their troops behind them. Flashes of bloodshed, of flesh in the air, a mix or white and red coalesced into a pink cloud. They marched on through the pink fog…then, as quickly as it came, the image went dark again. A new image came into Lala’s mind. The artist, followed by her drones and muses, sitting atop a globe, sitting atop with someone she had never met before…working together towards a common goal.
Lala began drawing the new image, and as she drew, the cacophony outside dulled; it subsided. Muse Leira appeared at her side with a hesitant smile. Lala finished the drawing, but just as her pencil left the paper, the noise started up again.
Lala covered her ears and Muse Leira peered closer at the new concept for the third painting. She read the title below:
Canvas 3: “Together, We Conquer the World.”
Muse Leira couldn’t have been happier with the results of their collaboration—she thought of Colonel Morgado, their late nights together planning their battle strategies, side by side like in Lala’s drawing. Before the Colonel’s death, Muse Leira thought that they would one day conquer the world, and now through Lala Drona’s piece, in some way, they had.
Muse Leira looked up from the sketch, and found Lala packing her bags. The barking had stopped outside, but continued to pulsate through Lala’s mind.
“The barking in my head won’t stop.” Lala said. Lala held her head and threw her backpack over her shoulder. She smiled. “And I think our work here is done.” She approached Muse Leira, who was standing in front of the door of the room. Lala stood there, canvases under her arms, and looking Leira up and down. She took a deep breath and then hugged her. “Thank you, Leira…for everything— I know I’m not easy to work with, and my inspiration extraction techniques are unconventional, but I knew you could do it all along.” Lala patted Leira on the shoulder. “Well done.” Lala sighed, pushed through the doorway, and ventured into the night.
Based On A Fact 
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