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Paint Brush

Paint Brush

“Imagine, if you will, a paint brush.”

“With just a dip of its head and a flick of your wrist a paint brush can be used to create colorful, beautiful worlds of extravagant rainbows and decadent pictures. Just take the brush, dip it in the paint, and go.”

“As time goes on, the paint brush will be stained with the colors it so dutifully absorbs, going from a once fresh and young face to one caked in a rainbow ink.”

“With every landscape it grows more ragged.”

“With every portrait it slowly begins to harden. It becomes impossible to clean, the paint that it once loved and clung to turning it into a shadow of its former self. The brush becomes, in a word, worthless.”

“And when a brush can no longer paint, what do you do with it?”

“You throw it away.”

“OSW is one gigantic canvas that has had many a painter over the years cover it in an assortment of colors and characters as far as the eye can see, dark though they may be. And, of course, those painters would be nothing without a reliable paint brush with which to cover the blanks.”

“Paint brushes like you, Vigour.”

“With your blindingly loud hair and ever optimistic outlook. You’re the newest brush come along to cover the world in a cacophony of brilliant hues and flashy colors, aren’t you?”

“You try so hard to be bright and inviting, every day you work with any artists you can get your hands on to brighten up this dark and dreary landscape.”

“Be they The Rainbow Party who use you to brighten up their own little corner of the canvas.”

“Or Goro Nakamura who you begged to grab your handle and use you to create a rainbow barrier to try and block off the ashen grays seeping up the canvas.”

“Don’t you get tired?”

“Hasn’t the paint stained your very soul, let alone your clothes and hair?”

“With every passing day you’re washed and reused, another coat of paint, another shot at creating a colorful world where everyone can enjoy the decadence of the drawings you helped bring to life.”

“But it’s wearing on you, isn’t it?”

“You’re hardening under the layers.”

“No brush stays clean forever, does it?”

“You see, OSW is indeed a canvas, and while many people are painting with brushes like you, I’m the one who shall paint the final portrait upon the easel.”

“Day in and day out I’ve used brushes like Darby Sorrow, Voynich, and The Skulls to decorate the canvas with my masterpiece. And, with each brush, I tossed them aside when they no longer served their purpose.”

“Vigour, I’ve not used you as a brush, but I can see from here that you’d be useless to use.”

“Your soul is hardened and stained, the colors fade behind your eyes.”

“When we enter the ring, I’m going to do the thing any sensible artist does.”

“And I’m going to throw you away.”

“I’ve walked this path before, I shall walk it once more.