Okay it's done. I was like "Fuck it" with the background, so I turned it black. I'll fix it later, when I'm not feeling so lazy. Thanks Shults for helping me with the fire.

phew! am I glad to say "I am done!!!"

well i am pretty happy how it turned out..finally done.

Requiem/Lacrymosa

.a voice of many colors.

SEE THIS FIRST - http://2draw.net/view/105056/
This is a companion piece and story to that one.

The crowds cheer, a head rolls, as yet another perpetrator of the law is exterminated. No, not exterminated... executed. Day in & day out, he slaves away in his pastry shop. The masses scurrying to the town square to bare witness to the morning executions to be had. Men, women, and even children, all banding together in unison to wave their fists into the air & cheer as the vermin are dispatched. He doesn't get to see much of it though... Before the crack of dawn's light, Pietre has to be heating the ovens, making the dough, organizing fillings and preparing confections for his days' work.

Running in and out of the back room, where the blasts of heat forge sugary baked cookies & treats, stocking his pastry shop throughout the day, Pietre is oddly feared and the locals seem to be wary of his deliciously displayed foods. It's not that they're not edible, not by any means. In fact, he's quite good at what he does. He's won prizes and has gotten recognition throughout the kingdom for his craft. No, it was the way in which he decorated his cakes & pastries. A gorey gourmet of deadly but delicious, tasty but terrible, hunger-enticing but horrible decorative designs of gelatinous disembowelments (with sprinkles of course), baked beheadings, fragrant crimson fluids (usually of a cherry or strawberry variety), morbidly arranged marshmallows, and chocolate dipped gingermen, sometimes with bits missing and often with big helpings of coconut shavings strewn about them. Or what about the lil figures made of yummy licorice, stretched over a rack made of graham crackers? And muffins that were shaped to appear like heads in a basket? Though, admittedly, the tart cherry/ raspberry/ strawberry preserve filling in these was particularly nice! Regardless of how irresistible his morbidly mouthwatering creations were to the sense of smell & taste... to the eyes, they were simply atrocious!

Oh sure, it was one thing to go to the town square and watch Edmund the Executioner at work, that was just fine! But to eat delicious baked goods & pastries that even mildly resembled the same... that was disturbing and despicable? What an insult! What an outrage! As a matter of fact, he was so good at the art he created & shared via his bakery, that if more folks were willing to give these deadly looking desserts a try, they would more than likely become hooked and surely come back for more! And then, at the very least, he would be able to take consolation in seeing his creations being appreciated by every sweet toothed clientelle, from near & far, critic & connoisseur alike!

But no, each time the crowds' hollering and rooting echoed through the town's streets, he was awfully reminded that the appreciation was being spent elsewhere. Somewhere he should have been performing instead!

The thing is... Pietre the Pastry maker actually wanted to be an executioner. To experience the dealing out of death and justice with a sharpened weapon, to master the nuances to a clean kill, the singing duet between Executioner & axe as swift swipes sever limbs and heads with surgical coordination; as a roaring crowd roots you on... That is where he was meant to be, not stuck behind a counter making pastries and cakes far from the action! But alas, poor Pietre, here he was, limited to expressing his fantasy career and true vocation through his kitchen craft.

So, as the days pass, and the excited cheers of approval at the murderous spectacle boom from the execution grounds, Pietre resentfully continues his work, muttering under his breath how Edmund is so lucky to have his spot as Executioner of these parts.

But every now and then, at the end of the day when he's wrapped up his shop for the evening, he steps outside onto the cobblestone path, and wistfully takes a look down the road, towards the execution grounds - wielding his crimson spattered spatula, inhaling deeply & closing his eyes.

With a sigh, he takes in the inspiration for the terribly tempting treats that will be created for tomorrow's day, to repeat the routine again.

And this is the story of Pietre the Pastry Maker.