RWBY: Moon Reflection Chapter 2: Artistic Nature

The sun stread through the windows of the Xiao Long-Rose household, bathing the living room in warm light. Taiyang and Sumr entered with beaming smiles, each carrying a box wrapped in cheerful paper. Ruby and Yang imdiately perked up, their excitent palpable.

"We got you kids sothing special!" Tai said, placing the boxes on the table.

"What is it? What is it?" Ruby bounced on her toes, her silver eyes gleaming.

Sumr chuckled and opened one of the boxes, revealing an assortnt of colorful pencils and stacks of drawing paper. "We thought you'd all enjoy a chance to be creative. How about so drawing?"

Yang and Ruby let out excited squeals, grabbing the supplies eagerly. They dove into their drawings, giggling and playfully competing to see who could create the "best" picture.

"I'm going to draw a dragon!" Yang declared, her blonde hair bouncing as she worked furiously.

"I'll draw our family!" Ruby countered, her tiny hands clutching multiple pencils at once.

Amid the lively energy, Crimson sat quietly at the table, staring at the blank sheet of paper before him. The chatter and laughter around him felt distant as his crimson eyes focused on the unmarked canvas.

His mind drifted to mories from another ti, another life. In his past life, he had found solace in the quiet act of creating. Whether it was the delicate brushstrokes of calligraphy, wood carving or creating intricate patterns inspired by the moon and its surrounding, artistics pursuits had been a constant companion, even after his transformation into a demon so of it remained. Now, though, faced with a blank page, he felt paralyzed.

Sumr noticed his hesitation and approached him with a gentle smile, kneeling beside him. "What's wrong, Crimson? Why aren't you drawing with your sisters?"

He glanced at her, his voice soft. "I don't know what to draw."

Sumr tilted her head, her smile never wavering. "Hmm. Why don't you draw what you feel?"

"What I feel?" Crimson repeated, his gaze shifting back to the paper.

She nodded. "Drawing is about expressing yourself. It doesn't have to be perfect or make sense to anyone else. Just start and it will flow naturally."

He nodded slowly. Sumr gave his shoulder a comforting pat before returning to Ruby and Yang, who were now arguing over which shade of yellow was "the best yellow."

Crimson's thoughts wandered once more, drifting further into his past life. He had spent countless nights drawing inspiration from the moon. Its serene beauty, casting silver light over the world, had always captivated him. Even as a demon, the moon had remained a source of quiet comfort and inspiration — a reminder of who he is as a human or a demon.

The broken moon of this world felt alien to him, fragnted and imperfect. Perhaps he could draw the moon as he rembered it: whole, luminous, and unbroken.

Before he could begin, Ruby's excited voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Crimson! Look at this!" Ruby exclaid, holding up her drawing. It was a crude depiction of their ho, with stick figures representing their family. Despite its simplicity, Ruby's pride was undeniable.

Crimson couldn't help but chuckle softly. "That's… great, Ruby."

"You think so?" she asked eagerly.

"I do," he replied, his tone sincere. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he realized he had been overthinking the act of drawing.

Taking a deep breath, Crimson picked up a few pencils and began sketching. At first, his movents were tentative, but soon, his confidence grew. His mind shifted to the present, his strokes capturing the simple joys of the mont.

Nearly half an hour passed before he set down his pencil. Yang and Ruby, having finished their own drawings, wandered over to see his. Their reactions were imdiate.

"Whoa!" Yang exclaid, her violet eyes wide. "You drew us?"

The drawing depicted Ruby and Yang as they were monts ago, deeply engrossed in their work. While not professional, the level of detail was remarkable for a child his age. The sisters' expressions, the scattered pencils, and even the slight smudges on their faces were captured with surprising accuracy.

"Mom! Dad! Look at this!" Ruby yelled, grabbing the drawing and running to their parents.

Tai and Sumr were equally amazed.

"Did you really draw this, Crimson?" Tai asked, his tone filled with amazent.

Crimson nodded to him, feeling a bit of amusent seeing their reaction.

"This is incredible," Sumr said softly, her voice warm. "You have a real gift."

Crimson felt a small spark of joy at their words but didn't dwell on it for long.

__________________________

The day wound down, and the house grew quiet as the family settled in for the night. Crimson, however, found himself restless. Sleep eluded him, so he slipped outside and sat on the porch, his gaze fixed on the fragnted moon hanging in the night sky. Its jagged edges seed almost mocking, a constant reminder of a world both familiar and foreign.

The soft sound of footsteps broke the stillness. Sumr stepped outside "Why are you sitting out here?" she asked gently, taking a seat beside him.

Crimson answered "Just thinking." his eyes never leaving the moon.

She followed his gaze upward. "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

Crimson hesitated, his brows furrowing. "I suppose… but why is it so fragnted?"

Sumr tilted her head, considering his question. "No one really knows. It's always been like that," she replied, though her words offered him no solace.

He let out a quiet sigh, his voice tinged with lancholy. "It feels strange… like sothing that was once whole but isn't anymore."

Sumr glanced at him, her expression softening. There was sothing deeper in his words, an unspoken weight she could sense but not fully understand. "Even things that are broken can still be beautiful," she said gently, her tone reassuring.

Crimson remained quiet for a mont before responding. "It's a pity, though. It is beautiful as it is… but don't you think it would be even more so if it were whole?"

Sumr paused, thoughtful. "Maybe. But we can't know that for sure. Perhaps this is the best sight of the moon, the one we're ant to see."

[But I know] Crimson thought to himself. His mind drifted to his past life, to nights spent under a sky adorned with a radiant, unbroken moon. This world's fractured celestial body felt like an echo of his own fragnted existence.

Sumr reached out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You can think about the moon tomorrow. For now, you should go to sleep."

Crimson nodded reluctantly, rising to his feet. "Goodnight," he murmured before heading back inside. Yet, even as he lay in bed, his thoughts refused to settle. The broken moon lood in his mind, its jagged shape a haunting symbol of the chasm between his past and present.

He wondered if, one day, he might forget his past life completely, as he had once forgotten his humanity. The notion unsettled him deeply. The moon—whole and unmarred—had always been part of who he was. Its absence, its broken form, felt like a wound that would never heal.

The next morning, as the family stirred awake, they found a new drawing left on the table. It was remarkably detailed, far surpassing anything they had seen from Crimson before. The paper depicted a night sky dominated by a brilliant, full moon glowing in all its glory. The artistry was stunning, every line and shade ticulously crafted.

Ruby tilted her head as she examined it. "It's pretty," she said, though her voice was filled with confusion. "But… What is it? I have never seen it before"

"Neither have I, But it looks like the moon" Yang added, her violet eyes sparkling as she studied the image. "Where did this co from?"

Sumr and Tai exchanged puzzled glances, equally unsure. "Did Crimson draw this?" Tai asked, though he already knew the answer.

None of them could grasp the significance of the picture, having never known a full moon in their world. But to Crimson, it didn't matter. The drawing wasn't for them—it was for him.

As the family admired the mysterious artwork, Crimson sat silently at the edge of the room, his gaze distant. The image of the full moon was a tether to his identity, a reminder of what he once was and what he could never let go.

The broken moon might define this world, but it would never define him.