Courage's Beast [editted]

Added a few layers and texturing.

Stock:
=Lockstock
~Morgiana
*CausticStock
DA
My Own

Portrait: Aldon

This is Jolene's Christmas present. :) I drew this over the Thanksgiving break, because I wanted a head start on everything. Katherine was actually the inspiration: For my birthday she had draw for small pictures playing off of POMT and I loved it so much I wanted to do something like it for someone else. So. This is my interpretation of Aldon. A million years ago I had found a picture on sxc that reminded me of him, and I emailed it to Jolene. That's what I based this off of.

Special thanks to: Laura, for her immediate and candid advise in what has wrong or right, my mom, for her constant help through the whole thing, and my grandma, for her encouragement to not be afraid of shading. So basically: all the artists in my family.

(it looks a little weird in this scan. Just imagine it's perfect)

The model.

Writer's Block

Was bored and couldn't write.

Model: Jolene
Picture&Editting: Me

Sea&Mist

I was feeling lazy but I wanted to do something with fonts and brushes, so I made this.

The character is Mist, and she is engaged to Mereith (Mereith = guardian of the sea), a sailor who has just mantained the rank to get married (captain). He goes on his first trip in his new ship, and she has high hopes because on his return they are finally going to be married. He promises to make it back in nine days, but the days drag on to two weeks and he has not returned. Debris starts washing up on the beach, and from it they think Mereith's ship was attacked and sunk. This is Mist at that time.

Stock:
~Ghost_addicted
DA

Choices; Stay or Run

Another one for Phil.

Stock:
=resurege
[other]

Background:
Sometimes he thinks he is crazy.

He is not sure when he began to think that; perhaps when the school-children started teasing him, perhaps when he saw the book torn apart. He doesn’t suppose it really matters when it happened.

Sometimes he wonders why he had to get into the tangled mess of his feelings. Sometimes he wishes for things he knows are impossible, and he is critical of himself and knows just how impossible the wishes are. He knows why he was sent away from his father, or he thinks he knows, and he guesses that is were it began to happen. When he did not think that his voice was something to be ashamed of, or something in the way, he talked a lot. But now his voice is the weight pulling him down, and he does not want to talk because he does not want to hear it.

He has many thoughts, very, very many, but he does not think anyone else would like to hear them in his voice, and he does not want to watch his audience try to understand and pretend to know what he is saying. His voice murders his words, and he supposes he can keep them in to treasure on his own. Perhaps that was when it happened.

His uncle always said he was not his father, and he knows this, but when he was small it was his uncle’s lap he sat in, and it was his uncle’s hands which steadied his learning hands, and his uncle’s voice that read him to sleep, and his uncle’s horse that he rode. Sometimes, when he was very little and silly, he would pretend his uncle really was his father, and he would make up exciting stories about what had happened to his mother and why his uncle claimed to have a brother which sent him away years ago. His father is just a man somewhere in the world, just a name that he thinks will never have a face. So it does not matter that he pretends the impossible.

There was always the book, though, and when he reads the book he can see his mother’s hands and hear his father’s laugh. And then he feels lost and longs for something he does not understand.

Then his mother has another son—so his uncle tells him—and he does not know what to feel, so he puts the son with the faceless names and tells himself he does not have to think about it, because he will never have to deal with a brother. But his mother dies and his uncle says they must go help his father. He is nervous, but he thinks it may be alright to put faces to the names.

They take the books and don’t give him back the one his father and mother made him. They tear it up in front of him, and he looses his father’s laugh and his mother’s hands. He does not care much for the laugh—he knows he will hear it again someday—but the hands were all he knew of his mother, and he is angry. His voice kills the protests shouting inside of him, and he knows no one can understand. His uncle says he must calm down, and he swallows the words again. They walk, and he tries not to cry—he does not understand why his vision keeps blurring. He never knew his mother, so why should he miss her?
In the end all he feels is cold, hard anger. And the next day, after the boys fight him for no reason, he knows the anger is hatred. He is afraid of it, but he uses it to hide from other, stranger feelings. He finds his sister in the fields weeks later, after endless walking and riding, and she is kind to him. She shows him his brother, and all he can think is that he does not stutter, and he does not look like a foreigner to these people, and he does not have to be sent away. And he thinks he does not like him, might even be jealous of him, because he does not know what it’s like to be given a new family and to stutter and everyone, even his uncle, loves him. He wonders why he came at all; his father has a son that will remind him of his mother, and no one wants a useless son who cannot talk.

He finds out that his father was a slave trader, and he feels betrayed. He does not want to see him—he just wants to go home and leave the names faceless. It is his uncle who holds him as he cries—he doesn’t know why—and he wishes a thousand times that he did not have any other father than his uncle, that he did not have to be the son of a trader and he did not have to care about how that felt.

He meets his father, and he does not know how to act, and he does not like looking at his scarred face, and he does not like his expression when his brother is with them. It is a long time before they are going back to his country, and he does not know how to feel when he sits next to his little sister in the cart, and he sees how she looks at him and he feels like a stranger. The farm is familiar when they get home, and he is glad for a time, because he knows how to act on the farm, and he does not have to watch his brother be adored by everyone all the time, and he does not have to feel his little sister’s big-eyed staring, and he does not have to talk to his father with knotted words.

His uncle is still his confider, and he still looks to him more than his father. Then she comes. He likes her at first–she is kind to him, and gentle, and jokes. But soon he begins to notice the way his uncle watches her, and the way he talks to her, or helps her. He begins to suspect, and in suspecting he fears–he does not know why.

Loneliness is something he must have always felt, created by his voice and his own lack of effort. But normally his uncle helps him forget, or he buries himself in work to not have to think about it. Somehow it got worse with his family’s arrival. Now he watches his uncle go with her, and he is angry at himself for feeling lost and alone. Once his uncle said he was too stubborn and pushed himself too hard, and he supposes this is true, because he refuses to show them any of the confused feelings, and he refuses to let himself think about them.

He cannot put the thoughts into words when his uncle asks (long after he has been seeing her, as if he was just an afterthought), and even those that he sorts out to himself he will not mutilate with his voice. He watches his uncle leave, and is empty. But he can not blame him.

No one wants a son who can’t talk, not even a pretend son.

So he is crazy, because he wants the impossible, and when he cannot have it he feels emotions he cannot make out.

Childish Dreams

The flower girls watching the bride.

Morning Comes

I was making ETOLT icons, and needed a Kala. I didn't like the background for this picture, so I set out to look for another background. I ended up searching sxc and this came out. I am very, very proud of it at the moment. Enjoy!

Kala is Jrohest's daughter. I imagine this to be at a time right after she has killed Likan, with Aneirin as they head back to Isrian.

Stock:
sxc
~THT-stock
=resurgere

Innocence Has Blue Eyes

I was trying out a new trick and this came out.

Stock:
=resugere
~Tragicstock

Christmas Letter Header

Made this for our Christmas letter.

Stock:
DA

Courage's Beast {2}

Second version.

Stock:
=Lockstock
~Morgiana
*CausticStock
DA
My Own

Courage's Beast

I was sitting around today and felt compelled to make this.

Courage's Beast is my Beauty & The Beast twist. I'm not sure if I like this blue one more or less than the yellow, so I'm submitting both. Comments welcome. If I find a Cedrin I'll add him in.

Stock:
=Lockstock
~Morgiana
*CausticStock
DA
My Own

Night

This isn't really like my sort of art, but when doing a photo shoot in my aunt's ballgown (now mine! mwahaha) this came out. I was actually just looking up and Laura snapped a picture, not posing for some dark depressing thing. Anyway. I liked the shadows and such so I decided to post it. Enjoy!

Psalm 31:7

I have always loved this verse, so I made a header.

Brushes:
DA (mostly *fence-post)
Rhysin.Graphics

Tree of Flame

Found a cool leaf today. A little editting and this came out.

Madness

The picture for my Gillard ficlet.

Stock:
*Cobweb-stock
Rhysin.Graphics
=Lockstock
My Own

Elves Don't Mess Around

Laura. Smugged.

Winter

Liv Tyler as Liagiba.

Texture:
sxc

Brushes:
My own
-Lockstock
Rhysin Graphics

Perfect

Got this necklace at a store a while ago... It reminded me of something in a RP. And I thought it would go well with my purple dress.

A Blank

"What's her story?"
"A blank, my lord."
-Twelfth Night

Thoughts Like Leaves

Numerous
Fleeting

Hope With Morning

I don't really know what this is. I just got carried away with brushes. :)

Stock:
Brushes: Rhysin Graphics
Model: Me again

Hide & Seek

Not just a game anymore.

Stock:
Texture: ~Autumn's Goddess
Model: Me

One Heart

"I have but one heart..."
-Twelfth Night

I'm not sure how much I like this. But it is interesting enough, and high time I got some more photography up on here.

Photo: Laura
Model: Loverly me

Caliet & Will

Yes, I changed the name, Jolene.

This was undoubtedly the hardest colloge I've ever made. My problems/advancements from left to right: Caliet was actually wearing a black sleeve-less shirt with a bright red skirt. First I changed the skirt's color, then the shirt's (to a more red-black). I added a slight trim to the shirt so you can tell the difference between it and the skirt. Then I turned to her sleeve-less arm and started racking my brain about what to do. I figured out that I couldn't just change her arm's color and then smug it all into a sleeve, because it wouldn't have the texture and shading of a sleeve. So I went through all of my Arwen pictures until I found one big enough and in the right position...sort of. I cut off a lot of the sleeve to give it a more colonialish look. Then I had to fit it right. Really nothing else until Will on the other side gave me HUGE problems. Will's deal is that his hair is long in the book, and this guy had short hair. So I had to paint him hair. I think it turned out well, though.

Now, I know what you are thinking: Who on earth are these people? Well, they are members of the character troop in a story Abigail and I are RPing for fun (we don't plan to actually write it out like ETOLT). Caliet is the daughter of a baker. She has a crush on his fellow Kiel, a wanderer (a looked-down-upon class of homeless, jobless people), who we later find out is Kila, a girl desguised as a guy. Meanwhile Will's been watching her for a while, ignored mostly because she is constantly busy taking care of her family while her mother jumps from their house to their aunt's (who is sick) and her father tries to earn a living. Caliet's family is something like Christian, and have their doors open to any wanderers who need help, despite the fact that her father struggles to earn enough just to feed his household. Though most of the townspeople think this is odd, Will still makes himself open to help or talk to Caliet if she ever asks. Once her short-lived crush on "Kiel" is tossed out the window, she becomes more open to Will in turn.

Enjoy this wallpaper!

Stock:
Textures - Autumnsgoddess and =resurgere
Caliet - Nekoha-stock [1, 2, 3]
Little Will - Someone on DA
Will - sxc [origanal]

For Isrian

The old For Isrian picture has been driving me nuts for a while, so I set out to make a new one. At first I was just going to make a manip thing with all the characters, but I changed my mind and remembered this picture from when I was looking for an Abramm crown. Unfortunately, the middle of the crown had cheesy-big flowers on it, so I had to smudge that out. Which lead to smudging everything else. Don't know how long this one'll last. ;)

Stock:
sxc

Hate

Yet another picture inspired by the RP between me and Abigail. The reason that's my current theme is because her birthday is today and all these are minor presents. ;)

Description of the Scene: This is Phil, named after my brother, Philip. His father is from Alore, but fell in love with a girl in Tesrin, determining to join her there and marry her. Tesrin does not take kindly to foriegners, which eventually pushes his father to a dishonest trade. Phil is the second born. When Phil was five, his parents discovered that he had a horrible stutter. Fearing for him, as the children would tease him relentlessly, they sent him to his uncle in Alore, where he grew up. His father's job leads to his wife's death and his near-exicution (chance made it that he did not die and was able to recover while in the records he is dead). New reaches Phil and his uncle of the turn of events, and they leave to see if they can help. Phil packs a book his mother and father had made him when he was little, to teach him to read. In crossing the boarder, a Tesrin guard announces that their passport does not allow them to take books. His uncle manages to save all the books with them but Phil's book, which is torn, broken and throw in a scrap pile to be burned. Afterwards, with a horrible stutter, Phil declares that he hates them.

Description of the Picture: I really really wanted to use a color picture, because a trait of Alorians is their almost-black-blue eyes. But the picture I finally decided to use was in black and white, so I had to colorize it. The color of his eyes is the real color, though. Over all I'm fairly happy.

Stock:
http://reborn-stck.deviantart.com/
http://www.rhysin.net/

Nothing or Something?

-"You still smile the same way," he said absently. As soon as he heard the words he felt a blush creeping across his ears. What the plague caused you to say that, dimwit!
She looked at him, seeming mildly surprised, roused from her own thoughts. Maybe she hadn't caught what he'd said. "What?"
He turned back to the fire, letting a half ironic smile play at his lips. All evening she had acted strange, claiming it was nothing. Now it was his turn. "Nothing," he said pertly.
"Now it's your turn for nothing." She smiled faintly. "Is this a real nothing?"
"Only if yours is," he said simply.
"Then?"
"Well, if your nothing is nothing mine is to. If your nothing is something then mine could be considered that too. So really is doesn't matter because I think your nothing might be something and you refuse to give specifics, and you suspect my nothing to be something but I'm not telling you. "-

I liked this little speech, so I made it into a letter-thing. Heh. Obviously it's Tiran and Kila. Enjoy.

Stock:
http://autumnsgoddess-stox.deviantart.com/

Sea

Calling

The title's playing off Siarl and Elves' longing.

Strut

Saw this bird on the beach.

Do You Believe In Me?

I can't believe in myself.

I saw the center picture on sxc one day and the title (Do You Believe In Me?) and thought of the RP character I act out in the new RP with Abigail. He starts as a shepherd who can't remember his childhood, then when he is captured by slave-traders they find out by a mark on his chest that he is the prince and heir to the throne. He escapes with the help of a wanderer, Kiel, who he later find out was an old friend of his when he was little, and that "Kiel" is actually Kila, or Elizabeth. He starts to train himself so he can take up his heirship without making a fool of himself, but his time is cut short when he is captured by a treasure-hunter looking to turn him in for the huge reward over his head. "Kiel" finds and rescues him again, and when he's just let out a sigh of relief he finds out one of his older sisters is getting married within two weeks to a lord Kiel is determined is corrupt. He has to face himself, and decides he has no choice but to go to the capitol whether or not he is prepared.

The puppy on the left is Hunter, his new dog after his old one was killed by the slave-traders. The man above the puppy is Nashar, the corrupt lord. Above that is a wolf (I suppose it has something to do with Tiran's shepherd life, it somehow just found its way into the manip), and to the right are stars. Tiran had a talk with his boss, Mr. Wels, about the stars one night after he found out who he was, in which Mr. Wels encouraged him to look to the Only One, and Tiran shrugged it off. Below that is, obviously, Tiran, and some book (Mr. Wels teaches him to read). Beside that is Kila. I am rather proud of her because I had to paint her shirt and the cloak is another layer. Above her is herself, younger, probably from one of Tiran's memories. The N that's faded out is... complicated. Let's just say Tiran has it branded on his arm.

This isn't my best creation, but I'm liking it.

Stock:
Wolf - someone on DA
Tiran, Nashar, Hunter, book, young Kila - sxc
Kila - Morgiana
Stars - Google I think

Liagiba

This is a header for Jrohest's blog, which will be appearing there soon. ;) Again, the Switchfoot quote.

Let it Go

Let it go
This fallen world
Doesn't hold your interest
Doesn't hold your soul
Let it go
~Daisy, Switchfoot

Jrohest's version. She's cold, but breakable. Beautiful but lost.

Stock:
Texture - ~Autumnsgoddess
Liagiba - Liv Tyler
Brushes - Rhysin.Graphics

Love?

This is Liagiba. Or rather, Liagiba's POV on herself, you could say. One of two which I will be showing.

Stock:
Texture - ~Autumnsgoddess
Liagiba - Liv Tyler
Brushes - Rhysin.Graphics

False Escape

Gasping and wheeze-moaning, he turned back. The opening was gone.

-Karen Hancock, The Light of Eidon

This is Abramm with Shettai in the false tunnel. I've been wanting to do something with Abramm forever... hopefully with *Cobweb-stock. I couldn't figure out what to do with him, though, and while stumbling through some pictures found this forgotten one. I grabbed it immediately and made this.

While in a fight with a veren (a ringwraith, bird-like thing), Abramm for a moment looked helpless against it in front of Shettai, his, erm, beloved. She threw herself in front of him, and in it recieved a mortal wound which she died from about five to ten minutes later. Abramm and Trap were still being attacked, and having no better hope they ran for a false tunnel they had been warned not to enter. Abramm brought Shettai's body. This is him grieving in the cave. The two ghosts/memories are Shettai. The light to the left is from Trap, using the Light to cleanse himself from the veren blood.

This completes the package of fan art I'm sending to Karen Hancock, hopefully today. :)

Stock:

Shettai: http://dove-stock.deviantart.com/

Abramm and Shettai: Someone on DA

Cave: Sxc

Brushes: Rhysin.Graphics

Texture: =Resurgere

I Love My Love

I love my love
Because I know my love
Loves me
-I Love My Love, a Colonial ballad

My new bonnet from the General Store. *huggles* On our hammock... Hey, there were hammocks in Colonial days! On ships, at least...

What Am I?

Who am I? What am I?

Photographer, Laura. The focus is on my new "Waenx" sword. Not sure if I like it like that yet... The light from the sun over my eye was killing me.

Caught

--"Rebbecca!"
She turned, startled by her father's voice. Quickly she hid the tri-corner hat behind her back, fearing he would see it and guess her intent. He would never let her join the revolution, not after John and Nathan where already taken.
His grey eyes looked her up and down. They snagged on something by her waste, and when she glanced at it she found a corner of the hat was exposed to his interrogation. Her eyes flew to his. "It's not what you think!" she cried as he marched toward her.
Snatching the hat, he snapped, "They will not have you."--

Idea, me. Photographer, Laura. New skirt and bounce, birthday. The vest is Laura's.

Simple Words

I was going back and editing something Abigail and I wrote together while she was here, about a main character in ETOLT 3-4, Van, and his son (who's just a baby in 4). The day she flew into DC I started getting mental images of Éonan, the son, yelling at his father about something. I was very curious about this, so we decided to write about it and see where little 'Nan would take us. What came out is a 40 page short story. If you are at all interested, feel free to email. I made this title page to go along with the story.

Stock:
Boar - Google
Flowers & Texture - =Resurgere
Eye & background - sxc
Brushes - Rhysin.Graphics.
Dagger - the flying dolphin-stock

Bunch

Flatter

The colors flatter each other.

Strawberry picking with Katherine and her family in the spring/June-ish time.

Blue Flight

To Exit

When Amy left on a mission trip. Reagan Nation Airport.

Forgotten News

Saw this on a walk in spring, I think. It was windy.

Psalm

Old one from the Potomac. (I'm going through old pictures right now.)

Imagination

Philip.

Photo by Laura, editted by me.

Unspoken Trails

Yes, this is a remix of Forest Guide. A commenter (Jolene) suggested that I try to make it have a warmer look, so I have, and I've added a layer. (See, if you comment, I'll do whatever you say! (Okay, maybe not.))

Texture:
=Resurgere

Lullabies

No, I am not dead. I am sleeping.

My hair looks orange in this. Innnteresting.

Autumn Running

Laura loves taking pictures of people running. She had to use the flash on this one, because the sun was setting and the woods were getting dark, but hopefully it doesn't look like that too much.

Forest Guide

One of my favorites. I only with the focus was on me, not the tree. But you can hardly tell.