Art: Mondigan 100 (Color)

So, after three days and another thirty hours since I finished the gray-scale version, we have a color version. Getting a scheme down (when I started with none), with green and gold, at 3 AM, was pretty difficult.

For the record, my character, Rivek is fifteen years old as of yesterday. I obviously don't remember the day I created him. It's just his in-story birthday. But originally, he was a nice, Gary Stu mix of Prince Jonathan of Tortall and Tobias from Animorphs. He, everyone else in the series, and I have come a long way. We grew up together. This will be the cover for when I collect all 100 of these theme pieces. You can check them (and the story) out here: [link]

Again, I really, really, can't thank you followers enough for your quiet, steady, support with my original work. It's months later, and I am still floored by the response to this poll. I sometimes assume people follow me from conventions and expect mostly fanart. I could probably way more popular if I drew Harry Potter all day. But, this is what I'm really passionate about. So it's really heartwarming that so many of you take interest in what create for myself. I do apologize that it's so in-pieces when I present it to you - but I haven't worked my story out entirely! It is getting there, though. This project - and what I am learning here in Los Angeles - has been a huge help.

Art: Mondigan 100 (Black and White)

And eighty hours of work later... happy birthday to my fictional character, haha. I'm finally glad to do a piece of this magnitude, especially for myself. Thank you all so much for the support, reading my weird writings and everything. You guys don't know how much it means to me.

This will be the cover for when I collect all 100 of these theme pieces. You can check them (and the story) out here: [link]

Click to full-view on deviantART!

Art: 061/100 Themes - Fairy Tale

"Istoria." Fairy Tale. - 61/100 Themes.

Argh, this is the only one I haven't posted on time. But yes - this is how she started to like him in the first place, stupid stories.

Rivek sat at the side of the bed. He had changed out of his guards’ uniform. Without his bandages or boots, his sleep clothes revealed the scars that traced his hands and legs.

Willow climbed in amongst the emerald pillows and wrapped the blankets around herself, burying deep underneath until only her eyes showed over the tops of the covers.

“It’s spring, you don’t need that,” he clicked his tongue.

“Says the man who’s a living, breathing, energy-sucking icicle.” He reached out to touch her forehead, causing her to hide her face completely.

“Tell me a story,” she said, her voice muffled through the covers. “Like you did when we were kids. One of your Alisian fairy tales. But not one of those depressing ones where everyone gets placed under a curse and dies at the end.”

Rivek laughed. “That’s almost all of them.”

“Tell me the one where you got your name.”

“I think I can do that.” He walked into the other room and retrieved his journal before he climbed onto the downy mattress. He put his arm around her shoulder, and she yelped.

“Goddamn. Icicle,” she said, throwing the blanket over both of them.

He opened the book and thumbed through the pages with his free hand. "Once upon a time, the god of War went out to battle to a far away land."

“He sounds like an ass.”

“That he was. He had to leave his beautiful daughter, the Princess of Clouds, at home. After all, she was one of those skinny sorts who couldn't hold a sword. She had eyes the color of the sky and hair the color of ripe wheat.” He turned the page.

Willow tucked her hair behind her ears and reach over to flip back the page he had just turned.

“What’re you doing? You can’t read it.”

“I know, but the letters are pretty.” The Alisian script was Rivek’s neat handwriting, a collection of brushstroke swirls that had been invented four hundred years ago. It had been derived from the Common language as a way to obscure military documents, but it had long since evolved and blended with other languages to become its own system of writing.

"Anyway, with a girl that pretty, of course someone was going to try and steal her away. And an evil prince did. He came with his men and raided the tower and took this girl to his mountain home. You can imagine what he did there."

She yawned, “I thought I said nothing depressing.”

“You said no depressing endings. I haven’t reached the middle yet.” He flicked her ear. "Locked amongst the cliffs, the girl didn't know what to do. So she sang, hoping someone would hear her. And she cried rivers, upon rivers - that is, making the rivers that flowed down from the mountains. Grass grew in the valleys where her tears collected, and animals started appearing. These animals longed to see the face of their creator, so one day - one of them grew wings."

He made an idiotic bird gesture with his hands. "So, the eagle was born, and he flew to the tower.”

He looked down. Her breathing was soft and rhythmic, and her eyes were closed. “Well, you can kind of guess what happened next. Girl befriends eagle. Eagle eats evil warlord. Girl rides eagle back to her dad."

He combed her hair with his fingers. "And that's what my name means. 'Eagle'. Sort of. It's a conjugated form of the word, rivekron, which means 'to soar.' Technically, it's what the girl said as she told the eagle to fly away from the mountain hold."

He laughed softly and kissed her on the forehead as he got up to leave. “Why do you care that no one dies in the end if you’re just going to fall asleep halfway through?”

Art: 060/100 Themes - Rejection

"Envitalio." Rejection. - 060/100 Themes.

Three in a row where I'm just beating the crap out of Rivek. I'm a bad person.

 

Willow huddled with her stomach against the ground. She felt something soft grace her cheek. As the dust settled, she turned her head and saw barred, gray feathers. Gingerly, she lifted Rivek's wing off her shoulder and struggled to her knees. He collapsed on top of her, and she felt hot blood run down the front of her shirt. The ground crunched as she rolled him off and leaned his limp form against a broken pillar.

She looked at her chest, where she felt the blood. She was fine, just scrapes and bruises. She turned her attention to her newly hired bodyguard. From what she knew about his powers, maintaining his form halfway between man and bird was the most taxing ability he could use, and he had done it for her with no second thought. When he eyed the first fuse being lit, he brought her to the ground with superhuman speed and shielded her with his body, turning them into massive wings to increase his surface area. The avian limbs he'd protected her with shrank back into human flesh, scratched and bleeding from shards of glass and stone. His left sagged, and she could see the sundered collarbone peeking out from a wound by his neck.

He spoke softly, between short breaths, "Just. Doing. My job."  A thin, wood beam protruded from his chest. Black blood pooled around the opening, nibbling at the timber before running down his side. He muttered, "Fucking. Hurts."

She put her hand on his cheek and looked around as she ran it through his hair. She needed help. Her only experience with severe puncture wounds involved people who were already dead. The explosion had taken out much of the castle wall, flooding the room with rubble. People emerged from the dust, recovering from shock. An armored man threw a door off of himself so he could stand. A woman crawled out from under a table. She heard a moan.

"Will..."

Fenne lay a short distance away. His lower limbs had been crushed, trapped under a piece of ceiling. Blood slowly ran out from under the rock. He met her gaze, his eyes pleading and red dripped down his nose and into his mouth.

She turned to Rivek. He nodded in Fenne's direction. The wood moved up and down in time with his heaving chest as he muttered.

She met Fenne's gaze again, and her heart quickened. She could not attend to two fatal wounds at once. She looked around again in panic. A bevy of medical staff members, dressed in white and guarded by a squadron or soldier, ran into the room.

Rivek's skin had turned pale, and his lips were now blue, moving without sound. Willow hoped it was not some kind of final prayer. The color had gone from his eyes, from vibrant blue to lifeless gray. The group of nurses settled around Fenne, and he disappeared from view. No one else would do it. No one else could do it. When Rivek signed that contract, he became her responsibility alone and, if she helped anyone else, he would die.

She put his lips to his and breathed the threads of her magic into his collapsed lung. It seemed useless. She tried again, reaching deeper his time, past the trachea and into the tiny branches in the lungs. Her knees shook as the air rushed out of her body, pushing against the collapsed walls of the tissue. They moved. She gripped his torn clothes to steady herself as she exhaled once more into his body. The invading air in his chest cavity bubbled out through the wound, and the lung expanded to fill his ribcage again.

The wooden stake, finally burned through by the acid blood, clattered to the ground in two pieces. The now-open wound sputtered, the blood fighting and losing against the hastily forming tissue. As the hole closed up with a keloid scar, she felt him breath on his own again. She re-positioned his fractured clavicle and coaxed the shattered bone back together with a sewing motion. Cold sweat ran down her forehead. There would be more to attend to later, but the important part was taken care of. He swallowed the blood in his mouth, half a smile crawling onto his face. She ran her bloody fingers through his dark hair and rested her cheek against his neck. He would live.

Art: 053/100 Themes - Keeping a Secret

"Pozesir zekreta." Keeping a secret. - 053/100 Themes.

Best first date ever. ;D

 

Rivek leaned his head back, but it only caused the blood to drain down the back of his throat. It tasted sour. He turned and spat into the fountain before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Willow grabbed his jaw, so she could hold him still and get a better look at the damage. She wet the rag she clutched and wiped off the blood that had begun to dry on his upper lip. As her fingers graced his skin, she could see the networks of his broken blood vessels lighting up with her magic. Quickly, they darkened, absorbing her energy. She blinked. This had never happened before. She touched them again, and again her magic faded into his body.

"Can you fix it?" he asked. His ears rang, and his stuffy voice felt far away.

"I'm trying - I don't know what's wrong." She threw out her threads once more. This time, she had to forcibly pushed them forward through his bloodstream, constantly reinforcing them with more magic from her core. Her hands shook a little, and sweat beaded on her palms and forehead. As her energy passed through, the burst vessels repaired themselves. She drove her threads deeper, through the soft skin and flesh, to his skull. She ran them along its surface, searching for any irregularity. A wide fracture ran across his nose bridge.

She moved his hand away from his face. "Don't touch it - it's broken."

He smirked and replied with a nasal, "You're telling me."

She placed either hand on the side of his nose and with a crunch, set it back to place. He howled and pushed her hands away.

"You, sir, are a terrible patient. Stay off it, and let it heal." She looked at her work in the moonlight. Even in the dark, she could tell this was sub-par to any healing she had ever done before. She sent another barrage of magic through his sinuses, but she was too tired to reinforce it. It dissipated like her first and left her short of breath. The bone and tissue repair was still shoddy, rough around the edges.

"This is going to bruise tomorrow morning. Keep something cold on it, to keep the swelling down."

He sat on his hands to keep from touching his face. "Is it going to hurt like a bitch? The same way it's doing now?"

"Don't say 'bitch'!" She set her arms in her lap and broke eye contact. "Probably."

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. We'll just say I fell off a horse."

"I'd believe that. You're an awful rider." She stifled laughed with her now bloody hands. She rinsed them in the fountain.

He washed his hands as well and stood up to wipe them on his pants. "Let's go," he motioned. "It's harder to sneak back into a castle when people are awake."

Willow stifled a gasp as he put his arm around her shoulder. She was glad it was dark out, or he would have seen her blush. "That was a really nice thing you did - standing up for me."

"Don't worry about it."

She ran her fingers nervously through the ends of her braided hair and bit her lip. "You're not going to tell anyone that I asked you to sneak me out of the palace, right?"

"As long as you don't tell anybody that I travel with thieves - but more importantly - that I can count cards." He winked but quickly regretted having ever moved the muscles on his face. With something halfway between a smile and a wince, he whispered, "This is our little secret."

Art: 050/100 Themes - Breaking the Rules

"Shundar regelum." Breaking the Rules. - 50/100 Themes.

I can't believe it! I started this project two years ago, and now I am halfway though. This is a landmark. I'm really happy.

Under Willow's pressuring, Rivek sneaks her out of the castle, dressed like a boy. This is what we call a "character midpoint"...

 

"Haven't you ever been outside a castle before? You're seem new at this rule-breaking thing." Rivek handed Willow a pile of folded clothing. "Put these on."

She looked through the individual articles. They were commoner clothes, a simply design boy's outfit with dull colors and many holes. However, most importantly, they bore no palace markings.

"What? They're clean."

She picked up the shirt, stretching it out at her arms' width. "They're kind of big, aren't they?"

"Well, you're kind of small."

She threaded her hands through the cotton sleeves and narrowed her eyes.

He sat down at his desk, waiting. He knew girls could take an awful long time when getting ready, but he had told her not to wear make-up. He hoped that would at least cut the time in half.

She waved her hand. He gave her a confused look in response.

"Oh, wait. Right." He turned his chair around, making an exaggerated gesture to show he was most definitely covering his eyes.

Just in case he was watching, she slipped the garment over her head before unbuttoning her uniform. It took substatial flexibility to remove her everyday shirt, but Rivek's gave her plenty of room to maneuver. She let her clothes drop to the ground before sliding her arms through the sleeves of her new top. On Rivek, the cuffs fell just past his shoulders, but, on her, they reached her elbows. She threw his vest on top, and it ended at her hips, close enough to be a dress in its own right.

"Done yet?" he started to turn back around.

"No!" she picked up her discarded shirt and threw it at his head. He immediately returned to face the wall, throwing his hands into the air before covering his face again.

As carefully as before, she put the pants on under her skirt before removing her own clothes. They itched a little, and the crotch fell uncomfortably low, almost halfway down her thighs. When she let go of the waist, they drooped to her knees, and she scrambled to pick them back up again. "This isn't going to work."

He turned around. Willow stood with his pants hiked around her waist. He could not help but laugh. He stifled his mirth and got up to dig through his dresser. He produced a wide belt. "Nope, won't work at all, but maybe this will. It's Bohren's, but he won't mind."

Willow sat down on the bed to keep the pants from falling down mid-fastening and tied the belt around her waist. "All right, let's go."

He tilted his head to the side and looked her up and down. "I don't think so." He went back to the dresser and emerged with a gray cap. He threw it in her direction, and it landed at her feet.

She picked it up off the floor and put it on her head. "Done now?"

He motioned for her to tuck her hair under it.

"You're going to make me look like a boy." She knotted her long, chestnut braid into a spiral and tugged the cap squarely over it.

"That's kind of the plan. So, that -" He pointed to her chest. "-is going to be a problem." The unbuttoned collar hung just above Willow's petite cleavage. She immediately folded her arms to cover it, blushing.

He laughed again. "So I guess you don't just need my old clothes. You'll also need my sporting equipment. Here." He handed her a fat roll of bandage and turned around again. "Tie them down. I won't look."

She undid the belt and took her top off, keeping a watchful eye on Rivek. Next, she removed her bra and stuffed it under her discarded clothes. She covered her nipples as she passed the first end of the bandage under her arm. Wrapping the strip around her body was more difficult than she had expected, and the loops she made were diagonal and uneven. Nevertheless, she figured it would do. She clipped the ends down and tucked in the edges. Her chest felt tight, so she adjusted her breathing as she put the other clothes back on. "You can turn around now."

He sized her up one last time. "Almost," he touched his earlobe. "You forgot something."

It took her a few seconds to recognize what he meant. "Oh!" She took the gold backings out, and let the emerald drops fall into her palms.

Rivek extended his hand.

"How do I know you'll give them back?" She closed her hands into a fist. "For all I know, you're going to run off and sell them!"

"Looks like you're just going to have to trust me. But," He shrugged. "To put things into perspective - since you're already trusting me to guide you into a figurative thieves' den, then the earrings aren't such a big issue, are they?"

Resentfully, she opened her hand. He took the jewelry and dropped it into his dress shoe under his desk.

"That's disgusting."

"Come on. I haven't used them in months. And trust me - no one will find them there." He approached the door and held it open for her with a bow. "Milady."

She walked up to the exit. But right before she stepped over the threshold, he let the door slam shut. The hinges reverberated from the loud crack.

He winked. "Get used to it. Where we're going, that doesn't happen."

She glared at him. Then, she pushed the door open herself and stepped into the hallway.

Art: 049/100 Themes - Stripes

"Virtigen." Stripes. - 49/100 Themes.

Just Rivek and Willow being cute. He's still trying to adjust to his servitude. Good thing Will is a nice boss. For the record, Rivek is 5'11", and Willow is 5'4".

 

Willow grabbed Rivek's wrist and moved behind him, stepping on her tiptoes, so she could reach his shoulder. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. It was covered in green and gold stripes. She tied it to his arm, around his tattoo, and kissed his cheek, "There, that's how they'll know you're mine."

Art: 046/100 Themes - Family

"Sangnomion." Family. - 46/100 Themes.

The word for "family" in Alisian translates directly to "the name of the blood".

 

"Trust me," Verendiel said as closed the door to Willow's room. "You will like this man. He is wealthy, well-educated, well-bred from the most noble Tyrisi lineage, and most importantly, one of us." 

"A doctor?" 

"Not just a doctor. A white-magic healer. With generations of documented white-magic healers before him." Willow hoped he wasn't some distant cousin she had just not yet heard of. 

Verendiel brought forth a dress made of green velvet, hemmed with gold embroidery. It looked thick and heavy. Just from looking at it, Willow could tell the skirt would be too long, with too many layers that would balloon up around her as she walked. 

She climbed into the dress as if she were climbing into a great mushroom made of fabric. Great, she thought. Ninety percent chance I'll trip on something. Ninety-nine percent chance I'll trip over myself. 

Verendiel hiked the skirt up around Willow's waist and pulled her arms through the sleeves. "You never say anything good about the boys I pick for you. I do not know why." 

She tightened Willow's corset, forcing a wheeze from her unprepared chest. "I know you love me, but you certainly have a very funny of way of showing it. You should not be so ungrateful. Every time, I go through so much trouble of finding you a worthwhile suitor." 

She stepped around to Willow's front and began powdering her face. Willow tried not to sneeze. "You were such a tom boy when you were little. You worried me so much, following your brother around. I thought sending you away for school would fix that. The prospects became far better when you came home. But they dwindle every time you turn another one away." 

"You are making this very hard on me." She painted Willow's eyes and lips with brown and pink creams. "I do all this searching because I love you. So you don't even have to lift a finger." 

Verendiel stepped back, admiring her work. Willow thought she must look like a clown, or a doll that some small child with no concept of color drew on. "I know what it is. You must really stop letting that black-blood follow you. Queens do not have time to keep pets. It's frivolous and reflects poorly on our court." 

She set a golden circlet upon her daughter's head. "I love you, but it's time that you grow up and consider what is good for our family. With your brother gone, you are our only investment. If that black dog continues to hang around you like that, real, more-suitable men will never see you as a potential wife."

"Mother, he's my friend." 

"You can find better friends."

Art: 045/100 Themes - Illusion

"Ilujia." Illusion. - 45/100 Themes.

I suck at writing flirting, but I admit, Rivek is a bit of a pervy dick.

Rosmyne is a re-work of an old character who used to be Willow's room-mate (and Rivek's ex) in high school. Now, she is a former servant girl with a penchant for money. She is the kind of woman who hops from man to man to achieve her goals.

As a teenager, she slept with Rivek because she thought he would marry her and give her noble title (no one else was troubled or rebellious enough to sleep with servants). When his title is stripped away, she is coincidentally ruined. As an already "lesser" person who is no longer a virgin, she has lost her social value.

She continues to work at the castle behind the scenes, hidden in shame, until she serves dinner to a handsome prince from the north. Empathetic to her drive for self-worth, Sorian sees value in her still. He tells her he can give her back everything she lost. He buys her, and she willingly undergoes his experimentation. It gives her magic ability to manipulate others' thoughts and dreams through touch.

Slowly, she falls in love with him and the possible royal title he could provide, but he is too wrapped-up in his own quest for power. Both Sorian and Rosmyne are people who define their internal value by rewards from external sources.

At first, I was iffy on re-purposing Rosmyne due to possible "sexploitation," but I think her addition actually rounds out my female cast. Each balances power and gender differently: Willowren has tons of power, but her culture's expectations of women restrict the ways she can express it to traditionally feminine paths. Mirab expresses her inherent power through masculine means. Perrin is born with very little, so she joins the male-dominated military to achieve status. Rosmyne exploits her feminine nature to climb the social ladder.

Specifically, I want Perrin and Rosmyne to serve as contrasts to one another. Perrin is forward - to the point of bullheadedness - in achieving her dreams. Rosmyne is manipulative and uses others to get what she wants.

Also - Rivek verbally denies it, but he highly values his relationship with Willow. So, since Alisian culture treats men and women as military equals, Rivek has no qualms about beating the crap out of a girl who threatens it.

 

Rivek wandered through the dark corridor. The mage-lights had been extinguished much earlier, so only moonlight guided his passage. He ran his hand along the wall to avoid walking into potentially painful objects. Most of the castle's inhabitants would be asleep by now. He thought he would be as well. He did not understand what kept him awake.

The warm, night air blew in through the marble archways and licked at his bare skin. Given the late hour and lingering summer swelter, he had not bothered to find a shirt. He paused as his hand slid over a familiar carved handle, the door to the great hall. The vaulted ceilings seemed like a much better alternative to the confined corridor.  He had to throw most of his weight into it, but he managed to create enough of a opening to slide sideways in.

Blue light streamed in through the stained glass windows, casting hues that turned the white ground into an ocean floor. As he looked up from the patterns on the tile, his eye caught the glimmering, gold, hem of a piece of cloth. In light, it would have been rich crimson, but the night transformed its shadows into a deep violet. A woman sat in the throne at the front of the room, swathed by this mass of red silk, gazing at the moon. Noticing his entrance, she stood. The cloth fell from her shoulders, revealing her pale skin. She wore nothing.

He laughed. "Willow. I'm not going to lie, but this is pretty odd."

She smiled. "Come here."

He obeyed, stopping at the foot of the throne's platform. "I thought you'd be in bed. As in, I expected you to be in bed until noon tomorrow."

She laughed, and it echoed like bells off the stone walls. She moved closer, leaving only a few inches between their bodies. "Same as you, I couldn't sleep."

"Maybe you should try again." He smirked, doing a poor job of keeping his eyes and hands off her exposed breasts. "Not that you'd get lost in your own house, but if you need someone to take you back to your quarters - well, 'escort' is in my job description."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and left a quick peck where the two scars crossed on his cheek. "Not to dismiss your acts of chivalry, but, no, I'm going to stay here, thank you. It's a nice enough night, isn't it?"

He wrapped one hand around her waist and used the other to brush her long hair out of his face. "You're going to sit naked for an undetermined period of time in a public place that will be quickly populated in a few hours. Good plan."

"That's not what I mean." She threw him a fake, angry glance and pushed him back playfully. He went along with the act and dropped to his knees.

"Then what do you mean?"

"I simply mean I don't want to go back to my room."

He nodded and rolled his eyes, "That seems like kind of a dumb thing to want."

She knelt to meet him and began playing with his dark hair. She ran her hands down his bare abdomen, tracing the scars that ran down it. She paused, just under his navel, before letting her fingers snake slowly downwards again. He tensed.

"Well, since you've been nice enough to let me have what I want," she bowed her head and looked up to meet his eyes, "I can give you what you so desperately want."

With one quick breath, she pressed her lips to his and slipped her tongue between his teeth.

It tasted like iron, ash, and saltpeter. Quickly, he broke the kiss and bit his tongue. He wanted to wash out his mouth. Even his own blood would have tasted better. He spat onto the ground, narrowed his eyes, and wiped his lips.

Cupping his hand around her fair cheek, he leaned in and whispered into her ear, "No, I'm afraid, you can't. Because this is a dream. An illusion. And when I wake up, I am going to make you regret this. Because - sorry, love - but birds like me mate for life."

He nodded toward the silken cloth spread on the floor. "By the way, Rosmyne, her favorite color is green."

Art: 044/100 Themes - Two Roads

"Dai piea." Two Roads. - 44/100 Themes.

 

"Willowren, you have two very different men in your life who are going to take you down two very different roads - which lead to two very different places, for you and your kingdom. Make sure you pick the right one."

Art: 36/100 Themes - Precious Treasure

"Treizor prezi." Precious Treasure. - 36/100 Themes. Most of Rivek's material possessions are simple, everyday things that can be easily replaced. Oddly enough, his most prized object is an easily-destroyed piece of paper that grants him one type of freedom for another.

Rivek looked at his reflection in the window. Shadows crept under his cheeks and circled around his eyes. He needed a haircut. He scratched his head. It hurt his hands more than it relieved his scalp. His fingers were still tender. The night before, they had cracked and bled while he bathed.

"Keep your wounds clean," Eamon had warned, tapping the cross-shaped scar on Rivek's cheek. "You have enough scars from infection."

King Auster coughed, bringing Rivek's attention back to the task at hand. He stared past the king's high-backed chair to Fenne, the prince standing behind it. Rivek looked down and subtly shook his head. He felt a small hand on his shoulder. Willow stood next to him, a slim but sturdy presence between him and the royal guard. A servant approached and lit a fat, milky-white candle on the table between the two parties.

Rivek wrung his hands, splitting the skin again. Stupid. But he still had nightmares. He woke up, gasping for air, trying to cough the taste of smoke out of his lungs. Just the thought of open flame made him sweat.

King Auster slipped a piece of parchment in front of him and looked at Willow with furrowed brows. Rivek didn't feel like actually reading it. He knew what it said - in much longer words than necessary. Give up your lies and become a slave. In exchange, you get to live.

The notary placed a quill and a shallow, silver dish onto the table. One of the guards shoved Rivek's chair closer.

"No need to be so rough, now. Not like I'm going to run away, am I?"

The soldier took Rivek's right hand and unwrapped the bandages on it, revealing raw, newly-healed skin. Willow had not done an amazing job, but no one else would have worked on him. The guard made a shallow slice it down the middle of his palm. Just enough to draw blood. Rivek winced as the black liquid dripped into the dish.

He picked up the quill with his left hand and dipped it in the makeshift ink. He signed his true name on the parchment, an Alisian name that was too long and meant too many things. Ailinar AIlinar Rivek Ildorus. The acid blood quickly faded to red but not before burning a few tiny holes in the paper where Rivek had pressed down too hard.

Willow followed suit, saturating the quill tip, which was quickly melting down, with his blood and dashing her name below his. She wrote quickly and left no holes in the paper.

King Auster nodded and melted a strip of red wax over the candle flame. He dabbed it next to the signatures and pressed his ring into it before adding his own name, again in blood. He turned to Willow, "He belongs to you now."

Willow grabbed the wrist on Rivek's bloodied hand. He bit his tongue, holding back the retort he had immediately thought up. She ran her finger in a zig-zag pattern across the cut, and it pulled itself together like a tightened dress seam. All that was left was a thin, red line which she quickly hid and she re-bandaged it.

Rivek raised his now mended hand. "Now, that I am no longer under the jurisdiction of His Majesty, King Auster, I have something I would like to say: You are a very, very, horrible person."

Art: 033/100 Themes: Expectations

"Jusangion." Expectations. - 33/100 Themes.

Oh, the stupid things you have to do when you are royalty.

 

Willow loosened the collar on her dress. It had been so heavily starched, it left rings on her skin. Her neck was sweating. She clenched and flexed her fingers within the thick, formal gloves. Her palms were sweating. She scratched the small of her back. Some sweat there, too. Gross.

"Don't be nervous. It's just like we rehearsed," Fenne whispered.

Too bad that telling someone not to be nervous just makes them more nervous.

He took her hand. A fanfare of trumpets sounded beyond the gold curtains. "I present to you the future king and queen of the Brennan nation."

The pair stepped out to a room full of people in expensive dress, starched collars and white gloves everywhere. The clapped politely, softly with stiff elbows. Willow searched for a familiar face, but everyone seemed much older, both men and women reaching middle age. They held their lips tightly shut with regal formality. She looked closer and saw the wrinkles at the edges of their eyes and mouths that came with making too many court decisions, too many judgements.

She swallowed the lump in the throat and stole a quick glance at her partner. With the same grim formality, he took her waist in his arm, and they began to dance.

Art: Character Relations and Outfit Guide for Mondigan

Every time I start a new sketchbook (roughly every six months or so), I draw Rivek in whatever is outfit design is at that point. it's a way of seeing how far I have come and how far I need to go. These are usually done in airports and on planes since I like having new sketchbooks for trips - and because the whole character centers around flight.

I did this waiting to take BUR -> OAK to see some college friends in San Fransisco. It has some stronger linework due to influence from Eric Canete. His costume uses more metal and doesn't have as dramatic sleeves anymore since I wanted to trim the silhouette into one that accents vertical lines (I know, because he's not a skinny whelp enough as it is). And his pose is not relaxed and he's got more of a smirk because I wanted something more excited about life this time around.

 

When I flew back home for a week in August, I lost my pencil case (including my signature stamp). So after flipping out, I bought some cheap pencils to draw with (HB, I am accustomed to 4B). But I still didn't want to do anything fancy, so I decided to try and draw portraits of my characters (a few I have never shown the public before, even!). The goal was to get them to look different but keep nationalities and family relationships similar. I need to draw smaller eyes.
 
Rivek is our socially-stigmatized main character who serves as the personal agent and doer of dirty work to the doctor-princess, Willow. She is as stubborn and bull-headed as she is hopeful. In order to gain an ally and stop a war, Willow is set to marry another prince, Fenne, but he re-negs on the engagement when she proves her feelings really lie with Rivek - costing him his ability to walk.

To take our his frustration, he banishes Rivek and hires Rivek's best friend, Bohren into his guard. Knowing they are now on opposite sides tears Bohren to pieces because he still needs to separate his feelings between friendship and homosexual romance. In exchange for a new pair of legs, Fenne allies with Sorian, the leader of the country invading Willow's territory. Together, they build war machines and commit genocide.
 
Eamon is Fenne's scientific advisor - who helped Willow with her doctor training back in school - is afraid that the princes will murder his daughter, Perrin. So the pair seek refugee status with Willow. She accepts, and Perrin develops a rapport with Rivek due to their interest in dark magic. Rivek looks over Eamon's notes and helps re-work them to use dark magic, thus giving their side an edge advantage.

But to using dark magic requires dark mages, so he seeks the help of his estranged sister, Mirab. She agrees if once the war is over, Willow and her congress stops the genocide against their people. Kai is her adopted son. His merchant father abandoned him when he began to show traces of dark magic.

There are more details, but I think that's enough for now. Those things in the corner are some dress silhouettes from the Alexander McQueen Exhibit. Everyone's name ends in an "n" sound.

 

This is an outfit design guide for the seven countries that make up the continent of Mondigan. It details stuff like climate, color scheme. All designs are based around a central tenet of the countries' value system - represented as a simple geometric shape that gets repeated in the outfit. Countries that are more similar in mindset use more similar shapes. Each also has a signature style item unique to that culture. Unity for the entire continent, though, should be derived from similar materials.

 

Expanding on that further, I went ahead and drew some male and female Alisian outfits. Alisians live in a strict, role-based meritocracy where rank is determined by what you have done and what your forefathers have done. Although there is a certain genetic phenotype common in Alisians (tall, thin, pale, non-red hair, angular skull, hooked nose), appearance, gender, and sexual orientation are not measures of a person's value. Especially if that person can wield a sword. An Alisian is self-defined by their devotion to their religion and having been raised in an Alisian culture.

Despite being a military culture, the central tenet of Alisian religion is "balance" of light and dark. All things in moderation. Therefore, their visual design symbol is a diamond - symmetrical on all sides but still highly dynamic. Given that Rivek and Mirab are half-Alisian and best represent the phenotype, I have drawn them in generic male and female Alisian clothing. The cuts are slightly different to exaggerate how the diamond form falls along each gender, but given that gender is not a defining trait of the individual, the overall design remains mostly the same.

The sleeves are tied to the main shirt body and often not used in summer. They can come in multiple lengths, mix and match for variety. However, it is important to note that - even in the dead of winter - sleeves and arm gear are not worn during religious ceremonies out of respect.

Alisians begin combat training as soon as they can walk, and young adults tend to venture to other countries to seek temporary work. So although much of the Alisian economy is self-sustaining on fish, sheep, and tough grains, they also receive a strong vein of outside income from steel and mercenary work. Unscrupulous, non-religious, private businessmen will usually hire an Alisian bodyguard (this is how Rivek's father and mother met). So, completely illogically, I drew Bohren in a tentative Alisian armor design... which I am not promptly scrapping. It is far too impractical. I also meant to draw Willow in Alisian priestess robes, but I got lazy.

 

Sometimes, I draw my characters in their skivvies. For the record, this is what they would wear to sleep.  Done in the lobby of =ProdigyBombay's ultra-cool workplace while I was waiting for her to hang out with me.

Art: 031/100 Themes - Flowers

"Floran." Flowers. 031/100 Themes.

Sorian is not a terrible person, just one twisted by ambition.

"I think we had a pretty bad introduction. I'm sorry."

---

We've reached our funding goal (way over-reached! $4,000!), and there are just hours left, to pre-order the Boiled Fish Art Book project, coming Spring 2011! Sixty-four pages of illustration, sketches, and walkthroughs from ten great artists. Also include exclusive content - and you get more exclusive bonuses if you preorder. You may even win an original sketch! Please support us - through donation or advertising - here: http://kck.st/c8Afi8

Art: 030/100 Themes – Under the Rain

"Sun pluvea." Under the Rain. 030/100 Themes.

Rivek's foster father is the lord of a very pretty, small, seaside town. The three of them take their summer holidays there the year after Willow first arrives at their school.

Willowren used to mad crush on Bohren. Too bad he's gay. Then again, at sixteen, he doesn't know that yet.

Jesus, my anatomy took a hit on this one, too. Have to get back into figure drawing, I guess.

Willowren knew her legs were shorter, but she absolutely refused to come in second. She turned around and saw Bohren a good thirty feet or so behind her. Burying his sandals at the beach had bought her an early advantage.

She rounded a corner to duck out of eye-shot and into the hedge that surrounded the Cordelain manor. Not exactly behavior fit for a princess, but her mother was thankfully nowhere nearby to admonish her. She yelped as a dripping branch smack her across the forehead, leaving a pink welt in its wake. "Shit," she muttered under her breath. Also very unbecoming of a princess.

Emerging from the brush with a number of new scrapes, she turned around to gauge her progress but was distracted by the hazy, gray sky. She wiped the water from her eyes. The sight of rainclouds hovering over the open ocean was still new to her. After all, up until a year ago, she'd been living in a country whose largest water source were lakes fed by melting mountain ice. The lakes were big in their own way, but it was like comparing a very large chicken to an adult horse.

Unfortunately, for all her clever planning, Bohren still had longer legs. His muttered cursing over his muddy sandals caused her to break into a run again, stifling a laugh.

Panting, she dashed up the remaining few yards to the back kitchen door. Despite its weight, she flung it open with energy from excitement. And with just as much enthusiasm, she slammed it shut. The force caused a wooden bowl to come rattling off a nearby countertop, spilling its contents - soaking lentils - all over the ground. She leaned back against the door for a quick breath which immediately turned into a hearty laugh.

"I see this is the type of decorum they're teaching young ladies at the palace these days," the cook snorted.

Willow just shrugged and lifted her sopping bangs out of her eyes.

"Oh, you have no need for apologies, do you, princess?" Her stammering was interrupted by a rhythmic knock on the door.

She leaned against the keyhole, "What's the password?"

"Password? You've got to be kidding me. Uh... abra-ca-fucking-dabra."

"Nope, try again."

"Password."

"I'm not that stupid."

"Will is amazing and smart and beautiful, and I will never again challenge her to a footrace."

She opened the door just a crack. Bohren stood under the awning, dripping wet and getting further drenched in the rain every second. He had removed his shirt and was using it to wipe his forehead, but it didn't wipe the smirk off his face.

Perfect. Just how she had planned it.

---

I have a backlog of these - and I will be uploading them once a day until our artbook pre-order is over.

We've reached our funding goal, and there are eight days left, to pre-order the Boiled Fish Art Book project, coming Spring 2011! Sixty-four pages of illustration, sketches, and walkthroughs from ten great artists. Also include exclusive content - and you get more exclusive bonuses if you preorder. You may even win an original sketch! Please support us - through donation or advertising - here: http://kck.st/c8Afi8

Art: 029/100 Themes – Happiness

"Iuvea." - Happiness. 29/100 Themes.

Wonky anatomy is wonky.

---

I actually have a backlog of nine of these - and I will be uploading them once a day until our art book pre-order is over.

We've reached our funding goal, and there are nine days left, to pre-order the Boiled Fish Art Book project, coming Spring 2011! Sixty-four pages of illustration, sketches, and walkthroughs from ten great artists. Also include exclusive content - and you get more exclusive bonuses if you preorder. You may even win an original sketch! Please support us - through donation or advertising - here: http://kck.st/c8Afi8

Art: Morbid Ending

LOL... Happy birthday to my favorite character ever! Ironically, I've drawn you dying. I've been playing around with my story's ending, but I don't want to write it up for you all just yet. Minus a few egregious anatomy errors, this came out just how I wanted it to. Unfortunately, the colors are so subtle it looks so much better in real life!

"Argia dena pilio. E leva ei senta ni pienara. Em korvi reduka ta tari en sinera."

Wrath begets Pardon. I depart and feel no pain. My body returns to the earth in ashes.

Art: 026/100 Themes - Tears

"Triez". - Tears. 26/100 Themes.

Born in the lap of luxury with a gold-star education, Willowren is a flawless healer for most people. However, most people don't have dark magic - something entirely foreign that no class could have prepared her for. Given that she takes a lot of things for granted, her inability to easily heal Rivek's physical (and emotional) wounds is troubling, challenging, and humbling for her.

When I design magic powers, I don't really like them to be flashy, no glowing lights and smoke and stuff. It's grotesque, organic manipulation with an academic overtone - representative of how we try to study to understand the things around us. I want it to be something humans have attempted to harness but is powerful and mystic but a little bit horrifying in such a way that it draws respect from its users.

Haha, everything I write has the same tone. Too much of what I write is driven by dialogue and too much of it is painfully sarcastic.


Despite the warm, muggy weather, Willowren felt goosebumps on her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, oh my god. I've never done this before." Her fingers were so stiff, they trembled as she unbuttoned Rivek's torn shirt.

"I'm sure you've seen a little blood." He winced. The wound was deeper than he'd expected, and his corrosive, acidic blood was widening the gash every second.

She massaged either side of the tear, trying to coax the muscle and intestinal fiber back together. The skin would hold itself together momentarily, but seconds later, the blood would burn its way through again and put her back to the beginning. She grimaced as she felt the muscle underneath her fingers writhing as he breathed.

"Really, usually, it stays closed." On any other man it would have. How disgustingly ironic that her best friend would be the only one she couldn't easily help.

"I'm thinking you'll have to do this manually." He coughed, partially to clear the blood welling in his throat but more fighting to stay conscious.

She fumbled while threading the needle, cursing her own hands as her friend's complexion grew paler. She swallowed, hoping not to retch from the stink of burning flesh. Finally, she was able to dig the needle into his skin. Relative to his current situation, the needle felt like a minor nick.

"You can do it." He scoffed to cover how bad the pain was. "But wipe your eyes. I'd rather not have you crying when you operate on me."

Art: 021/100 Themes - Vacation

"Satunea." - Vacation. 21/100 Themes.

Rivek's mother's home city is a gorgeous port town. One summer in their teen years, Rivek, Willow, and Bohren spent a good amount of time there. Originally, Willow had a huge crush on Bohren - and why not? He's good looking and incredibly sweet. (Actually, she couldn't even conceive of ever being attracted to Rivek, who she actually thought he was pretty awkward-looking.)

I can't draw feet.


She didn't want to tell him that she'd fallen on purpose, so that he would carry her back to the beach.

Art: 020/100 Themes - Fortitude

"Fortea." - Fortitude. 20/100 Themes.

Originally during her teen years, Princess Willowren is engaged to Prince Fenne. The marriage is meant to unite their two countries, Brennan and Tyris, against invaders from the north. Unfortunately, an unlucky end befalls the prince before any alliance can be made.

Too much Dungeons and Dragons. All I could think of for this prompt was "Roll a fortitude save." Against poison.