Had McCarter tonight. With Shakespeare, and The Tempest.
*sigh* Ahh...I needed that. Fuck the reviews in the Ledger; I thought it was wonderful. The director cast the main characters as women, and not men; Duchess Prospera and Queen Alonsa. The reviews called the play well done, but flat and unimaginative, not taking full advantage of the innovation of the use of opposite sexes in the casting. Bastards.
I thought the relationship between Miranda and Prospera (not Prospero!) was fairly well done; they were believable as daughter and mother, not as daughter and father-played-by-woman. The Miranda/Prospera relationship was the least believable of all the gender switches, and it was still well performed. Prospera and Ariel were beautiful- there was a different tone to that relationship, something that was innately more female (not feminine, because that's a word with connotation that lies falsely in this case) and believable than it would have been had there simply been a woman playing Prospero's part, and not an actual character named Prospera.
(I am tired and slightly incoherent.)
Instead of King Alonzo, there was Queen Alonsa, and when Ariel (little geisha girl) sang "Full fathom five thy mother lies..." Ferdinand's reaction was much more honest...It was the interaction between Alonsa and Sebastian, and Prospera and Antonio that truly reflected the innovation of the gender switch. Pairs of brothers would not have acted so; I have a difficult time imagining the parts of Prospero and Alonzo as played by men. It seems natural that they would be women.
That, I think, is telling of how well they did. If it seemed as though they were women playing at being men, then no, they didn't take advantage of the opportunity. I'll admit that at times, Prospera seemed a bit overly male (not masculine, different connotation) but the overall tone was different. Certainly, they could have done more- but that might have broken the integrity of the play.
And damn it all, I liked it, so there.
The guy who played Sganarelle (My wages!) in Don Juan played Trinculo; I believe the guy who played Trisotan in School for Scandal played Stephano. To say that they were utterly hilarious would be understatement; Caliban, too, was wonderful. Ferdinand was damnsexy, the log scene was beyond cute, Miranda was quite clueless, Gonzalo wouldn't shut up, Antonio oozed eeevilness, Sebastian was a moron, but not a half bad guy in the end, and Ariel...Ariel stole the show, with her glitter and her drums and her singing and her geisha-girl fan dance and her gleeful mischief. Beautiful.
It was great, as McCarter plays are won't to be, and as Shakespeare's last effort ought to be. Bravo, and whatnot.
"We are such stuff as dreams are made on..."
Friday, February 28, 2003
Thursday, February 27, 2003
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
Right, so the King's Singers? They sang some random Greek thing that was described as "Old MacDonald Had a Farm, only in Greek, with a different tune."
Right before they sang it, Stephen Connolly said "We could sing it in Turkish, but that would cost you an extra thirty million..."
*falls over and dies, yet again*
And then at the end, he said "oink" and the entire audience fell over and died, because you really just had to be there, but please take my word for it, it was hilarious. And then Paul Phoenix hissed at Phillip Lawson, and that was the end of it. *must buy CDs...*
I'll be going to bed now, before I start to sound even stupider.
Right before they sang it, Stephen Connolly said "We could sing it in Turkish, but that would cost you an extra thirty million..."
*falls over and dies, yet again*
And then at the end, he said "oink" and the entire audience fell over and died, because you really just had to be there, but please take my word for it, it was hilarious. And then Paul Phoenix hissed at Phillip Lawson, and that was the end of it. *must buy CDs...*
I'll be going to bed now, before I start to sound even stupider.
Sunday, February 23, 2003
We used to stare at the sky
You and I
Wondering what it would be like to fly
We used to say
That we would fly away
Off into the wind some day
And I would never come back down
We used to wander and roam
Far from on our own
Through stream and field and mud and loam
When my world began to crack
For your feeling her lack
And insisting we turn back
How could I not blame you?
*
I would have painted you with dragons,
And cried the skies to see her smile.
When we both grew wings to fly on:
Black and white and blue and gold;
The tattered edges of my heart
Bled jealous acid in my soul.
And as my spirit grew too heavy
For wings to lift me from the ground,
I, who once ruled, have lost the sky.
But yours alone, are earth and moon
Yours alone is she, as you are hers
And I; I have nothing to call my own.
-------------------------
Two, for Cain (FFIV); because a character that has been with me for so very, very long (coming on twelve years now, I suppose...), even if he isn't my character, deserves a little something once in a while. If he weren't so difficult to write, there would be more, despite my aversion to writing fanfic. Both are from his point of view; the first, about Cecil, the second, Cecil and Rosa. I could write pages about the relationship between the three of them, but I'll spare you that. Please note, however, that they're both primarily about being jealous; first, of Rosa, for taking away his best friend and brother; second, of Cecil, for being so irritatingly perfect and for having Rosa; and third, of both of them, for having each other and everything else they ever wanted. It's the prodigal son dillemma; why does the wayward child get all the breaks when the other one gets exiled for speaking his mind? (I'll stop now, since I could go on for a while, and it's all too obscure for anyone to care; maybe some other time.)
An experiment in threes with symmetry, and again with threes and slant rhyme. Written solely because of the "...painted you with dragons" image was just too perfect to not use, and because Cain was begging for attention. Don't ask me what it means, of course; I just thought it sounded cool.
You and I
Wondering what it would be like to fly
We used to say
That we would fly away
Off into the wind some day
And I would never come back down
We used to wander and roam
Far from on our own
Through stream and field and mud and loam
When my world began to crack
For your feeling her lack
And insisting we turn back
How could I not blame you?
*
I would have painted you with dragons,
And cried the skies to see her smile.
When we both grew wings to fly on:
Black and white and blue and gold;
The tattered edges of my heart
Bled jealous acid in my soul.
And as my spirit grew too heavy
For wings to lift me from the ground,
I, who once ruled, have lost the sky.
But yours alone, are earth and moon
Yours alone is she, as you are hers
And I; I have nothing to call my own.
-------------------------
Two, for Cain (FFIV); because a character that has been with me for so very, very long (coming on twelve years now, I suppose...), even if he isn't my character, deserves a little something once in a while. If he weren't so difficult to write, there would be more, despite my aversion to writing fanfic. Both are from his point of view; the first, about Cecil, the second, Cecil and Rosa. I could write pages about the relationship between the three of them, but I'll spare you that. Please note, however, that they're both primarily about being jealous; first, of Rosa, for taking away his best friend and brother; second, of Cecil, for being so irritatingly perfect and for having Rosa; and third, of both of them, for having each other and everything else they ever wanted. It's the prodigal son dillemma; why does the wayward child get all the breaks when the other one gets exiled for speaking his mind? (I'll stop now, since I could go on for a while, and it's all too obscure for anyone to care; maybe some other time.)
An experiment in threes with symmetry, and again with threes and slant rhyme. Written solely because of the "...painted you with dragons" image was just too perfect to not use, and because Cain was begging for attention. Don't ask me what it means, of course; I just thought it sounded cool.
Friday, February 21, 2003
ignore the previous post, if you please; devart's being bitchy.
A bunch of characters popped into my head the other day...coincidentally enough, they all met at a strip club. Why that's a coincidence, I'm not entirely sure, but for the moment I need to get Jays to stop blushing (that fair complection, gets him every time), Z'ev to put his clothes back on, and Amara to stop it with the damn southern accent. And whatever else she's doing, since it's probably illegal in thirty seven states and the District of Columbia.
They don't even have a proper story, but Z'ev and Amara work in a bar/club called The Aurifex, and Jays works for a freelance detective agency. I think he's related to Isoka from the Crazy Clown Story, but only distantly so I can make references to the circus or histories of mental illness. I guess their story will eventually involve a serial killer or mob connections, and strippers ending up dead in alleys and other cheerful things like that, but currently the only things going on are Z'ev loosing articles of clothing (he gets a bit enthusiastic, you see, and his shirt or his tie usually ends up somewhere on the other side of the bar- once, one of his gloves ended up in somebody's drink...) and Amara embarassing Jays horribly. Amara's good at that, and Jays gets embarassed really easily.
I think some higher deity has it out for me- either that, or I'm just really, really repressed. (One can probably tell that I'm not thinking straight at the moment. Johnny Bravo is playing in the background, and today I had someone explain to me an episode of Venture Boys. I hope that the rest of the world has not been exposed to Venture Boys, because even listening to the abbreviated version has made me feel violated. To quote T, "And he thought he could beat the system!" *cringe* So dirty...)
Attention span of a gna- today there was a dance assembly for black history month that kicked much ass! Made me splee all over the place, between the drummers and the masked dancer (so. feckin'. cool.) and the happy dancers and the guys with the fancy footwork and the skinny white kid who could break like a raver- 'twas awesome. And it's very difficult to type one-handed. Stupid cat. *sigh*
Really, I'm still just avoiding my email. I've signed in, you see, but have not yet actually looked at my inbox...
A bunch of characters popped into my head the other day...coincidentally enough, they all met at a strip club. Why that's a coincidence, I'm not entirely sure, but for the moment I need to get Jays to stop blushing (that fair complection, gets him every time), Z'ev to put his clothes back on, and Amara to stop it with the damn southern accent. And whatever else she's doing, since it's probably illegal in thirty seven states and the District of Columbia.
They don't even have a proper story, but Z'ev and Amara work in a bar/club called The Aurifex, and Jays works for a freelance detective agency. I think he's related to Isoka from the Crazy Clown Story, but only distantly so I can make references to the circus or histories of mental illness. I guess their story will eventually involve a serial killer or mob connections, and strippers ending up dead in alleys and other cheerful things like that, but currently the only things going on are Z'ev loosing articles of clothing (he gets a bit enthusiastic, you see, and his shirt or his tie usually ends up somewhere on the other side of the bar- once, one of his gloves ended up in somebody's drink...) and Amara embarassing Jays horribly. Amara's good at that, and Jays gets embarassed really easily.
I think some higher deity has it out for me- either that, or I'm just really, really repressed. (One can probably tell that I'm not thinking straight at the moment. Johnny Bravo is playing in the background, and today I had someone explain to me an episode of Venture Boys. I hope that the rest of the world has not been exposed to Venture Boys, because even listening to the abbreviated version has made me feel violated. To quote T, "And he thought he could beat the system!" *cringe* So dirty...)
Attention span of a gna- today there was a dance assembly for black history month that kicked much ass! Made me splee all over the place, between the drummers and the masked dancer (so. feckin'. cool.) and the happy dancers and the guys with the fancy footwork and the skinny white kid who could break like a raver- 'twas awesome. And it's very difficult to type one-handed. Stupid cat. *sigh*
Really, I'm still just avoiding my email. I've signed in, you see, but have not yet actually looked at my inbox...
Here we are: Opera House
I likes the draperies, and I likes her eyes. Wonder what show she's watching...
I likes the draperies, and I likes her eyes. Wonder what show she's watching...
Art related stuff; will have new picture done soon, as all I must do is clean it up. Only problem is, I hate cleaning pictures, especially when there's thirteen layers and I can't figure out which one the little doodle in the corner is on. *_* My eyes are blearing...
I'm quite proud of the coloring- none of it was done using the dodge and burn tool, it's all color-picked highlights and shades. Wish I'd paid more attention in art class when we were going over the color wheel...I love the colors, but the actual lineart is crap, utter crap. I also made another attempt at scenery, and I'm too tired to fix the damned drapes. *_* I get sick of a picture when I'm almost done with it.
However, I have nothing else to do right now, since I'm avoiding checking my email...
Tomorrow I'll be going to a craft fair in Baltimore, so there will be much arting things to talk about when we get back...I am quite excited. Yay, art. Maybe I'll be a crafter when I grow up. I'll make candles, or something, and write cheesy poetry on them.
Hey, people actually buy that kinda stuff, lay off...:) *sigh* Back to excessive drapery...
I'm quite proud of the coloring- none of it was done using the dodge and burn tool, it's all color-picked highlights and shades. Wish I'd paid more attention in art class when we were going over the color wheel...I love the colors, but the actual lineart is crap, utter crap. I also made another attempt at scenery, and I'm too tired to fix the damned drapes. *_* I get sick of a picture when I'm almost done with it.
However, I have nothing else to do right now, since I'm avoiding checking my email...
Tomorrow I'll be going to a craft fair in Baltimore, so there will be much arting things to talk about when we get back...I am quite excited. Yay, art. Maybe I'll be a crafter when I grow up. I'll make candles, or something, and write cheesy poetry on them.
Hey, people actually buy that kinda stuff, lay off...:) *sigh* Back to excessive drapery...
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
"Well, when fish started swimming across my vision, offering me cigars, I decided it was a good idea to go to sleep."
"Cigar smoking Babel-fish? Hmm. That could be potentially disastrous to your inner ear."
"That's what I said."
"Why don't you take Sanskrit to round out your dead languages? Or Aramaic?"
"I was thinking Aramaic..."
"People actually still speak that, though."
"Damn. All right, try harder to find me a dead language to learn."
The brother watches Gilmore Girls. He watches, and plays the Gilmore Girls Drinking Game. In his words, "I'll leave you to figure out the rules."
"So, three drinks every time Lorelai does something sensible? Or one sip every snarky comment- but that would get you very drunk, very quickly."
"I see you have figured out the basic principal behind drinking games! You're all ready for college."
"So, what did the sea urchin look like?"
"Squishy. But that was pretty much everything on my plate."
"And then I had ginger chicken, and it was gingery enough to make you go 'damn, don't need to add ginger to that'."
"I doubt that."
"I don't, and I know you eat raw ginger."
"YOU SUCK!"
Because that's what a typical convo with the brother eventually leads me to shout. *giggle*
"Cigar smoking Babel-fish? Hmm. That could be potentially disastrous to your inner ear."
"That's what I said."
"Why don't you take Sanskrit to round out your dead languages? Or Aramaic?"
"I was thinking Aramaic..."
"People actually still speak that, though."
"Damn. All right, try harder to find me a dead language to learn."
The brother watches Gilmore Girls. He watches, and plays the Gilmore Girls Drinking Game. In his words, "I'll leave you to figure out the rules."
"So, three drinks every time Lorelai does something sensible? Or one sip every snarky comment- but that would get you very drunk, very quickly."
"I see you have figured out the basic principal behind drinking games! You're all ready for college."
"So, what did the sea urchin look like?"
"Squishy. But that was pretty much everything on my plate."
"And then I had ginger chicken, and it was gingery enough to make you go 'damn, don't need to add ginger to that'."
"I doubt that."
"I don't, and I know you eat raw ginger."
"YOU SUCK!"
Because that's what a typical convo with the brother eventually leads me to shout. *giggle*
Thursday, February 13, 2003
There was a note taped to the window. Zyn could see it from Von's bed, which smelled faintly of lavender and faintly of sunshine on a cloudy day in July. Von had left for work over an hour ago; he'd be seeing Cata and Ari'i at the office, and the three of them would probably talk about last night in hushed whispers over coffee, or, in Ari'i's case, that expensive chai stuff she liked. They'd talk about him in hushed whispers over caffeine and stale office danishes.
But then he remembered the blank horror in Ari'i's eyes when Imbrium materialized, and the catatonic cast to her stare when it was over. She probably wouldn't be showing up at work today- nor would Cata, with a broken arm and a puncture wound that had only by chance avoided her internal organs. Even with Nocturne holding her together, she wouldn't be able to walk today. They were all separated today. The thought sent a flare of panic straight to the back of his mind, where ancient memories and ancient fire slept. Moero whispered something in his sleep, then subsided. Zyn concentrated on his breathing until he felt it safe to think again.
Eventually, he would have to let Moero wake up. Moero was the only one who truly knew who he was, both before Imbrium had taken away "Zyn Margols" and replaced him with someone else, and before...
Von remembered the most- he remembered Binzel and Mikrel, the swamp and the vampires, the nobles and the assassinations. He also remembered the day Aleksandyr Vassa arrived at his door, and the day he died. All he'd said was that Gavin and Aleks had been friends- but beyond that, he would say no more. Von remembered the most, even tough he'd been introduced the most recently to the truth behind all the strangeness. It was odd, but Von was older, and wiser, in his disarmingly absentminded way- and, perhaps it was simply that he was Von, and in the short time that he'd known the other man, Zyn had grown to understand that you took Von for granted and didn't question these things. Zyn had far too many questions, though.
Zyn's thoughts turned towards the slightly uncomfortable subject of the pictures- they were everywhere in the apartment. Pictures of Von and other people, laughing women and grinning men. "Old girlfriends," Von had said flippantly. "Old boyfriends," somewhat less flippantly.
He wasn't sure what bothered him the most; the sheer number of pictures; the very fact that there were pictures, displayed prominently all over the apartment; or the fact that a good half of them were pictures of men. Zyn wondered if Cata would be disappointed- it was obvious, the way she followed Von around, the way she fawned over his words. There was a memory that wasn't his- it was something that belonged quite unmistakeably to Aleks, that involved a boy beaten bloody to the edge of consciousness and a sword and a shoulder offered to lean on, to cry on. Von refused to answer any questions about Gavin and Aleks, the same way he refused to answer any questions about the people in the pictures.
Moero would know, but Zyn couldn't take the risk of speaking to the demon- not here, in Von's apartment. Not in a place filled with memories and flammable materials. Not without Imbrium and Umbra to stand guard, and not without Cata. When the others were ready to face him again, and he could count on their protection, then he would speak to the shadow creature. But not before. Not until they forgave him.
There was still a note taped to the window; Zyn forced himself out of bed. Lavender had always made his nose itch. The view from Von's window was spectacular. It was easy to forget that he was a partner in his law firm, and not the flighty accountant he frequently resembled. The University quad stretched out beneath him, looking like a handful of jewels thrown haphazardly across a sheet of emerald velvet. To one side, the sprawl of the city meandered comfortably along the river. Zyn pulled the piece of paper off the window.
Luck was never your strong suit. It wasn't Von's disorganized scrawl- the handwriting was neat, clipped, authoritative, and frighteningly familiar.
Luck wasn't his area of expertise. That was Von's place, with Umbra. Strength and stoicism were Cata's and Nocturne's, while emotion and manipulation were Imbium's, and now Ari'i's.
Below, on the quad, one of the old university buildings blossomed into a rose of debris and destruction and dirty black smoke. He could hear the screaming from Von's window. Zyn sank to his knees and covered his face. Luck wasn't his strong suit, but destruction was.
Cata, I'm sorry...
---------------
Song of Shadows stuff. Poor, poor Zyn- he gets just as abused as Aleks, only he doesn't have anyone like Gavin to fall back on when things go to hell. About the relationships; Aleks and Gavin weren't lovers, and Zyn and Von won't be anything more than friends. In the Praelude, Giselle wanted Sable who wanted Gavin who wanted Aleks who married Giselle. Aleks was never quite sure who or what he wanted, which is why he ended up miserable and lonely with Giselle. Love polygons. Ain't they great? In the second part of the story, the relationships will work themselves out, somehow. Zyn and Cata will end up together, though it may take a very, very long time. Not sure what Von or Ari'i will end up doing- Von will almost certainly remain single, since he's incapable of maintaining a relationship with anyone (hence all the pictures- Von has so. many. issues.) Ari'i...I dunno. Maybe she'll find herself a nice boy to chain to her bed and keep in a leather collar; that's the sort of thing she'd do, just for kicks. (They all have so. many. issues.) Maybe Imbrium will find some much needed mental stability in her. Who knows.
Zyn's such an angsty little fuck up, though...there's just so much that's wrong with him!
...there's chocolate on my sleeve, and I'm going to be sick if I so much as look at another pretzel any time soon. Blaaaaarg.
But then he remembered the blank horror in Ari'i's eyes when Imbrium materialized, and the catatonic cast to her stare when it was over. She probably wouldn't be showing up at work today- nor would Cata, with a broken arm and a puncture wound that had only by chance avoided her internal organs. Even with Nocturne holding her together, she wouldn't be able to walk today. They were all separated today. The thought sent a flare of panic straight to the back of his mind, where ancient memories and ancient fire slept. Moero whispered something in his sleep, then subsided. Zyn concentrated on his breathing until he felt it safe to think again.
Eventually, he would have to let Moero wake up. Moero was the only one who truly knew who he was, both before Imbrium had taken away "Zyn Margols" and replaced him with someone else, and before...
Von remembered the most- he remembered Binzel and Mikrel, the swamp and the vampires, the nobles and the assassinations. He also remembered the day Aleksandyr Vassa arrived at his door, and the day he died. All he'd said was that Gavin and Aleks had been friends- but beyond that, he would say no more. Von remembered the most, even tough he'd been introduced the most recently to the truth behind all the strangeness. It was odd, but Von was older, and wiser, in his disarmingly absentminded way- and, perhaps it was simply that he was Von, and in the short time that he'd known the other man, Zyn had grown to understand that you took Von for granted and didn't question these things. Zyn had far too many questions, though.
Zyn's thoughts turned towards the slightly uncomfortable subject of the pictures- they were everywhere in the apartment. Pictures of Von and other people, laughing women and grinning men. "Old girlfriends," Von had said flippantly. "Old boyfriends," somewhat less flippantly.
He wasn't sure what bothered him the most; the sheer number of pictures; the very fact that there were pictures, displayed prominently all over the apartment; or the fact that a good half of them were pictures of men. Zyn wondered if Cata would be disappointed- it was obvious, the way she followed Von around, the way she fawned over his words. There was a memory that wasn't his- it was something that belonged quite unmistakeably to Aleks, that involved a boy beaten bloody to the edge of consciousness and a sword and a shoulder offered to lean on, to cry on. Von refused to answer any questions about Gavin and Aleks, the same way he refused to answer any questions about the people in the pictures.
Moero would know, but Zyn couldn't take the risk of speaking to the demon- not here, in Von's apartment. Not in a place filled with memories and flammable materials. Not without Imbrium and Umbra to stand guard, and not without Cata. When the others were ready to face him again, and he could count on their protection, then he would speak to the shadow creature. But not before. Not until they forgave him.
There was still a note taped to the window; Zyn forced himself out of bed. Lavender had always made his nose itch. The view from Von's window was spectacular. It was easy to forget that he was a partner in his law firm, and not the flighty accountant he frequently resembled. The University quad stretched out beneath him, looking like a handful of jewels thrown haphazardly across a sheet of emerald velvet. To one side, the sprawl of the city meandered comfortably along the river. Zyn pulled the piece of paper off the window.
Luck was never your strong suit. It wasn't Von's disorganized scrawl- the handwriting was neat, clipped, authoritative, and frighteningly familiar.
Luck wasn't his area of expertise. That was Von's place, with Umbra. Strength and stoicism were Cata's and Nocturne's, while emotion and manipulation were Imbium's, and now Ari'i's.
Below, on the quad, one of the old university buildings blossomed into a rose of debris and destruction and dirty black smoke. He could hear the screaming from Von's window. Zyn sank to his knees and covered his face. Luck wasn't his strong suit, but destruction was.
Cata, I'm sorry...
---------------
Song of Shadows stuff. Poor, poor Zyn- he gets just as abused as Aleks, only he doesn't have anyone like Gavin to fall back on when things go to hell. About the relationships; Aleks and Gavin weren't lovers, and Zyn and Von won't be anything more than friends. In the Praelude, Giselle wanted Sable who wanted Gavin who wanted Aleks who married Giselle. Aleks was never quite sure who or what he wanted, which is why he ended up miserable and lonely with Giselle. Love polygons. Ain't they great? In the second part of the story, the relationships will work themselves out, somehow. Zyn and Cata will end up together, though it may take a very, very long time. Not sure what Von or Ari'i will end up doing- Von will almost certainly remain single, since he's incapable of maintaining a relationship with anyone (hence all the pictures- Von has so. many. issues.) Ari'i...I dunno. Maybe she'll find herself a nice boy to chain to her bed and keep in a leather collar; that's the sort of thing she'd do, just for kicks. (They all have so. many. issues.) Maybe Imbrium will find some much needed mental stability in her. Who knows.
Zyn's such an angsty little fuck up, though...there's just so much that's wrong with him!
...there's chocolate on my sleeve, and I'm going to be sick if I so much as look at another pretzel any time soon. Blaaaaarg.
Monday, February 10, 2003
There was blood everywhere, but Hunter was sure none of it was his. Reasonably sure, anyway. Almost positive, in fact. Almost.
They'd lost Nenia after the first explosion; she was somewhere beneath the rubble, but it would take too long to dig her out. They didn't have time- Rethen didn't have time. Hunter, on the other hand, was expendable- and he knew, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, that Rethen was fully aware of that fact.
"Hunter-" the deity's eyes were glowing; all around them, the walls groaned. "Hunter, I can't stay here. I-"
"Save it, Rethy. Just shut up and go, I'll try to find Nenia and get her out of here." There was blood everywhere; whose was it? Nenia had been right beside them, until the blast had separated them...
Rethen's golden eyes turned black, and his ears flattened to the sides of his skull. Hunter's vision blurred for a moment; Rethen was losing control of his shape. "Hunter, don't you dare. I'm not leaving you behind."
"And I can't follow you where you need to go, Rethen." The light brightened; he flinched. All at once, Rethen was a boy again, too skinny; then he was a girl, slender and pretty; for a moment, he was an old man, stooped and weary. Then he was a boy, but with scales sprouting from skin, silver-green and luminous. Then he was a dragon, huge and imposing, a wall of scales and power and ancient, ancient wisdom reaching up...
Hunter's gaze followed the expanse of Rethen's god form. The tips of his folded wings disappeared into the shadows around the ceiling; another blast rocked the ground and sent dust and gravel pouring from the walls in cloudy rivers. "Oh..." He'd never seen Rethen like this before; Nenia had, when she'd woken the child-god from his slumber, but that was long before they'd ever met.
A claw bigger than he was curled into a fist, sheathed in ruby light. Hunter...I have no need of this, where I must go. Keep it safe. You trusted me not to break yours- now I beg that you not let mine shatter. The claw opened and Hunter could see a gem there, a ruby the size of his two fists together. Take it, please, and hurry.
He practically had to climb into the dragon's claw to grasp the gem; there were mountains smaller than Rethen right now. The gem sparkled in the light from Rethen's eyes; glinting from a million facets, Hunter could see a tiny golden spark in the heart of it. "Rethen, what is this?"
My heart.
Hunter understood all at once- but it was too late. Rethen unfurled his wings and disappeared in a shimmer of incandescent light. He stared at the gem, feeling that sick sensation in the pit of his stomach deepen. The walls rumbled again, and he nearly lost his balance on the rubble. "Shit. Shit. This is not good, not good at all...damn you, Rethen Willowmarch, now is not the time to be doing this to me..." He stuffed the gem into his pouch and scrambled across the broken rocks.
Another section of the cavern collapsed when he nearly tripped over a scaly hand. The scales were silver tinged with pink- fish blood. Nenia. Hunter began to unearth the buried Seaqueen, praying to the only god who'd ever looked out for him- Rethen. He prayed desperately that they hadn't run out of time.
-----------------
*blinkblink* Oi...funny how these scenes are so much less awkward in my head...*sigh* Rethen's a shapeshifting dragon god, Nenia's a fish person and Rethen's adopted mother, and Hunter's an ex-rentboy-thief-con-artist turned adventurer. Don't ask me how they ended up together, because I couldn't really tell you. Don't ask me what's going on here, either, because I haven't worked out any plot for them...
They'd lost Nenia after the first explosion; she was somewhere beneath the rubble, but it would take too long to dig her out. They didn't have time- Rethen didn't have time. Hunter, on the other hand, was expendable- and he knew, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, that Rethen was fully aware of that fact.
"Hunter-" the deity's eyes were glowing; all around them, the walls groaned. "Hunter, I can't stay here. I-"
"Save it, Rethy. Just shut up and go, I'll try to find Nenia and get her out of here." There was blood everywhere; whose was it? Nenia had been right beside them, until the blast had separated them...
Rethen's golden eyes turned black, and his ears flattened to the sides of his skull. Hunter's vision blurred for a moment; Rethen was losing control of his shape. "Hunter, don't you dare. I'm not leaving you behind."
"And I can't follow you where you need to go, Rethen." The light brightened; he flinched. All at once, Rethen was a boy again, too skinny; then he was a girl, slender and pretty; for a moment, he was an old man, stooped and weary. Then he was a boy, but with scales sprouting from skin, silver-green and luminous. Then he was a dragon, huge and imposing, a wall of scales and power and ancient, ancient wisdom reaching up...
Hunter's gaze followed the expanse of Rethen's god form. The tips of his folded wings disappeared into the shadows around the ceiling; another blast rocked the ground and sent dust and gravel pouring from the walls in cloudy rivers. "Oh..." He'd never seen Rethen like this before; Nenia had, when she'd woken the child-god from his slumber, but that was long before they'd ever met.
A claw bigger than he was curled into a fist, sheathed in ruby light. Hunter...I have no need of this, where I must go. Keep it safe. You trusted me not to break yours- now I beg that you not let mine shatter. The claw opened and Hunter could see a gem there, a ruby the size of his two fists together. Take it, please, and hurry.
He practically had to climb into the dragon's claw to grasp the gem; there were mountains smaller than Rethen right now. The gem sparkled in the light from Rethen's eyes; glinting from a million facets, Hunter could see a tiny golden spark in the heart of it. "Rethen, what is this?"
My heart.
Hunter understood all at once- but it was too late. Rethen unfurled his wings and disappeared in a shimmer of incandescent light. He stared at the gem, feeling that sick sensation in the pit of his stomach deepen. The walls rumbled again, and he nearly lost his balance on the rubble. "Shit. Shit. This is not good, not good at all...damn you, Rethen Willowmarch, now is not the time to be doing this to me..." He stuffed the gem into his pouch and scrambled across the broken rocks.
Another section of the cavern collapsed when he nearly tripped over a scaly hand. The scales were silver tinged with pink- fish blood. Nenia. Hunter began to unearth the buried Seaqueen, praying to the only god who'd ever looked out for him- Rethen. He prayed desperately that they hadn't run out of time.
-----------------
*blinkblink* Oi...funny how these scenes are so much less awkward in my head...*sigh* Rethen's a shapeshifting dragon god, Nenia's a fish person and Rethen's adopted mother, and Hunter's an ex-rentboy-thief-con-artist turned adventurer. Don't ask me how they ended up together, because I couldn't really tell you. Don't ask me what's going on here, either, because I haven't worked out any plot for them...
Sunday, February 09, 2003
Finally! After several days of sketching and fiddling and coloring and cursing my computer, my tablet, and the cat (can't draw when she's trying to eat the pen...), I have finished the damn picture!
Shiny. Oh, so shiny, and those stars were a pain in the ass to do by hand, as were the lines of the brooch thingy, and the shading on the jewels and- aw, fork. The whole thing was a pain in the ass, but I really wish my printer could manage things this large and of this sort of quality, so I could stick it on the fridge and show off. Because yes, I am showing off. I'm an arrogant snob like that. There are a lot of mistakes, like Ereshkigal's foot, and the light source (there's three or four of them...*d'oi*), but I'm still quite pleased. Apparently, so long as I don't actually try to do scenery, I can manage backgrounds...
It's Innana and Ereshkigal, sister goddesses with opposite polarities and whatnot...obviously, one of them is fire and the other is ice (though you'll just have to take my word on the ice...). They represent life and death in Babylonian mythology; Queen of Heaven and Queen of Hell. In the Seventh Hour, they're just sisters, and they hate each other, and Innana is responsible for the Barren while Ereshkigal is responsible for Marduk's betrayal...only I haven't written that yet. Don't know when I will.
Please note, that's Innana, and not Asphodel. Asphodel would've been the color of Innana's background, but otherwise they look pretty much the same.
*tired, gleeful, eyes watering* Too much staring at a computer screen...
Shiny. Oh, so shiny, and those stars were a pain in the ass to do by hand, as were the lines of the brooch thingy, and the shading on the jewels and- aw, fork. The whole thing was a pain in the ass, but I really wish my printer could manage things this large and of this sort of quality, so I could stick it on the fridge and show off. Because yes, I am showing off. I'm an arrogant snob like that. There are a lot of mistakes, like Ereshkigal's foot, and the light source (there's three or four of them...*d'oi*), but I'm still quite pleased. Apparently, so long as I don't actually try to do scenery, I can manage backgrounds...
It's Innana and Ereshkigal, sister goddesses with opposite polarities and whatnot...obviously, one of them is fire and the other is ice (though you'll just have to take my word on the ice...). They represent life and death in Babylonian mythology; Queen of Heaven and Queen of Hell. In the Seventh Hour, they're just sisters, and they hate each other, and Innana is responsible for the Barren while Ereshkigal is responsible for Marduk's betrayal...only I haven't written that yet. Don't know when I will.
Please note, that's Innana, and not Asphodel. Asphodel would've been the color of Innana's background, but otherwise they look pretty much the same.
*tired, gleeful, eyes watering* Too much staring at a computer screen...
And look: she hears voices
they whisper in the dark and fall upon keen ears that hear too much when not enough has been said
And look: she walks
alone in the rain beneath the clouds but none can spare so much as an umbrella and there is no open door for her no shelter from the storm
And look: she sings
songs that mean nothing unless you want them to mean something unless you think they ought to mean nothing because that's all they mean in the end
And look: she's gone
you looked away and a moment later with the voices and the rain and the singing she left because she can only exist when all eyes are on her even yours
Now close your eyes: she never left at all
i'll be here in darkness and in silence and in rain until you can look at me no longer
*blinkblink* must...go...to...slee-*snore*
they whisper in the dark and fall upon keen ears that hear too much when not enough has been said
And look: she walks
alone in the rain beneath the clouds but none can spare so much as an umbrella and there is no open door for her no shelter from the storm
And look: she sings
songs that mean nothing unless you want them to mean something unless you think they ought to mean nothing because that's all they mean in the end
And look: she's gone
you looked away and a moment later with the voices and the rain and the singing she left because she can only exist when all eyes are on her even yours
Now close your eyes: she never left at all
i'll be here in darkness and in silence and in rain until you can look at me no longer
*blinkblink* must...go...to...slee-*snore*
Saturday, February 08, 2003
Hello-Ilica
*stare*
*drool*
*dies*
Japanese. Art. *dies again*
*stares at picture for several minutes*
Tattoos. *paradigm shifts and will never think of that character quite the same way again*
*goes to happy afterworld of pretty Japanese fanart and lives out eternity in a state of bliss*
*stare*
*drool*
*dies*
Japanese. Art. *dies again*
*stares at picture for several minutes*
Tattoos. *paradigm shifts and will never think of that character quite the same way again*
*goes to happy afterworld of pretty Japanese fanart and lives out eternity in a state of bliss*
I found myself in an browsing through random Japanese FF4 art sites today...very random of me, I know. I really must work on that whole not-being-able-to-read-Japanese thing one of these days...
Anyway. Love Sweet Dream. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful FF4 art, primarily of Cain (yes, with a C, damnit!) and Cecil, but there are a few Rydia and Edge pics floating around, as well. Also, majorly nifty site layout that made me giggle madly and click on random things just to see the little plane go *whoosh*. :)
Naturally, I now feel the urge to draw Cain, but I haven't the talent. *sniffle* And, I'm still working on the pinup pictures of Innana and Ereshkigal. (Eyah, I know, they're not really pinups, but that's what they remind me of, and it amuses me, so...) Ereshkigal's hair despises me, and I've no idea how her clothing works. I don't think it does, but that's probably the point. Maybe I'll post the unfinished pic here...coloring is a bitch, and that's all I've got to say.
I also really want to draw Sam and Kaylana and Arcie and Valerie from Villains by Necessity. That book is responsible for a large number of characters and story ideas that I have kicking around. Foxbird's story, for instance, is completely and totally the result of my reading Villains. And I swear, the book has the best comebacks to short jokes ever. But they only seem great if you're short, giggly, and a dork. So, mostly just me. But that's beside the point.
Anyway. Love Sweet Dream. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful FF4 art, primarily of Cain (yes, with a C, damnit!) and Cecil, but there are a few Rydia and Edge pics floating around, as well. Also, majorly nifty site layout that made me giggle madly and click on random things just to see the little plane go *whoosh*. :)
Naturally, I now feel the urge to draw Cain, but I haven't the talent. *sniffle* And, I'm still working on the pinup pictures of Innana and Ereshkigal. (Eyah, I know, they're not really pinups, but that's what they remind me of, and it amuses me, so...) Ereshkigal's hair despises me, and I've no idea how her clothing works. I don't think it does, but that's probably the point. Maybe I'll post the unfinished pic here...coloring is a bitch, and that's all I've got to say.
I also really want to draw Sam and Kaylana and Arcie and Valerie from Villains by Necessity. That book is responsible for a large number of characters and story ideas that I have kicking around. Foxbird's story, for instance, is completely and totally the result of my reading Villains. And I swear, the book has the best comebacks to short jokes ever. But they only seem great if you're short, giggly, and a dork. So, mostly just me. But that's beside the point.