Scribbles: Star Maker

Rain has always been fascinated by the twinkling of their distant glow, and oft dreamt of having dominion over the stars. To be able to create the small ethereal motes that have for so long, been a beacon of wonder and hope for mankind.

While none can claim such mastery, one can always dream, and a dreamer she is.

The rough sketch.

Star Maker: Rain Falle

May have over done it with the glowing motes, but in true night's sky the stars are nigh endless. I'll have to find a less lazy and tacky way of painting stars. Guess I'll be going through more test runs.

Poem: Whale Blimp

The Whale Blimp, a small prototype project for a friend's upcoming birthday. Almost complete, just need a hoop to set up the mobile. Then he'll be sailing for different skies soon!

---

Whale Blimp

The Tail of a whale,

A whale blimp he may be, but no whimp is he, for
he had the heart the size of a whale's!

who wanted to sail--

--And sail he did through the sky,
Up on the clouds, so very high.

A little blimp, in lofty breeze.
To sail the winds, the skies his seas.

The ocean could not contain him, oh no!
For nay, he knew awaited, the limitless sky!

And up, up he went,
On his fins that were airborne meant.

The oceans of past, and skies today, tomorrow, who knows? Perhaps even space,
Because for him, to him, there were no lows.

For he was no whimp!
But a whale blimp!

---

Revision (March 11, 2017

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The Tail of a whale,

who wanted to sail--

Carrying my signature bomb. I like
to blow my friends away.

--And sail he did through the sky,

Up on the clouds, so very high.

A little blimp, in lofty breeze.

To sail the winds, the skies his seas.

The ocean could not contain him, oh no!

For the blue expanse, was above and below.

And he knew awaited, the limitless sky! 

So very high, that he need must fly!

And up, up he went,

On his fins that were airborne meant.

The oceans of past, and skies today, tomorrow, who knows? 

Perhaps even space, for to him, he knew not the lows.

For he was no whimp! 

But a whale blimp!

---

p.s. I wanted to put in a pun about Little Wei being a hot air baleen, but I couldn't find anywhere to put it in.

Bedtime

Silas doesn't like being woken up. Ever. He also doesn't like being kept up.

Silas Curse 

<Not a morning, noon, afternoon, evening, night, midnight, or any other bloody time of day person>

"Lights out jerkwads."

He is the monster who will barge into your room if your lights are still on past 10:00 p.m. and lob pillows at you before smashing your light switch and leaving you in the dark to grope your way into bed. He will also eat all the cookies in your cookie jar out of spite.

If you're still not in bed he'll come back to smack you in the face with a pillow to knock you out "help" you sleep. If a slap in the face from sleep still isn't enough he'll bludgeon you with it until you stop moving. (p.s. These pillows are stuffed with bricks.)

Silas is a little ball of grump and rage.

Scribbles: Dark Knight Storyline

Seeing as it's been a while since I've drawn Silas, I wanted to give him a bit of loving and started drawing him in some awesome pose--until I realized he wasn't at all in character. A bit of tweaking and it turned into a parody of the Dark Knight job quests.

(The Darkness): "Prove to me that you're stronger.
Come on, LET'S DANCE."

Silas: ". . ."

|||||||||||

I STILL LOVE YOU SILAS. YOU'RE STILL MY FAVORITE LALAFELL EVEN IF YOU ARE MISSING YOUR MAN-PARTS.

Scribbles: A Group of Popotoes

Just a few sketches and one start-to-finish painting exploration of some popotoes, though they are sometimes known as Lalafells.

This particular variety of popotoes are known as the Dunesfolk and are very hardy, their eyes have evolved a glassy surface to shield them from the harsh sun.

Estavia Canterbury
"Little Red Lady"

Silas Curse
"Of the Falling Snow"

Morta Fides
"The Resolute"

On a whim to practice motion and coloring, I drew a more detailed picture of Silas running in his Glacial Coat.

Forgot to take a picture prior to sketching in his clothes so no base sketch.

Side by side picture of the sketch and line-art.

Whew, not as much smudging as I had anticipated. The new Pentel Oh!Gel pen and Signo Uni-Ball Micro are wonderful.

Scribbles: Haircut

Neiro hummed to himself and flipped to a new page in his cover journal. He would make a separate entry in the true book later.

The events that had transpired that day would set forth a whole chain, and what he hoped would trigger Si's realization of the preternatural.

February 25, ----

Something strange happened today during our match in the Astral Pods. Up until then things had been normal, as normal as normal could be at the academy. 

Our issued challenge had, remarkably, been accepted by Silas. Granted it was an unconventional one. Esti and I as a duo against Silas in a No-Bounds match of skill.

All had been well as the two of us synchronized, and in a few well played turns, cornered Silas. 

Silas with short hair, having given it a better trim to
touch it up, though it seems to have grown out
again. Mint chocolate chip flavor.

Then it happened. To our amazement, he sliced his own hair to escape Esti's hold, and a trump later, had dispersed us both. Upon awakening from our stasis, suspended as we were. We rose for the customary handshake, yet as Silas rose, long strands fell to the ground. 

Though his expression changes little, he seemed just as astonished as we ourselves were. A insight I can thank to the privilege of being a close friend.

There was little in question as to what happened, but rather how. Astral projections are of a plane of nonexistence, separate from the tangible, or so we believed. A mere projection. 

By our theories, it was impossible for the physical to be influenced by astral manifestation. Yet somehow it did.

As of now the Astral Pods have been classified as restricted, and are in suspended use for fear of bodily harm and other malignant effects not previously observed.

On another note, Silas hasn't dyed his hair in a while so it grew out bi-colored, turns out he's greying. Though he isn't always thorough on dyeing his hair, he's never let us see the color of his roots.

~N

p.s. We're still teasing him for his surfer hair, though Esti has added hipster on top of that and taken to calling him "Mint C. Chip" or "Minty" when pressed for time. He was not amused. 

Neiro chuckled to himself and shut the diary. 

Scribbles: Little Ladybird

Unfinished and in-progress of little Shyloris
bugging out over her new lady attire.

"Ladybug" was my alias as a child, and though I was fond of the name, as tends to happen with many childhood things, it was one that didn't quite carry over.

Scribbles: Chalking it Up

Fooling around with chalk. The same dusty sticks we traced the ground with as kids, only with a much larger color spectrum.

Idle doodle to test the chalk tool.

It was too much fun so I went on playing around:

Reference picture and a quick chalk likeness (x<10 min.)

Scribbles: Diridon Station

A sketch while waiting to board.

Scribbles: Progression

Seeing as I was using a program installed from questionable sources, I'm not too surprised that I ended up with software errs.

Nothing like bashing your head with technology at 3:00 am in the morning, the "witching hour". And you know what they say, "Either violence really doesn't solve anything, or you're just not hitting hard enough." Apparently I hit hard enough. It's sort of possibly maybe working again and here is the progress:

Basic Outline (L. side) and Color Test (R. Side)

Strange that strangers would do stranger things, offering to help me with my software problems. Was a kind thing to do but I highly doubt it'll amount to any. Not in ill meaning, simply that software and programs are such fickle things and differ so much situation to situation. So many settings and even more possibilities and bugs when it comes to the various other programs, OS, etc. etc.

Scribbles: FFXIV

A random drawing related to Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn

Silas Curse, Dunesfolk Lalafell and starting Arcanist

A sketch of a certain pink-haired Miquo'te that reminds me of the Japanese Cherry Blossoms

Scribbles: "Thank You"

Digital art class continues on. And I fumble my way through. If I were to pick my biggest and only disappointment in this class, it would be that I never met my teacher in person. He seems a wonderful man.

Atleast wonderful enough to have lit the candle in the dark room of my mind, illuminating and bringing to light the artistic creativity within.