Revisions: Cloudstealth and Ryuki Aurion

When I had sent them the unfinished piece, I had been in a slight rush, overeager and excited, to show them what I had. The piece was naturally rushed and less than stellar, and I've learnt my lesson that a piece unfinished is a piece best kept to oneself.

Ryuki had been fond of it and pasted it to her profile, and while it is flattering, incredibly so, I still wish I had touched it up a little more. It wasn't within my expectations to see it pasted and used. That being said I'm not sure how to bring it up and have in the end, settled for touching up on it myself and knowing that I could've done better. Still can but again, I'm impatient.

The revisions aren't too obvious and I've still a long way to go, but for now I'm relieved. I'll probably revise it again once I get the motivation back.

They make a cute couple.

Umbral Night

Umbral Night

The submission date is today, and there the drawing was. Unfortunately, it seems I didn't finish in time, and submitted the entry as was.

Some have posted up their drawings on social networks such as Tumblr, sharing their piece with others. It would suffice to say I have a very slim chance indeed of landing in the top 5, but nonetheless, I had a lot of fun with the project. It's probably one of the first pieces which I found truly satisfying, and though not completed, finished.

The theme of the Heavenswards Transition contest is to show how your character is doing in Heavenward, and how they've changed, new gear, class, and so on.

Umbral Night basically shows Silas practicing his arcane spells, the shadow behind him his old class prior to Heavensward. In going into 3.0, he chooses to go back to his starting class. On a whim I chose to go back to arcanist, a decision that has likely changed . Heading into the future while looking to the past.

Honestly though, it is a rather messy finish to this piece. I hadn't finished the shading, so the shadow looks a tad too prominent and out of place. His weapon is meant to be the Hive Grimoire as well, and I hadn't finished the glow yet.

It would suffice to say that I'd be amazed (overjoyed first, but also amazed) if I actually managed to place top 5 among all those other more practiced artists who have also likely put in more time into their work and touching it up to a greater extent.

Contest Entry: FFXIV Heavensward Contest

This'll be the first time I enter an art contest.

As expected I'm nervous. Though slim, one still hopes and tries. Simple though the prompt was, I feel I've learned plenty. Still haven't fully transitioned into the border-less style, but I've compromised some with colored lines instead.

Despite all attempts at sportsmanship, I find myself fervently hoping for the prize that will be gifted to the top 5 pieces judged: The FFXIV: A Realm Reborn, The Art of Eorzea.

Signed by the director no less.

I cannot express just how eager I am to prie open the the cover and take in the concept art, for there is much to learn and study from even the guidelines, if not more so, than the full piece itself.

The artist in me admires the work and details that have been worked into the game I so enjoy. The submission date is only a couple days away, I hope I make it.

It's not finished yet, but it's coming along nicely, if I do say so myself.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Dog Day Shorts - Soft and Fluffy

Shyloris had been many things, and she remembered all of them. An alchemist who studied at the Malarkurious Parline Academy, a prestigious and wonderful school it had been. The daughter of a wealthy entrepreneur, an office worker, an instructor at a daycare, a soldier and guard who toiled at the Great Walls, a runaway from the Salem Witch Trials, a salvager of old wreckage as had been common across the veil, the list was endless.

Happy times!

All of the lives she lived, she treasured in memory. And in every one, she would bring back a memory-piece, that held, in whatever life she lived, of dearest sentimental value.

At least once per lifetime she made a point of visiting that one place. Buried in the hollow trunk of an ancient gnarled oak tree, it's roots twisted and rough, but an amazing hiding spot nonetheless.

And so it had been that day that she, for she had been female that previous life, took to the tree, bag in hand and a cozy maroon scarf around his neck. 

Shyloris could not have anticipated what came next. Not in the experience of a thousand lifetimes.

The timelocked child had made it to the grove, past the unnaturally large dandelions that signaled his passage into the veil.

It was there that she met him.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Dog Day Shorts - Matcha Latte

Shyloris sat in the alcove, legs drawn up to his chest to cradle the sketchbook as he watched the streams of sunlight flittering through the brisk morning and dewy grass.

A few yards away there strung a blown glass bird feeder, from which several crepuscular birds were finishing, and the diurnals just arriving.

"Life is the art of drawing without an eraser." -John W. Garder

Shyloris lifted a dusky green mug from it's coaster and smiled as he caught whiff of the still steaming creamy green fluid.

"I’m bad, and that’s good."

It had the soft bittersweet flavor typical to matcha, and the botanist relished in its nostalgic taste.

"I will never be good, and that’s not bad."

He worried his lip and stared beyond the cloud of steam. Life is like a game, he mused.

"You have to learn the rules of the game."

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Dog Day Shorts - The Typewriter

The Typewriter: Snippets and Stories

The Typewriter is a short story that falls a touch on the serious side. It reflects the maturation and loss of the absolute faith that only children can so blindly follow as one grows and goes through the "up"s and "down"s of life. Just a snippet and look into how I'm spinning the yarn for this story.

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Synopsis: A story short of a boy who sneaks into his father's study to admire the antique typewriter. He reminisces upon an old fable of its seemingly indestructible nature, having survived several misfortunes and catastrophes that the family had undergone. Yet just as it had miraculously survived many a disaster, it was deemed likewise useless as anything more than a decoration, for it could function to type as well as it could fly. There were other aspects such that it differed from the typical typewriter, like the parchment roll that lacked an insert for fresh paper, looped on a perpetual roll.

Staring at the typewriter, the youth notices a small keyhole, and holds up the metal key hung on a looped string of leather. A family heirloom. On a whim, as if beckoned by more than a child's curiosity, he inserts the key into the slot -a perfect fit-, and turns the key without resistance. The machine whirs and clicks, and to his amazement, begins typing a singular message:

Greetings, Master Curse. It is a pleasure to serve you.

BOP 4: Love is in the Air

In an lush green meadow of a color reminiscent of a the fleeting Spring season, was a house, small and quaint. From a red chimney rose a plume of smoke that carried with it an aroma of slow roasting meat.

Before it was a sinuous path of large stepping stones that was framed on either side by river rock and bordered by fruit trees and herbs. It trailed up up to a shaded patio where a large chair swing stood, swaying softly with the passing zephyr.

As he turned he saw her. 

A petite figure yet with a healthy earthy appearance. Her brilliant brown hair glimmered with the rays as she twirled, the drawstrings of her mauve jacket swinging as she did. On the front was a gold threaded dandelion

She smiled and the sunlight too, seemed to echo with her laughter.