A V A L I

Concept art | illustration | general inspiration

Art-only link just below.

Feeling charitable? Buy me a coffee!


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Superfast late night scribbling for Lyn of her exsilium characters: Koltira and Zelgadis. I haven’t drawn 90s anime since like…the actual 90s. My childhooood. <3

Tomorrow I am gonna try to scribble a few more characters as well if my brain will cooperate.

sketch dump c:

RP sketching again oh no.

…..and more RP sketches.

You should probably not ask. You don’t want to know. 

Chloe Frazer designs for an RP event. Can’t decide which one to choose. >8l

wounds

thornmallow:

A STORY FOR AVALI

This concerns characters from our pan-fandom journal RP; you will probably see more stories like this in the very immediate future

——

Koltira stumbled into the Hold’s courtyard, spilling blood from the wounds in his chest and stomach.  He coughed, and more blood flecked his lips, spattering across his open palm.  The Initiative had sent him to defend a village from its hostile neighbors, and he had done so successfully, but not without cost.  The encroaching forces were small, but they had managed to construct several ballistae, which they put to devastating use throughout the conflict.  Destroying these weapons was Koltira’s main priority, and he had torn them apart—but not before one of the enormous, powerful spears crunched right through his armor and the rest of his body.  A hit like that would have instantly killed another man, so he had faked collapse until the battlefield cleared, soaking the grass with the thick, dark ichor that oozed from his injuries.  His breastplate was cracked or broken off entirely in some places; the damage would take days to repair.  But first he had to get home.

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OH MY GOD LYN THIS STORY WAS SO LOVELY and aaaaahhhfgujhk so many RP feelings. Thank you for writing this I love it so muhuuhuuhuchhh. 

"Oh, Jesus…"

She drops her rifle the second Talbot’s out of sight, lets it fall to the ground with a sharp clatter so her fingers are free to find the outline of his split jaw. The act of lifting it is gentle— she isn’t sure if his throat is bleeding or his mouth or— no, there’s the gash, warm against her palm and easy enough to press shut. It’s then that she catches the cold bite of metal against her thumb, spots the needle stuck in and plucks it free. She’d hoped she’d never have to see him like this again. No such luck, it seems. No luck at all for any of them.

"Come on, baby, come on. Look at me. Breathe— it’s okay. It’s all okay."

RP inspired drawing from the panfandom game we’re in because I’ve lost control of my life.