+ Roan +

Prize for , who placed herself second in my Animae's contest: "Ultimate Crossover" prose category
She asked for a portrait of her character Roan Vangard, the girl starring in her entry

I'm sorry I'm not being as quick as I wanted with the prizes =_= looks like I'm feeling not really "artistic" lately
*groan*


Hope you'll like her


Mechanical pencils + textures from `Princess-of-Shadows

Some works from *sarraphine
1   
     It was not fair.  
 
     Eileen had noticed more and more that her father did not always keep to what  
 
was fair, especially when it competed directly with his own agenda. That he would  
 
lie was bad enough, but to kill an innocent animal based on rumor and legend was  
 
more than barbaric, it was unconscionable. Worse still would be the consequences  
 
should it get out, but her pleas had fallen on deaf ears.  She was just a silly young  
 
woman and unless she said something amusing or bobbed her      In a rustic tavern on the edge of the kingdom, Tier Ravenshod huddled over  
 
her second pint of cider.  At her usual place nearest the fire, she could observe the  
 
whole room and soothe aching joints in relative peace.  Her frame was still strong,  
 
albeit worn by time and injuries. She weathered gaping youngsters occasionally,  
 
but the challenges had ceased a decade ago.  Her armor and sword were packed  
 
away, but she had one of those memorable faces and never turned down a drink  
 
on someone else's coin. Nea 1   
Roan:   
          Roan had never witnessed such a storm.  The air was thick and smelled of  
 
ozone and salt.  The sky continued to darken.  Gray masses churned and rolled  
 
devouring every scrap of light.  Lightening sprang from cloud to cloud spiking to  
 
the ground in a series of three and four bolts at a time as thunder blasted the  
 
skies with deafening knolls. When the rain came it was going to pour.  She could  
 
smell it.     
 &
1   
Every dark, horrible thought was dredged from the depths and given tangibility, a  
 
nightmare of pain and torment with remarkable, exquisite clarity.  Screams echoed  
 
upon screams, sound took shape and form, and sensation redoubled upon  
 
sensation.     
May scrambled across the floor, hands seeking something to pull herself up, too  
 
many hands all scraping for the same thing at the same time.  They slipped over  
 
one another, slick and bloody.  She fervently snatched at a table-top lying askew,  
 
clawing Lucas was pacing, his agitation prickled along her spine as she neared home.  
 
May heaved a sigh and hurried around back.  The blood scent hit her as she  
 
slipped into the root cellar.  She stepped over a small red puddle on the stairs,  
 
lifting her hem high.   The walls were newly splattered and cracked, dust and  
 
plaster still hung in the air.  Black critters poured from the shadows and clustered  
 
about her feet, shimmying and crooning.     
May leaned over and smiled, flicking her fingers over a few shiny shells.

Roan Vangard belongs to *sarraphine
art by me