lmsilva.flavors.me
The room was cool with delicate rays of light streaming from the windows onto your hands where the skin illuminated; catching light and burning. The sky was bright and blue but unpleasant in a way that made you dizzy to the point of being sick, a way that made your eyes sore and wet, a way that made you draw the blinds and retreat back into things dim and grey.
Through the blinds, light cunningly snaked through the cracks, leaving a dark and unsettling but constant pattern on the table and your hands and the room was so dark now that the light burned hotter than ever before.
You moved your hands under the hot light, watching the lines of sunlight arc and drop and it fascinated you so much that you stopped and wondered if the light would burn through the hairs and meat on your arms and through the bones if you were still long enough.
You sat there, letting the sunlight cut through you, leaving your arms jagged and grotesque.
You wondered how I found this beautiful, how I could watch you in the dark and find the light pretty and endearing and you wondered how I could reach over and hold your hand, how I could love you even when the words you spoke were ugly, wet and rotten.
I whispered that I love you, that you are perfect and that you are well; I tell you things that you hate to hear, things that anger you, things that hurt you. I whispered as I trace the tips of your fingernails, the tips of your lashes and the corner of your mouth.
I moved to you; to the cooler side of the room, to the burning light and to the blinds. I moved closer and closer until the dim and grey were behind me, until I could feel your skin on mine so that we could be jagged and grotesque together.
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| Terrible picture, but it was 1 in the morning I think? |
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| The very first original characters my sisters and I made. The grinning one was mine :) |
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| Old Original character! This time I drew her actually looking her age! |
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| The favourite of my recent sketches! Did I mention that my very first character was a magical girl with 2-tone hair? |
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| This one was done 2 days ago I think. Did it to reacquaint myself with my baby tablet after setting up my space. Figured I may as well add it here! |
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| Naturally, I tried using the nibs more! This was mostly a mixture of nibs and micron pens though. |
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| Still working on working the nibs better, but I like how this one turned out! |
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| Drew this after taking a break from inking the horror comic that Grim and I are doing for an Anthology. |
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| Once Grim finishes the script, I tumbnail /storyboard the whole comic. Afterwards we move to revisions. Once revisions are made, I go ahead and start drafting the pages. |
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| The drafts usually take several tries and I start to rethink and rework the layout. Once I get that done I'm ready to make proper sketches. I use Paint Tool SAI. |
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| Making fine sketches takes some time and it's where I, unlike the previous steps, pay more attention to the depth , perspective and anatomy of the figures and backgrounds. |
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| Here's what the fine sketch looks like. I usually do the background first, then the figures but I jump back and forth sometimes. |
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| Then I proceed to ink. The time I use differs depending on the page but I ink pretty quickly . During this part, I tend to make alterations to the original sketch. It's just a constant editing process. |
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| Once I'm done inking, I move to doing colour flats. I HATE this part because it can take ages. This stage still has room to make edits to your line art. Once I finish the figures, I move onto the background. |
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| Once the flats on figures and backgrounds are done, I start shading them. This is a pretty quick process, unless I make some edits. |
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| Once done, I move to Photoshop where I add SFX and texture brushes to add skin blemishes. This prevents the overall comic from looking like it's made of plastic. |
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| Then I add the dialogue. I usually add the text first, then the speech bubbles. After a few more minor edits (eg. The color of the wall.), I'm DONE! |
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| Sketchbook River from :EPOCH Files in a simple alternate outfit. |
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| Sketchbook Mary from an upcoming comic; Howard & Edgar. |
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| Sketchbook Warren, a character from a story I'm writing called Refuge. |
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| Travelbook concept art of an upcoming anthology comic. Done on the ferry. |
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| Scrap paper drawing of a Character from said upcoming comic anthology. |
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| Kids in the library say the strangest things. |
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| A drawing done for an old artsy high school friend of our "avatars". |
It was a particularly misty night and Mary and her older brother Harry were taking the bus home from school. Their house rested on the other side of the hill, which was quite a walk from town, where their Primary school was located, so they inclined themselves to take the bus, which runs half an hour apart. It was quite the wait, especially if you were unlucky enough to miss it, but it was much better than walking on foot, since the route to their house was through the dark and mysterious forest and over a wooden bridge.
It was of course, quite unfortunate that the bus had decidedly broken down in the middle of forest, and right on top of that particular wooden bridge.
The bus had been mostly empty. It was only the driver, an old white haired man, and Mary and Harry, who were left with no other choice than to march back home on foot.
Of course, with dark and mysterious forests, come dark and mysterious things. Who wouldn't jump when the wind sang through the trees, making them whisper ghastly secrets? Who wouldn't yelp when the glowing yellow eyes of witches and goblins blinked at you from behind the bushes?
Mary held Harry’s hand that was warm and firm because he was brave and strong and had promised to protect her no matter what. Promises were hard to keep, Mary thought as she held her brother’s hand tight.
There was song in the air as they passed by drooping trees and crying streams and they stopped in their footsteps to listen a moment.
Ring-a-ring o’ roses
The voices sang with glee and splendor. There was the sound of children and laughter in the distance beyond the trees and off the road. Harry tugged at Mary’s hand.
“Perhaps there will be someone who is willing to give us a ride back home.” He reasoned and she followed.
They stumbled over the bushes and Mary squealed when a prickly branch of a rose bush caught the hem of her dress. They walked until they reached a clearing. The sky was grey and the air smelled of flowers. Around the clearing was a large array of rose bushes, but as beautiful as these red roses were, Mary and Harry could not turn away from a sight as intriguing as the sight before them.
There must have been at least a dozen of children in the field with their arms locked, skipping along to the sounds of the rustling trees.
There was a tall thin man, with a raggedy suit and coattails. He turned to Mary and Harry slowly and held out his hand, a wide grin spreading across his face, showing too many teeth than a man should have.
“Care to join us?” The voice was unrecognizable and Mary, feeling fear for children who looked pale and blue as they danced in circles, shook her little head. Harry on the other hand seemed to welcome the idea. A wide grin appeared on his face as he nodded;
A pocket full of posies
“Yes,” Harry seemed to have forgotten the whole ordeal of getting home and was readily pulling Mary along to join in on the fun.
“No!” Mary yelped and yanked her hand free. She didn't know how Harry’s smile could get any wider, but it did as he beckoned her with a limp hand. Mary was fed up and ran back into the trees. Moments before the clearing disappeared completely, she turned back to see Harry, joining in the circle, his face pale and blue and that sickening wide grin on his face.
Ashes! Ashes!
Mary went stumbling into the forest, unsure where to turn. She ran and ran but the laughter and songs grew louder and louder nonetheless. No matter where she turned, the sound was still there. She huffed and puffed and cried when the rose bushes tore her skirt and cut her knee. She looked up to find herself wrapped in a sea of rose bushes. She stumbled out, with prickly thorns cutting her skin and found herself in the clearing once more.
The tall man was there before her and when she looked up, she never noticed how bone-white his face was, and how dark and deep his eyes were. He reached out his bony hand.
“Care to join us?” Mary was tired and took the cold and bony hand in her small ones. She could hear fiddles now. The sound of merry strings singing a tune and children laughing and prancing was all around her. A grin crept to her face.
She skipped to the children, hooked her arm around her brother’s and danced and sang together so merrily that she didn't notice her skin turning blue and how cold her brother’s hand was.
We all fall down!
TUNEThe rain was good. The first few drops had already restored a little bit of my strength. I fumbled with my suit, untangling the silver Spindle from my belt.
It began to pour. A thousand icy needles falling from the gray sky made everything look white. Through my helmet visor, almost nothing was visible, and had I been an actual human, the rain would’ve been a huge disadvantage.
Of course, I wasn't human. None of us were. Through the pouring rain, I could hear the resounding cheers from my brothers and sisters. The rain meant fewer risks of losing people on the job. It was never easy hunting down Foundlings, but when it rained, we get stronger, faster, and we always win.
It was our instruments of course, that made us this way. The irony of it all was that Foundlings strive on sunlight or heat, where as we have always thrived in the dark and cold. We were supposed to be doing this for the good of humanity, but we were always misinterpreted, misjudged. Every now and then, the humans catch a glimpse of us, a dark shadowy figure—they were afraid of us, but humans were notorious for fearing the unknown.
The Foundling before me was a man. He was tall, with dark hair and white skin. I suddenly wondered if he was handsome to humans. To me though, his long body was distorted, breaking into pieces and reforming, like watching a broken video. His face was unrecognisable and his movements were jittery but he was fast. With one quick swoop, he had closed a great deal of distance between us. He swung his arms over his head—he was intending to knock me down.
I pivoted to the side, quickly making moves to jab the spindle, which was a long fork-like device, into its body. It jittered just then, breaking into pieces and reforming in an instant. I gritted my teeth and when I saw it stretch its elongated arm, I braced myself. Its arm came quickly, hitting me in the stomach and knocking out the air from me. I stumbled and rolled back to my side, managing to dodge its next attack. It jittered again, and I counted the seconds, like I had been trained. I waited until he jittered back and reformed and snapped into action. I slipped the Spindle between its ribs and the second I did, it crumbled and its mouth gaped, letting out a silent scream before turning to ash.
I watched it chip away as the rain water tore through it, leaving nothing but the mud and dirt. I looked around. The whiteness of the rain had faded. We stood in the middle of a grassy plain, which was part of the city’s park. It was clear now and the rain had slowed. I could see my brothers and sisters, who were all clad in suits and helmets and belts as I was. All of them had their Spindles in hand.
Tonight, we were victorious. We marched towards each other, wordlessly checking if any of us were injured.
We held each other’s shoulder, a gesture we had picked up from the humans many years ago, and went our separate ways. I walked away slowly, lifting my gaze to the dark sky. The rain and turned into a drizzle. I gathered what little rain water was left into my palm and thanked it. I marched onward, letting my instruments shift back into its disguise. I was girl, twelve with dark hair and black eyes.
Our instruments made us look like people, but in truth we looked nothing like them. In this day and age, my brothers and sisters have adopted ways to blend in with the world in order to hunt Foundlings. Foundlings themselves have the habit of adapting their appearance to those that bore hatred and corruption. It was no shock that they mostly took the form of humans.
Foundlings spread anger and resentment. They cause chaos and unbalance and in turn, create a vile noise that resounds in all those who feel anger and hatred. My brothers and sisters and I were here to control that, to eliminate as much noise as we can.
Foundlings cause unrest, and disharmony and we aim to tune the world and its inhabitants, to create peace and balance. In order to do that, we bear arms to those of hatred and corruption. We will cleanse the surface of the world and rid it of its stains of hatred and corruption. Only then can humanity find true harmony.
I took a step forward into the street, letting the pitter patter of drizzling rainwater sooth me and cleanse me free from inhuman scars and bruises.
In the old language, we were called the Children of Storms, but even for us, it sounded old and conceited. For official purposes, we were called Conductors.
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| Thorax |
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| Sordis |
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| Moira |
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| River |
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| Gurukitty's Once Upon A Time Anthology (I did the cover!) |
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| Ink'd Well Comic's Charity anthology, Fearsome Fables! |
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| Here's one! Inks by Grim, Pencils by LuvWyer |
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| Mel (left) and Warren (right) |
I suppose when you’re lying in a puddle of mud, with cold rain falling down over you, it really puts things in perspectiveI was never really good at anything. I was an average student, had normal friends. I didn’t stick out particularly. I had no skills or talents. I wasn’t good at cooking or sports—I was a terrible athlete. I suppose if I had ever put any proper effort into soccer or basketball, I wouldn’t be lying here on the ground with a hole in my chest.Don’t worry! I am well and alive—at least I think I am.I heard the sound of heavy soles on gravel, but I didn’t turn to my attacker He was already scared as it is, so I lay there, facing the grey skies. We were in an alley and I saw the top of the buildings shrink further into the sky. There was the faint sound of traffic in the distance, mixed with the scarred whimpering of my attacker. He didn’t mean to stab me of course. He had tried to mug me but I was feeling strangely self-regulating that day so I had retaliated, even after seeing the large knife. It came down on me hard, which had shocked me at first, but then again, the way I had come carelessly after him, even with his hand raised above my head, I suppose he was strong enough to jab a hole in me.It was strange, laying there and not moving, even though I could have easily gotten up and punched him square in the face. I would have knocked him out too, called the police and have them deal with him. If he ever started screaming about a teenage boy coming back from the dead, they would just think he was crazy.It sounded like a sound plan, but looking into his terrified eyes, I could see he had not planned on stabbing anyone. He was just cold and wet and in need for a little money.I would have given it to him too, if it were any other day. I’ve been mugged before.Today though, my strange rebellious streak had cost me my life—so to speak.He hovered over me for a few more seconds, and then the knife dropped from his gloved hands. He was visibly shaking all over. It wasn’t long before he kicked his heels and ran off. I couldn’t tell where, from the angle I was in, so I waited until I couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore.The rain had eased by the time I turned to pick myself up. My school bag was left untouched, but flipped over next to me. My school uniform was soaked in dirt and trash juice, not to mention the hole in my chest. I looked down at my shirt to survey the damage. Amazingly enough, the knife had sliced me right between the folds of my shirt met, leaving a few dangling plastic buttons but no tears.The hole in my chest was grotesque and I waited for the skin to knit back together. They didn’t and I had assumed it was because the wound was much deeper. It was safe to assume that a bigger wound would take longer to heal.I picked up my dripping wet school bag and slung it over my shoulder.I pulled my sweater tighter around my chest to hide the wound and walked through the alley, with the original intent of getting home through a shortcut. I passed a stained glass window that was glazed with brown and green. I saw my sepia reflection and analysed myself.My tousled hair was orange on my reflection, even though it was light brown and with eyes to match. I looked like an average 15 year old boy. Average in every aspect, but by now it should be obviously that I’m not as average as I’d like to be.By the time I reached the end of the alley, I couldn’t help but turn to see if my attacker had stuck around or if he decided to run back to rid of my body. There was no sign of him, so I stepped out of the alley and onto the sidewalk where a few people passed, busy with their noses on the screen of their phones.
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| NSFW for sketchy sexy times |
