OMG!
For the first time in for freaking ever, I'm actually really pleased with how this came out! 0.o I know, it's the apocolypse... But at least you can look at a pretty picture in the meantime!
I blocked this one out, and I think it helped... a lot. But a lot of my other blocked pictures didn't come out so well... I'm trying to find a balance, experimenting with my style for once. My friend said that her face is kind of "meh," but I really like it. Then again, feel free to pick up a shotgun and shoot holes in my ego. I can take it.
Anyways, this picture has a story behind it... one that I plan on writing. She has no name, but she has a personality and a background, and I'm open to suggestions for names (pleash?). The only reason I drew this picture (which originally was going to be a lot simpler) was from an extreme desire to draw her sleeve. Read on and you'll see what I mean. (If it's too long for you, you don't have to; I won't kill you if you don't read it)
The clearing was open and peaceful, and she was thankful for that. She hadn’t come for more blood and destruction. Being only a few paces from what was just a few hours ago a major war zone, it was surprisingly still and serene.
Either the scouts needed a raise or the battle had been well contained. For the sake of her troops, she hoped it was the latter.
The air still smelled of gun powder and the other usual smells of battle, but it was a cold breezy morning, the towering gray clouds threatening to bring rain. So it was bearable.
She looked around for a reasonably dry surface, and settled with a nearby rock. She sat down on it and looked up towards the heavens, inspecting the gray clouds for a few minutes, as if looking for some kind of message. Then, with a disappointed sigh, she looked down to take stock of the damage.
Her gown was in shreds, and good riddance to it. She hated dresses. Luckily, she had thought to wear leather pants underneath it. Even they were pretty worn, but she wasn’t complaining. It wasn’t like her to think ahead so much, so even that level was good enough for her.
She swept aside the ripped shards of orange and cream-colored fabric; silk, satin and lace, all covered in some sort of orange mesh, which had almost seemed to exist. She barely even had to pull up the skirt to expose all of the leather knee-pants and the scarred legs beneath them, which was a bit pathetic, yet even more evidence that she was not meant to be a princess or royalty of any sort.
Squeamishly, she let her eyes wander up to the bodice and heaved a sigh of relief. She was still covered. The sleeves were totaled, and it looked rather like it was supposed to be sleeveless, other than the scrap of fabric that connected to her wrist dangling down on one arm, evidence of her once-puffy sleeved. However, other than a small rip across her stomach, the bodice was intact and the corset strings still laced. She considered taking it off, but decided against it for fear that the fabric couldn’t hold itself up.
She stood up and tried to see the sun through the clouds, knowing from the dim light that it was still out, but imagining that it was sunrise. Imagining that she had someone else at her side. Anyone. A friend to laugh with, or a general to fight with, or even a son to take care of… Or a husband. Or even a boyfriend, just to be close to and to draw strength from. Anyone.
However, other than plenty of generals and soldiers to fight with, she had none of those. She was alone in the world, having given up everything and leaving all she had to be a strategist.
If only she’d known what she was getting herself into.
Oh, and I'll probably ink and color this later... it should be interesting, since it's a night scene, and I don't draw many of those.
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