Finished artwork of Lilia Rozenne. I added the background and all, but there's this unsettling empty space in the top left hand area that I'll probably never fix...
Lilia Rozenne is a demon hunter who especially likes using spears. She's usually bright and cheerful, though she's more on the vain side.
The figure of Lilia was done in MS Paint, while the coloring and background was done in One Motion Flash.
It was in the ballroom I remember I first observed you. Previously arranged meeting; splitting an elaborate celebration. When the majestic oaken portals swung and I saw you, baby bird, "rainfigure" approaching, moonbeams waves around you. And your eyes met mine, and the wide black night ovals saw me. Your elegant silk and satins... Streambushels of chocolate curls floating densely on the light emanating from the chandeliers of crystal and the candles of French wax; torches of comfortability. The beautiful glory of you to be adored by me; unknowing me of the later times of us and the wasted whispers and sighs.
Agreeing agreed with us.
As we nested in sheets and furs and you headtilted suspiration. These were our favourite delights.
I met you wholeheartedly; darkpressing as we mutually moved, liquid nightsong tangible gossamerblack. "If at the end of August..."
If we stared at the night sky and we saw our future flashing and constellations pulled your eyes away with such weight and I saw painful things solely or vice versa, would you trust me? With fitting notions we've secured. Harmony; dreaming; Elysium.
Recall our Arctic cruise. Icecastles drifting to the moonset and the broad night faded; we stood on a coffincoloured deck and I clasped you. A vector that forces us pause and watch to the atmosphere of luxurious pressure.
Too-subtle questions like doomdrops. When we became too vague we misunderstood. Unexplained actions and untold emotions.
Who are we all becoming?
The cabin in the east European forest. A pastoral heaven to be desired. A haze of dawn goldblanketing the gods. If only we had obsessed a deity of fidelity; uncaused, but, again, with our obscure words, so many sad failures of communication that water my eyes; everunstable shaking orbits.
While everyone lays dreaming, I daze streaming.
I saw you in a dream; angelic light and a forgotten conversation that reopened sore heartspots and let my tragicness seep back into my undammed body...
As I turned the handle of the flyoil lantern and your palm brushed me; heightened my enchantment and you said my name like it tasted of ambrosia.
My body is an electricity-powered mansion.
The afternoon we were in the lodge and the tornado menaced and rampaged. You stood outside the woodlinked stacked house and while your windwhipped hair slapped your face and the hills and angry clouds moved around us you tearily grasped for the oncoming windstorm and I grabbed you forcefully to turn you around and you declined into weeping for the tornado, metaphor of our hearts' pair. I have no physical remedy, no scientific medicine for that.
You lay alone now. Pitched and alien fevers were too much for you. I have no remedy... You sleep solitarily now. Under the surface of the living world with a carved stone doorway: "Rozenn, our idol, be forever near to our hearts and eternally in our thoughts.." If I can get relief from this heartrending through the possession of remorse, penitence; let it come as quickly as it can travel. A cabin, a long drive, a melody strangely verging. Things I shared with you now halfretained. Rozenn, hasten me to you my angel. I hallow you in death as I did in life. We had cracked at the signs of betrayal... but I have laid my confession down and the only action I have left to perform is living; without you. Carry me to you. Lift me upwards as I sit this summer afternoon. Transport we together. Marry! Us divergent souls. Rozenn, love me to you.
