more original stuff.
Hey, is anyone any good at colouring?
Fact is, I began this comic, and utterly failed at trying to colour it. It was rather depressing. I'm posting it in the monochrome, but if you perchance want to give it a a few more shades, feel free. Just let me see the end results. :D
It begins with a short piece I wrote for English...
Title: Armistice 0
Series: Surreality [Armistice, which is post-GTA, not that this means anything to you guys]
Wordcount: 729
A/N: Any unfamiliar names are characters. But you may recognise a few names. I'll go over some characters eventually, but if you're confused about people or events, feel free to comment and ask.
The setting sun threw all colour into sharp contrast, each easily distinguished from the next. In this light, the rough and trash-encrusted concrete looked almost like a small ocean, extending to an industrial chain-link fence, crisscrossed in warning lines of eye-piercing yellow. Don’t stop here, they said. You aren’t welcome at all, so keep moving, Go back to where you came from.
Formless shadows sloped south, and when a man named Ashley emerged from the train station they touched his feet and made him think of cliffs stretching down beneath him. Compulsively he stepped back, and then wrenched himself away and down the street. Home. But it was hardly that now, with the air and sea and ring of Tanya’s last words filling his mind’s ear. This city of booze and difficult money and failed flight was laughing at him, baring teeth of buildings and trolleys and shaking with the unfamiliar stability of artificial physics. Once he had only known the life he had lived here, but now he could not stand the flatness of streets or the varied noise of a thousand vehicles and people, none of which was aware of his existence.
But he was returning home now, as if he could pick up his old, boring life like an old jacket over carnival clothes. To enroll in a class, perhaps. Or die young in a smoke-filled room, watching colours go by like clouds from the Lady. He now understood the why of Ravix’s fall into alcoholism. Coming back to this city from the sky was the worst thing life had ever thrust upon him.
But Ashley was going home, and there was little he could do to change it.
The sky was darkened as he reached the apartment complex where he had once lived, lit up orange by the fading glow to the north, shadowed by rooftops and distant walls. One streetlight guttered and died as if in response to his arrival, but the figure below was apparent and familiar. “You’re back,” the man whose name was Sebas in a voice speaking of tired, dying animosity. “Where are Rowan and the rest?”
Ashley stopped where he was and wondered if it was worth the effort to argue with Sebas now. Once he would have jumped at the chance - once he had hated Sebas with a vehemence matched only by Sebas’ hatred of him. He couldn’t find the hatred now. Everything was different now - they lacked the factor that inspired dislike. Rowan.
“Not here,” Ashley finally said. “They aren’t coming now.”
“What do you mean?” Sebas demanded.
“I said, they’re not coming,” Ashley repeated. “They can’t, because of the LORI and some other complications.” Like the fact that two people had died, that others were scarred. Ashley was not here because he wanted to - but he had been effectively pushed off at the docks. Make us a haven, they’d said. And then they had sailed away.
Ashley would never hate Cassan, could never hate Taize, and understood the others. But it didn’t help the bone-deep feeling of abandonment. And Sebas probably knew exactly what that felt like.
“You’re not telling me everything,” the medical student - perhaps graduated now, as Ashley had no idea how long it should take to complete that kind of education. Apparently he’d either retained his old suspicion or gained new perception. The former was more probable.
“I’m not going to argue with you,” Ashley replied. “They aren’t coming back. Honestly, I doubt they ever will. Not how things are now. What more do I need to tell you?”
“Rowan,” Sebas said. “How is Rowan?”
Ashley took a deep breath. “She’s dead, Sebas.” He’d considered adding “and you can keep your death threats to yourself, thanks” but felt it was unnecessary. Seeing the shock and disbelief in Sebas’ face was painful enough, because it was incredibly familiar. Like a mirror back a few months on Ashley’s own face.
The grief didn’t fade, but it did become easier to bear. And maybe - he couldn’t believe he was thinking this - maybe he could help Sebas with it.
“Look, I know we hated each other’s guts before,” he said, amazed at his own initiative. “I don’t think that will help either of us now.”
Sebas blinked at him. “You’re crazy, O’Brien. But… you’re right.”
“Truce?”
“Truce.”
The two of them nodded once, and then Ashley walked inside.
Title: Armistice 1
Series: Surreality [Armistice]
Size: 1000x1500 pixels
A/N: First of the actual story. You'll want to gallery-view it. And my, Ashley, aren't we looking emo today?
Title: Armistice 2
Series: Surreality [Armistice]
Size: 1000x1500
A/N: Sebas would like to inform us that he did not have sexual relations with that woman. But as a DA friend remarked - you can pick your enemies, and you can pick your nose, but unlike Sebas seems to think, you can't pick your enemy's nose. Again, gallery view is vital.
Fact is, I began this comic, and utterly failed at trying to colour it. It was rather depressing. I'm posting it in the monochrome, but if you perchance want to give it a a few more shades, feel free. Just let me see the end results. :D
It begins with a short piece I wrote for English...
Title: Armistice 0
Series: Surreality [Armistice, which is post-GTA, not that this means anything to you guys]
Wordcount: 729
A/N: Any unfamiliar names are characters. But you may recognise a few names. I'll go over some characters eventually, but if you're confused about people or events, feel free to comment and ask.
The setting sun threw all colour into sharp contrast, each easily distinguished from the next. In this light, the rough and trash-encrusted concrete looked almost like a small ocean, extending to an industrial chain-link fence, crisscrossed in warning lines of eye-piercing yellow. Don’t stop here, they said. You aren’t welcome at all, so keep moving, Go back to where you came from.
Formless shadows sloped south, and when a man named Ashley emerged from the train station they touched his feet and made him think of cliffs stretching down beneath him. Compulsively he stepped back, and then wrenched himself away and down the street. Home. But it was hardly that now, with the air and sea and ring of Tanya’s last words filling his mind’s ear. This city of booze and difficult money and failed flight was laughing at him, baring teeth of buildings and trolleys and shaking with the unfamiliar stability of artificial physics. Once he had only known the life he had lived here, but now he could not stand the flatness of streets or the varied noise of a thousand vehicles and people, none of which was aware of his existence.
But he was returning home now, as if he could pick up his old, boring life like an old jacket over carnival clothes. To enroll in a class, perhaps. Or die young in a smoke-filled room, watching colours go by like clouds from the Lady. He now understood the why of Ravix’s fall into alcoholism. Coming back to this city from the sky was the worst thing life had ever thrust upon him.
But Ashley was going home, and there was little he could do to change it.
The sky was darkened as he reached the apartment complex where he had once lived, lit up orange by the fading glow to the north, shadowed by rooftops and distant walls. One streetlight guttered and died as if in response to his arrival, but the figure below was apparent and familiar. “You’re back,” the man whose name was Sebas in a voice speaking of tired, dying animosity. “Where are Rowan and the rest?”
Ashley stopped where he was and wondered if it was worth the effort to argue with Sebas now. Once he would have jumped at the chance - once he had hated Sebas with a vehemence matched only by Sebas’ hatred of him. He couldn’t find the hatred now. Everything was different now - they lacked the factor that inspired dislike. Rowan.
“Not here,” Ashley finally said. “They aren’t coming now.”
“What do you mean?” Sebas demanded.
“I said, they’re not coming,” Ashley repeated. “They can’t, because of the LORI and some other complications.” Like the fact that two people had died, that others were scarred. Ashley was not here because he wanted to - but he had been effectively pushed off at the docks. Make us a haven, they’d said. And then they had sailed away.
Ashley would never hate Cassan, could never hate Taize, and understood the others. But it didn’t help the bone-deep feeling of abandonment. And Sebas probably knew exactly what that felt like.
“You’re not telling me everything,” the medical student - perhaps graduated now, as Ashley had no idea how long it should take to complete that kind of education. Apparently he’d either retained his old suspicion or gained new perception. The former was more probable.
“I’m not going to argue with you,” Ashley replied. “They aren’t coming back. Honestly, I doubt they ever will. Not how things are now. What more do I need to tell you?”
“Rowan,” Sebas said. “How is Rowan?”
Ashley took a deep breath. “She’s dead, Sebas.” He’d considered adding “and you can keep your death threats to yourself, thanks” but felt it was unnecessary. Seeing the shock and disbelief in Sebas’ face was painful enough, because it was incredibly familiar. Like a mirror back a few months on Ashley’s own face.
The grief didn’t fade, but it did become easier to bear. And maybe - he couldn’t believe he was thinking this - maybe he could help Sebas with it.
“Look, I know we hated each other’s guts before,” he said, amazed at his own initiative. “I don’t think that will help either of us now.”
Sebas blinked at him. “You’re crazy, O’Brien. But… you’re right.”
“Truce?”
“Truce.”
The two of them nodded once, and then Ashley walked inside.
Title: Armistice 1
Series: Surreality [Armistice]
Size: 1000x1500 pixels
A/N: First of the actual story. You'll want to gallery-view it. And my, Ashley, aren't we looking emo today?
Title: Armistice 2
Series: Surreality [Armistice]
Size: 1000x1500
A/N: Sebas would like to inform us that he did not have sexual relations with that woman. But as a DA friend remarked - you can pick your enemies, and you can pick your nose, but unlike Sebas seems to think, you can't pick your enemy's nose. Again, gallery view is vital.