Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Wave Dancer WIP
Bonnie Watson
Work in Progress
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Wave Dancer
This is the first in the series.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Time of Unicorns WIP
Monday, October 26, 2009
The Perfect Style
Cora loved her new school. She made friends easy and loved her new outfits. But she did not like her hair. All the other children had the most unique styles. Cora just couldn’t get her hair to stay up.
Everyone tried to help. The teacher even made it a class project. Nothing seemed to work. They pulled and tugged and tied and sprayed. It just would not style. So Cora decided she needed to find the perfect style.
While walking home one day, she came across a curious sight. A mouse, with its tiny fuzz on the tip of its head tied up in a tufted ponytail.
“Mice don’t wear ponytails!” Cora said.
To her surprise, the mouse replied, “Where I come from, everyone and everything has a style.”
“Can you take me there?” Cora asked. “I’m looking for the perfect style.”
“Gladly! Can call me Mince. You may come as my guest.”
“I’m Cora. Pleased to meet you, Mince.” And together, they opened a secret doorway and crawled through.
Cora had never seen anything so beautiful. The tree trunks looked like twisted curls of braided hair with bob cut flowers in bloom. (Describe different styles in the landscape and buildings).
Cora carried Mince on her shoulder as a tour guide.
“I really like this style!” she admired the (name style).
“Try it on!”
And so she did. There were so many to pick. Finally, she saw one more hidden under a statue.
“No, wait! Not that one!” Mince cried.
But it was too late. Cora had already put it on. And it looked perfect!
Suddenly, the statues began to crack and bend until all the rock had crumbled away.
“We are the Guardians of Style!” They said in unison, stepping from the leftover dust. “This particular style is off limits to outsiders.”
“But why?” Cora asked. “I’ll do anything to have it!”
“It is different from other styles because it was the last creation from Master Styles himself before all the styles went wrong.”
They pointed at Cora, and she looked down to see what they were looking at. To her shock, her lower half had turned into a miniature horse. Now she looked like the guardians.
“What’s happening to me?” Cora asked.
“The magic must be wrong,” Mince said. “Where is Master Styles?”
“Can this person help me?” Cora pleaded. “I really like this style. And being part horse isn’t too bad, if that’s what it takes.”
“Master Styles is responsible for creating the many styles around the land,” the Guardians explained. “But one style went terribly wrong! Now he is missing.”
They took Cora to a hill overlooking the valley. One side was bright and cheery with different styles. The other side was dark frizz and wild tangles.
“If we don’t find him soon, everything will start to look that way,” the Guardians said. “Nor will you be able to change back.”
“So what happened to the bad style?” Cora asked. “Can we fix it?”
“Here, take this.” A Guardian gives Cora a beautiful jeweled comb. “This will help you.”
Cora thanked the Guardians and started heading for the tangled forest of frizz. Mince was frightened and hid in her pocket, but Cora was determined to keep her style. She used the comb to untangle the foliage so it was easier to walk through. When she was confronted by strange frizzy creatures that rolled and tumbled and bumped into things, she used the comb to straighten their fur so they could see where to go.
At last, she reached the home of Master Styles. It would have made a lovely building if not for the tangles of frizz everywhere. The frizzy vines drew straight up to the highest tower, the place where Master Styles was last seen. So Cora climbed the vines all the way up and peered through the window. There, she see a hideous beast trying to conjure up new styles. The styles were always wrong, so the beast kept tossing them out the window.
“That’s why the land is a wreck,” Cora whispered. “All the bad styles are being released in land.”
The creature suddenly turned. Its sharp ears had heard Cora’s whisper. It went to the window and picked Cora from the vines and set her down where it could properly study her.
“That style!” it screeched. “I want!” The creature tried to pluck the curls away, but Cora held up the comb.
“I’ll make you a style!” she exclaimed.
When the creature saw the comb, he sat down with a thumb and started to dry.
“My hair is no good, and I can’t fix it!” it wailed. “I try and try, but can’t. It’s all Master Styles fault!”
“Not all styles come out perfect,” Cora said. “Just look at mine.” She removed the curly wig and let her hair down. “I’ll give you my style if you stop ruining the land with your bad ones.”
“I promise.”
So Cora took the style and placed it on the creature’s head. As soon as it touched it started growing down the neck, turning all the old hair to golden curls, even its tail. The skin color bleached to a pure white, and suddenly Cora realized she was staring at a unicorn!
“I love it!” the unicorn exclaimed. “Thank you!”
“And thank you!” Mince jumped from Cora’s pocket and shifted into the missing Master Styles. “I was too frightened to undo the mess myself, but now that you’ve returned my comb I can help with that style you like so much.”
Cora squatted on the floor, for her horse like body was too wide to fit in a chair, and waited patiently while Master Styles recreated her favorite style. When it was completed, she looked down to find that she no longer looked like a Guardian. Master Styles handed her a mirror.
“It’s the perfect style!” Cora said. “Thank you!”
The unicorn offered to take Cora back to the secret doorway. She waved goodbye to all her friends.
Everyone loved her new style!
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
New Art
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
SOUL-SHIFTER - Chapter 2
SOUL-SHIFTER
©2009 Bonnie Watson
CHAPTER 2
I didn’t need to look to see whose quick steps entered the control room. The click of scanner confirmed no weapons before buzzing her through the double sliding doors. Even before she was granted access I knew she was angry. The rest of the guys just stared at their monitors while I had a mind to get ready for yet another tantrum.
“Again?” That was probably the wrong greeting, but by this time I was prepared to retaliate with some new information brought in by one of our hackers.
A picture of a young girl’s death scene was tossed upon the stainless steel counter. The stark white backing reflected over the surface that drew a few questioning stares.
“She was only fifteen,” came a sharp reply. “Can you believe that bastard had the audacity to call after it happened and explained why he infected her?”
I shook my head.
“Come on, Marisa. You’re the specialist on the subject. He probably wanted to play to your sensitive side.” When she didn’t reply, I added, “Did you get a trace?”
I could feel her piercing gaze boring a hole through my skull. It was people like her that drove me nuts. Then again, government agents just seemed to have that affect. To choose a woman sleekly fitted with an all-black suit decked out with all the possibilities of hidden weapons unchecked by a mere metal detector, was more deadly than a muscled man holding a bazooka. Desire and lust soon triumphed over all other thoughts, and she knew it.
“Disconnected,” she finally said. “This isn’t my normal assignment. I’m hearing the guy doesn’t even have a blood type due to...chemical alterations? I’m no science whiz, Bob. I came to find a serial killer. If you wanted more scientific results, you should have hired a nerd!”
I chuckled. “What with your record to uncover missing persons and track down criminals with little information to go on, how could we resist? You’ve done well in locating potential carriers.”
“Victims, Bob!” She tapped the picture. “This one fell off a rooftop right in front of me!”
“And we thank you for bringing back blood samples because of that.”
She kept her face devoid of emotion, but I knew she would have rather smacked me. “I love your sensitivity here.” She sighed. “Were you able to find anything?”
“None. No sign of contamination. But we were able to find this.” I held up a report. “With photo ID.”
It was quickly snatched from my grasp. I watched her serious expression shift to a look of surprise.
“Wait. How old is this?” she asked. “This can’t be current.” She pointed to the image of a photocopied driver’s license. “This expired more than six years ago. I need something more up-to-date.”
“You won’t find anything more up-to-date than that,” I explained. I quickly typed in a few figures to pull up some data, then swung the monitor around so she could see. The image on the screen resembled the one she held. “He goes by the name Allastor. “A few more clicks produced a wealth of information snatched from social security networks tied into our system. “His real name is Allen Roberts. When we looked up the origin of Allastor, it came up Greek for ‘avenging soul.’ Quite proper in his case, since the chemical has altered his DNA, disconnecting it from normal functioning, and is now capable of mutating upon itself, thus creating a moveable piece of inner being, or - what we like to term - a soul-shifter.”
A look of ‘I’m not following’ touched her features, so I brought up a quick animation that theorized the chemical’s chain reaction.
“Basically,” I began, “this is how we think it works. The chemical acts as a sort of pigment replicator, the same in which can be found on chameleons and cuttlefish. But it also has the same formulaic plot course as a virus. Once transmitted to another person, it slowly consumes from the inside. Now, we speculate that Allastor has had this for so long that his body became immune to its effects. But there’s another part of it that we don’t understand - the part where the pigment comes into play. Once inside another person, the chemical somehow submits signals back to its original mass, which allows for color transformation - and a few other oddities.”
“Such as?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Ever heard of telepathic energy? It’s sort of like that.”
“What?” She stared at the computer screen as it completed its demo. “You sound like some...whacko scientist! I didn’t come here for that. I came to find a killer. Now you’re telling me he’s a psycho telepathic freak show?”
“Quite possibly.” I swiveled the monitor back to its normal position. “In any case, he needs to be stopped. The hardest part will be locating his exact position...and an exact look. I mentioned pigment change? Well, get this. Every time he infects another person, he takes on a piece of their appearance, so you’re really not far off calling him a freak show.”
“And how long does it take for something like that to occur? This telepathic stuff? The pigment change?”
I shrugged. “According to our studies, it should be...almost instant.”
*****
Almost instant... I let a smile show. You think?
I hung a leg over the scaffolding left alongside an empty construction site. Reaching into a pocket, I withdrew the pack of needles I’d bought earlier. The tug of minds getting ready to collapse from invading DNA was not something I enjoyed feeling. I unrolled the pack and selected a syringe. Filled and ready, I held it between my teeth while rolling the rest together and stuffing it back in my jacket.
“Wonderful observation, Bob.” I said to the passing breeze. “But you’re no good without access codes,” I rolled the needle between my fingers, “although your passwords will come in handy.”
I chuckled and rolled up my sleeve to position the needle over the underside of my arm. A small crevice was beginning to mold upon the area where I had injected so many times. It didn’t even bother me now as the first wave of drowsiness took me. Somewhere below I heard the needle ting against metal before realizing I’d dropped it.
I was asleep the moment three of the voices died from my thoughts - and with it a part of my soul…
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Soul-Shifters Characters
Characters Marisa and Allastor from my new novel "Soul-Shifter". You never see Allastor's face in the beginning. I'm not quite sure what he looks like in truth. He takes on so many souls that he becomes a part of each of them, like some walking freak show.
Marisa is a government agent trying to find Allastor so he doesn't claim another victim. What happens after she finds him...is another story.
Work in Progress
Planning to use Prismacolor Markers, Micron Pens, & Photoshop CS3.
Characters © 2009 Yours Truly
References:
http://jademacalla.deviantart.com/art/ms-exp1-clip1-112054431
http://longstock.deviantart.com/art/Fishnet-Gun-4-36627968
Monday, July 27, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Glory Character Sketch
Work in Progress
Ball Point Pen
Sketch
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Different Kind of Hurt
I've actually had this image brewing in my mind for quite some time. I wanted to show the relationship between Wisdom and his youngest son, Koreken. Having the ability to ease pain by combining pressure points and positive energy, Koreken is seen holding his hand over his father's heart in this piece. However, at this point in his life, Wisdom has already experimented much pain, the type that is more mental than physical. Thus the title, "different kind of hurt" cannot be cured by a mere touch.
Sea-Dragon
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Book Cover WIP
I decided since the old one was painted with the mouse, and I bought the tablet afterward, that it needed some cleaning. I wasn't happy with the flames in the old piece. So I'm adding more dynamic action to the piece, shade with pencil, then scan and paint it using Photoshop CS3. The old one was done in Photoshop 7. Nice upgrade since my computer died.
To give a bit of summary, this is the antagonist of my book, Jenario Onyx. He stupidly thought he could become a great magic-user by swiping the horn of a unicorn, ends up transforming it into a blood-sucker, possesses himself, and it all goes downhill from there...at least for Jenario. Should have stuck to turning stone into gold. Probably would have been safer.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Short Story Update
Bonnie Watson
Copyright © 2009
The morn was as bright as any other day for the sky homes in Sundire. High above the clouds they collected like giant lilly pads of independent villages, attached from below to keep from floating off. As twelve-year-old Chelsea Williams trotted outside, she wondered how far down they went, especially when a piece of paper swept away from her grasp and was lost over the edge. How many others were there, she pondered, collected over time in a place where no other could venture? That was, unless you had a shape-shifter, which Chelsea did not at the moment. Instead, she waited patiently with her pad of paper settled on her lap, pencil in hand, and began to draw.
It was half past noon by the time the carrier arrived, late as usual. Chelsea pocketed her pencil and rose when the great winged beast carrying the latest letters of importance to her village appeared in the distance. A spectacular site, its wings stretched wider than a rooftop, and louder than her mother’s rug beating on the down stroke. Its neck stretched like that of a dragon with the head quite equine. White bony plates lined all the way to the shoulder blades where its carrier, a boy of sixteen, sat atop with as much pride as a kitten catching its first mouse.
A wide grin spread across Chelsea’s face when he saw her standing at the edge. With a single wave, she stood back to allow the great creature to alight with ease. The boy instantly dismounted, taking a sack of letters with him.
“You’re late,” she said matter-of-factly, hands to her hips.
“Should be used to that by now,” was the reply as they started toward the drop-off point.
From behind, they could hear the dragon like creature yawn. Chelsea even stole a glance behind her to see it shift back to its original form. Just as pompous looking as Will. She shook her head. Nearly human looking herself, the shape-shifter walked over to a watering trough and spooned some of the liquid to her lips.
“You dropped one again.” Chelsea dug through her papers to produce a yellow tinted letter.
Instantly, the boy snatched it from her grasp.
“Gees, Chels, how do you catch these things?” He turned the letter over, his brisk walk slowing only slightly to read the address. “Ah, man! This is Mrs. Loveingston’s! She was expecting this yesterday.”
“Mrs. Loveingston?” Chelsea paused in thought. “Isn’t she close to where you live?”
Will nodded.
“Wow! That’s like,” she counted her fingers, “seven platforms over! Bet you’ll be hearing from her too.”
Arriving at the drop-off point, they pushed through the double doors into a small building where a gentleman greeted them at the counter. After pouring the mail into a large bin for sorting, Chelsea followed Will back outside.
Her village was not large like some of the others. Being one of the farthest settlements, they were the last to receive mail, which meant extra time to check out the shape-shifter Will had recently obtained from his father. Saffron was her name, just as wild looking in her original form as she was in her shifted appearances. Always, she kept her white hair cut back in static waves of intertwined feathers and braids.
“Can’t ride today, Chels,” Will said without even turning to look at her. “Got an important message to deliver across the Great Gap.”
She could feel a pout coming on, but instead held firm. I mustn’t look like a baby in front of his mount.
“Lucky!” she replied. “Well, I suppose I’m due for a shape-shifter any day now.”
“You’ve been saying that for months!” Will laughed. “Chels, some people never get shape-shifters. Remember they choose the carrier, not the other way around. Besides, it’s rough business being one, and I’d prefer seeing you standing here every day of my life than taking my place.”
“What? You don’t think a girl could brave the sky? You’ve seen how I ride.”
Saffron was waiting just outside town when the two arrived, bickering over carriers again. With a shake of her head, Chelsea got another earful about the dangers of high-speed chases from Ember Mages, wicked electrical storms, and going for days without food or water just to reach the next destination.
“Not all Ember Mages are terrible,” she said thoughtfully. Of all stories containing elemental-users, the Ember Mages fascinated her most. “I’ve heard some are very friendly, and just think what it would be like to walk through fire and not even get burned.”
“Yeah,” Will looked doubtful, “then feel their full power blasting you soon as you turn your back. That’s how my dad got that scar across his cheek. Never trust an Ember Mage!”
He whistled for his companion to shift so they could be off.
“Oh, sure! Like one would really come around these boring parts.”
“Ya never know,” Will’s shape-shifter answered once in her dragon form. “It wasn’t too long ago one actually came this way. I had the pleasure of fending it off.” The creature raised its head with pride. “Got an honorary pendent to prove it.”
Chelsea just waved the comment aside.
“Yeah, I see you’ve never taken it off either. But that was back when we were still developing Sundire, before I was even born!”
“Still, one was here,” was the huffy reply.
“Doesn’t count.” Chelsea rolled her eyes.
Will waved goodbye as his mount lifted off into the sky.
“Stay out of trouble, Chels!” he called back.
While watching them playfully dip through wisps of clouds, Chelsea sat down next to the landing platform to draw. The clink of pencil against the board made for a quick dash to retrieve it. Too late, it vanished over the side.
“You gotta’ be kidding me!” She sighed and looked around at all the pages from her pad flung on the ground from the sudden movement. “That was my last one.” She rose and started collecting the sketches. “Better run over to Mr. Johnson’s before they close and order more.”
As she sat to reorganize the papers back into her pad, a half torn letter flipped into view.
“Will, you’re terrible at keeping letters together,” she said to herself, turning it over to read the address. “Faulkner? That’s Will’s last name.” It was so tempting to open the partially torn envelope that she decided to take a peek at the first few words shown in the opening.
We are in dire...
“Oh, it’s probably for Will’s father.” Chelsea stood and stuffed the envelope under her arm, her pad under the other. “Though I can’t believe Will missed this. He’s usually good about keeping his family stuff straight.” She took out the letter again and looked at the words. “But I wonder why he didn’t get this delivered first when his house is right there at the drop-off point?”
Curiosity getting the better of her, Chelsea carefully folded the opening back so that it wouldn’t rip. A green tinted piece of paper slipped out. Unfurling each section, she began to read.
To The Head Council Member, James Faulkner. Good day, Mr. Faulkner, we are in dire need of your assistance. A renegade shape-shifter was last seen heading toward Sundire two days ago. He is NOT to select any carriers, due to misfortunes in the past. I trust this message reaches you before any trouble ensues. With greatest respect, Headmaster Shape-shifter Horticus.
“Headmaster Shape-shifter?” Chelsea studied the name. “This must have come from beyond the Great Gap too.” She turned to stare through the rich blue sky, barely able to make out the next village through the haze of drifting clouds in the distance. “I wonder if Will is going to meet the headmaster?” A thrill of excitement tingled through her. “That means he’d get to see an entire settlement of shape-shifters! Will, you are so holding out on me in your adventures! I hope the renegade does show up. Least I’d have something to talk about too.”
Chelsea skipped all the way home and up to her room. Her parents were out in the garden again. She could hear the scratch of the hoe digging through the soil in their never-ending quest to find weeds. Chelsea just smiled and pulled open a page to her drawing pad while reclining on her bed. She glanced out the window, then held the sketch of Saffron up. She gave the paper a wiggle, making it look like the dragon was moving.
“You draw very well,” someone said, and Chelsea turned to see a green and gold bird with a long feathery tail sitting on one of the bedposts. “Can you move it again? It looks just like her.”
Chelsea slowly sat up and moved the picture for the bird to see.
“Are you…?” she began.
There came a chuckle before it flew toward the center of the room and shifted to its original form: a young man with white hair like Saffron’s with deep blue eyes.
“I hear you’ve been waiting months for one like me.” He took a bow. “I’m Ego, second in command to Headmaster Horticus himself.”
In rising excitement, Chelsea gripped the edge of her bed so hard she left imprints of her hands in the covers.
“I read about him! He’s leader of your people, isn’t he? I have a letter written by him!”
“Directly to you?” Ego pondered.
Chelsea shook her head. “No, I found it. Will is our carrier. I guess he must have dropped it. He does that quite often.”
Ego made a face.
“A carrier position is an honor. Dropping messages is risky and could take that honor away. Do you, by chance, still have the letter?”
“Of course.” Chelsea dug through her papers until she produced the torn envelope. “It’s really for Will’s father. Something about a renegade shape-shifter being on the loose. Do you know anything about that?”
“Only bits and pieces.” Ego read the letter over before handing it back. “Supposedly, he chose the wrong carrier. Not a pretty sight.”
“Is that possible?” Chelsea asked.
Ego shrugged. “It happens.”
“Gosh, I can’t imagine what it would be like!” Chelsea exclaimed. “Imagine waiting all that time for your own shape-shifter. Then when one comes it’s not meant to be! How’s that happen?”
“Mixed signals, I guess.” The young man shifted back into the bird and flew to the open window. “It’s hard to choose sometimes. The signs have to match.”
“Do they match now?” Chelsea asked hopefully.
Ego’s beak curved into a grin. “I’ve seen you ride Saffron on several occasions. I’m pretty sure you’re the one. So…care for a spin?”
“Would I?” Chelsea ran to get her shoulder bag. “I want to practice immediately!” She stuffed some papers into the sack and slung it over her shoulder like a carrier would do. “I can’t wait to tell Mom and Dad! They’ll be thrilled!”
“Um…” Ego dived back inside to block the door. “Don’t you at least want to show them after you’ve practiced a bit? You know, really look professional?” The bird circled Chelsea, herding her back to the window. “Besides, it would give me more time to get a feel for how you ride in the air. What do you say? I’d hate to embarrass your parents if I’m not ready yet.”
“I guess you’re right. And I do want to look professional if Will were to see me.” She hoisted herself through the window. “Come on! I know a secret place where we can practice. No one checks it but me.”
Ego fluttered joyfully out the window behind her.
“Careful,” Ego warned. “Don’t fall from the window your first day as carrier.”
“Relax.” The girl slid down the vines with ease. “I’ve done this a million times.” She looked around to make sure no one was watching, then gestured for Ego to follow. “This way.”
To Be Continued...
Monday, June 15, 2009
New Short Story - WIP
Bonnie Watson
Copyright © 2009
The morn was as bright as any other day for the sky homes in Sundire. High above the clouds they collected like giant lilly pads of independent villages, attached from below to keep from floating off. As twelve-year-old Chelsea Williams trotted outside, she wondered how far down they went, especially when a piece of paper swept away from her grasp and was lost over the edge. How many others were there, she pondered, collected over time in a place where no other could venture? That was, unless you had a shape-shifter, which Chelsea did not at the moment. Instead, she waited patiently with her pad of paper settled on her lap, pencil in hand, and began to draw.
It was half past noon by the time the carrier arrived, late as usual. Chelsea pocketed her pencil and rose when the great winged beast carrying the latest letters of importance to her village appeared in the distance. A spectacular site, its wings stretched wider than a rooftop, and louder than her mother's rug beating on the down stroke. Its neck stretched like that of a dragon with the head quite equine. White bony plates lined down the neck, all the way to the shoulder blades where its carrier, a boy of sixteen, sat atop with as much pride as a kitten catching its first mouse.
A wide grin spread across Chelsea's face when he saw her standing at the edge. With a single wave, she stood back to allow the great creature to alight with ease. The boy instantly dismounted, taking a sack of letters with him.
"You're late," she said matter-of-factly, hands to her hips.
"Should be used to that by now," was the reply as they started toward the drop-off point.
From behind, they could hear the dragon like creature yawn. Chelsea even stole a glance behind her to see it shift back to its original form. Just as pompous looking as Will. She shook her head. Nearly human looking herself, the shape-shifter walked over to a watering trough and spooned some of the liquid to her lips.
"You dropped one again." Chelsea dug through her papers to produce a yellow tinted letter.
Instantly, the boy snatched it from her grasp.
"Gees, Chels, how do you catch these things?" He turned the letter over, his brisk walk slowing only slightly to read the address. "Ah, crap! This is Mrs. Loveingston's! She was expecting this yesterday."
"Mrs. Loveingston?" Chelsea paused in thought. "Isn't she the one who sometimes has those community meetings?"
"Yeah." Will nodded. "And she's all the way back where I come from."
"Wow! That's like," she counted her fingers, "seven platforms over! Bet you'll be hearing from her too."
"Oh, not this time. I got class tonight." Arriving at the drop-off point, they pushed through the double doors into a small building where a gentleman greeted them at the counter.
"Hey there, son," the man said. "See you've a load for us today." He took the bag and poured its contents into a large bin for sorting. "No boxes today, huh?"
Will smiled.
"Sorry, Mr. Johnson, nothing yet."
"Ah, well. Have a good one then."
Chelsea followed Will back outside. Her village was not large like some of the others. Being one of the last settlements, they were the last to receive mail, which meant extra time to check out the shape-shifter Will had recently obtained from his father. Saffron was her name, just as wild looking in her original form as she was in her shifted appearances. Always, she kept her white hair cut back in static waves of intwined feathers and braids.
"Can't ride today, Chels," Will said without even turning to look at her.
She could feel a pout coming on, but instead held firm. I mustn't look like a baby in front of his mount.
"Oh, that's all right. I'm due for my own soon anyhow," she replied.
Will only laughed.
"You're so full of it, Chels. You know you can't be a carrier."
"Why couldn't I? You don't think a girl could brave the sky? You've seen how I ride."
Saffron was waiting just outside town when the two arrived, bickering over carriers again. With a shake of her head, Chelsea got another earful about the dangers of high-speed chases from Ember Mages, wicked electrical storms, and going for days without food or water just to reach the next destination.
"I'd like to meet an Ember Mage," she said thoughtfully. Of all stories containing elemental-users, the Ember Mages fascinated her most. "Just think what it would be like to walk through fire and not even get burned."
"Yeah," Will looked doubtful, "then feel their full power blasting hot ash in your face. That's how my dad got that scar across his cheek. They're totally evil! Don't ever go near one."
He whistled for his companion to shift so they could be off.
"Oh, sure! Like one would really come around these boring parts."
"Ya never know, young one," Will's shape-shifter answered once in her dragon form. "It wasn't too long ago one actually came this way. I had the pleasure of fending it off." The creature raised its head with pride. "Got an honorary metal to prove it."
Chelsea just waved the comment aside.
"That was back when we were still developing Sundire, before I was even born!"
"Still, one was here," was the huffy reply.
"Doesn't count." Chelsea rolled her eyes. "I will be a Carrier one day. You'll see."
Will waved goodbye as his mount lifted off into the sky. While watching them playfully dip through wisps of clouds, Chelsea sat down next to the landing platform to draw. The clink of pencil against the board made for a quick dash to retrieve it. Too late, it vanished over the side.
"You gotta' be kidding me!" She sighed and looked around at all the pages from her pad flung on the ground from the sudden movement. "That was my last one." She rose and started collecting the sketches. "Better run over to Mr. Johnson's before they close and order more."
As she sat to reorganized the papers back into her pad, a half torn letter flipped into view.
"Will, you're terrible at keeping letters together," she said to herself, turning it over to read the address. "Faulkner? That's Will's last name." It was so tempting to open the partially torn envelope that she decided to take a peek at the first few words shown in the opening.
We are in dire...
"Oh, it's probably for Will's father." Chelsea stood and stuffed the envelope under her arm, her pad under the other. "Though I can't believe Will missed this. He's usually good about keeping his family stuff straight." She took out the letter again and looked at the words. "But I wonder why he didn't get this delivered first when his house is right there at the drop-off point?"
Curiosity getting the better of her, Chelsea carefully folded the opening back so that it wouldn't rip. A green tinted piece of paper slipped out. Unfurling each section, she began to read.
To The Head Council Member, James Faulkner. Good day, Mr. Faulkner, we are in dire need of your assistance. A renegade shape-shifter was last seen heading toward Sundire two days ago. It is considered extremely dangerous and must be handled with great caution. I trust this message reaches you before the creature causes any damage. With greatest respect, Timothy Cecil.
"Cecil?" Chelsea studied at the name. "I'm not familiar with that name. He must live beyond the Great Gap." She turned to stare through the rich blue sky, barely able to make out the next village through the haze of drifting clouds in the distance.
SUMMARY:
Chelsea goes back to her place only to find the renegade shape-shifter named Ego hiding out in her bedroom. He's looking for a new carrier because the last two he had were too proud and inexperienced to realize they couldn't handle the Great Gap. Now the council is after him because they think he's responsible for a carrier that disappeared into the Great Gap. The carrier who's missing is Will. Chelsea knows she has to find him, so Ego agrees to fly her there. While there they encounter terrifying storms and Ember Mages. Ego and a few others are the only ones experienced enough to brave the Great Gap. The reason for the storms is due to the elemental-users practicing their magic. Ego has connections with some of the Ember Mages, so Chelsea gets to meet them. They find Will, who's hurt his leg and can't walk, and take him back to Sundire. There, the people want to condemn Ego for kidnapping Chelsea and endangering a carrier. When Chelsea thinks she'll never see Ego again, Will makes a final plea on Ego's behalf due to his father being head of the Council. Chelsea becomes an official Carrier and Ego gains back his honor.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Comic Update Prologue
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Latest Comic Page
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Time Lapse Painting
Time Lapse painting for fan art - "Plant Spirit". Character copyright © AlectorFencer
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Giving Energy - WIP
This is a work in progress