Creative Corner

. . . . . . .Traversing half the breadth of the Leviathan was bad enough for Fromelda, solid ground gone and only a few planks of wood between her and ice cold water. But their departure from Oileán Lár had to be done under the cover of pitch dark night too. Tidus provided additional cover, expertly coaxing the wandering mists to clog the air as they rode off. Silus said he’d done the same thing for them when he brought her to the island. The trip was dark, cold, and stupidly damp. With the deafening pressure of the fog, Fromelda could feel nothing but water over her every inch.
. . . . . . .It was hours before they reached the mainland. Slow going, since Silus had kept the motor running as little as possible. More than once, the telltale hooom of another boat’s horn shuddered eerily towards them from out the fog. But the mists served their purpose. Their crossing finished, unhindered. Fromelda privately swore never to set foot on a boat again. Abandoning their stolen Ombra vessel at the bottom of the river canyon, safe from prying eyes should they need it again, they made the rest of their journey to the Cairnstone District on foot. It took three days. It wasn't fun. They traveled only at night, straddling the district lines between the R.O.C.C. and malignant Boneyard. They were forced to rest in hidden spaces along the way. Renting a room wasn’t an option.
. . . . . . .“I have to question why the Admins already have your mugshot,” Silus noted as they cut briefly through a neighborhood. There were posters of her face plastered on signposts with alarming frequency.
. . . . . . .“They would pick that one,” Fromelda complained. “My eye’s all swollen and I didn't get a smile in.”
. . . . . . .They reached the Cairnstone Quarry in the wee hours of morning, a wet morning that had slowly soaked both of them through. And Fromelda had been in a bad enough mood already. So when Einarr Edapholo groggily opened his door to her insistent pounding, it wasn’t all that surprising that she responded to seeing his face by punching him squarely in the nose.
. . . . . . .“Unnecessary,” Silus quipped. He rolled his eyes as he followed Fromelda, pushing an obviously stunned Einarr, into the house.
. . . . . . .“No more silence!” Fromelda somehow managed to shove the considerably larger dragon back into a nearby chair. “You tell me what you know about Ombra, and you tell me now.”
. . . . . . .Einarr leaned back, gingerly pinching his nose, testing for damage. Bruised but not broken, he dropped his hand and said, “Fromelda, you’re alive! I so relieved, really-”
. . . . . . .“I don’t want to hear it,” Fromelda snapped. “Ombra. Speak. Now.”
. . . . . . .“Maybe you don’t, but it’s true,” Einarr said. “I’m truly happy to see you alive. When you were attacked I, I knew. I felt it.”
. . . . . . .Silus perked up. “Attacked? An intriguing choice of words. Not ‘fell’, not ‘jumped’, as the papers are reporting. How did you come to that conclusion? How did you know?”
. . . . . . .Einarr hesitated, yet under the intense scrutiny of both of them he seemed to cave. His shoulders sagged, and he let out a breath that moved his whole body. A tired, weary sound.
. . . . . . .“I knew this wouldn't end well,” Einarr said. “I’ve never met Daedalus Ombra. But I know his wife very, very well. And if he’s anything like her, then I knew that story he gave the Admins was false. You were looking into Ombra, Fromelda. And in extension, him. Besides, that claim of his is just flat out bogus. The river alone would’ve deterred you from jumping. And you never back down from a fight.”
. . . . . . .Fromelda sat down across from him, looking him dead in the eyes. “Tell me what you know, Einarr.”
. . . . . . .“Not nearly as much as I should and . . . I couldn’t tell you, Fromelda, I just couldn’t.” He ran a dish-plate sized hand through his earthy hair. His face was pained, moreso than ever before. “All I’ve done is sell them stone. I promise you, that’s it. I know my word isn’t much now, but it’s the truth. I wasn’t going to work with Ombra. They approached me months ago, back when they first started expanding their locations. Best stone comes from my mines, they knew that. I did a few project walks with ‘em, everything seemed clean and the money would’ve been good. But still.”
. . . . . . .Einarr paused again, leaning forward to stare at his clasped hands. “I can’t rightly explain it. Something in me just said no. Don’t do it. Don’t work with ‘em. So I turned down the jobs. They kept coming back. No matter how many times I refused, they kept asking. Raising their offers, sweetening my side of the contract. Kept saying no, I did. I was always polite, and so were they. That is, until she came.”
. . . . . . .His clasped fingers tightened. Every muscle in his thick arms tensed up.
. . . . . . .“I’d seen Dahlia, on all the billboards, the picture box. Unmistakable. She took me on a ‘date’, she called it. Lunch and an afternoon at Crumble Canyon park. Very friendly. Very open. She said straight up that she was hoping to convince me. There was no stronger stone for their structures than mine, she told me, and Ombra wouldn’t settle for second best. I refused her again. She didn’t seem offended. When we came back here, I still tried to be nice to her. Brought her in for tea, just the two of us. And then she said she knew exactly the motivation to change my mind.”
. . . . . . .Einarr rose and walked over to a small side table, pressed up against a wall dotted in photos of dragons, all shapes and sizes. Fromelda immediately noticed her own visage amidst the clutter, a newspaper clipping from the day she’d opened her agency, all smiles and excitement. Oddly, a happy day she couldn’t remember. Einarr reached out and plucked a photo from the wall. He held it close.
. . . . . . .“She walked right over here. Took her time looking these over, quiet as a pocketmouse. And then she told me, if I cared at all, I would sign the Ombra contract.”
. . . . . . .“She threatened you,” Fromelda said.
. . . . . . .“Not me. Not, well, not outright. She’s clever. And she’s vicious. I, I did try to call her bluff,” Einarr said. “But she started sending me photos. A lot of them.”
. . . . . . .“Do you still have them?” Silus asked.
. . . . . . .Einarr nodded. Retreating into a back room then returning, he places a pile of photographs on the table. There were dozens. Probably more.
. . . . . . .“That’s me!” Fromelda held up the first photo she’d grabbed. It was her, a view from behind, bent over her office desk. Obviously snapped through her wide open window.
. . . . . . .“I am also included.” Silus was examining an image of himself climbing up a set of stairs. He was frowning. “This is the private entrance into my tower workshop. Only approved staff should have access.”
. . . . . . .Fromelda flipped her photo over. On the back, in pretty, looping writing, read, Hard at work!
. . . . . . .“I know this handwriting,” Fromelda said. “The files I opened, in Ombra Tower. The black ones all had one last line written in the same script. So it’s Dahlia’s, then.”
. . . . . . .Silus and Fromelda shuffled through the photos. It wasn’t just the two of them pictured. Linda too, and Gwendolyn, and Abascus Archimedes. Even Tidus, long distance shots of the few forays out of his hermit hole of a house onto his island’s surface. There were five more dragons among the mix. Fromelda knew them all vaguely by first glance, though not well. However, their inclusion struck her immediately.
. . . . . . .“Silus . . .”
. . . . . . .“Yes,” Silus agreed. “They’re like us. Only like us. It seems we are on the correct trajectory after all.”
. . . . . . .“Einarr, I just don't get it. I mean, she didn’t threaten you,” Fromelda asked.
. . . . . . .Einarr just blinked sad eyes at her. “Because I care about your safety, and the safety of my friends.”
. . . . . . .Fromelda resisted rolling her own eyes. She’d dealt with his unusual fondness before. She put down another photo of herself, this one an uncomfortably close shot of her exhausted and bleary-eyed outside her office door, very late at night. On the back it read, Up far too late to be safe! She picked up a handful of others in its stead, all of one dragon in particular.
. . . . . . .“More than half of these are of just one dragon,” she said pointedly. “Why?”
. . . . . . .Einarr’s muddied cheeks darkened, just ever so slightly. Reluctantly he said, “She knows, Dahlia does, she knows how to twist the dagger. I am most concerned for the missus’ safety, and Dahlia senses it. Whenever she feels the need to remind me of my place, Dahlia sends me photos of her.”
. . . . . . .“I’ve met this dragon before,” Fromelda realized. “Just for questions, not that she ever gave me any straight answers. Sheedy, I think. Owns the Amphitheatre down in the R.O.C.C.”
. . . . . . .“Siofra,” Einarr added, pointedly looking down at his hands.
. . . . . . .Fromelda raised an eyebrow at his tone, oddly soft against his normal tough-as-granite. Silus took the opportunity to explain everything to Einarr as Fromelda fell silent, thinking. She flipped over the photo she held, a snap only a few feet away from Ms. Sheedy in a poorly lit alleyway. It’s dangerous to play in the dark, the back read.
. . . . . . .“I’m not going to hide in the middle of the lake,” Einarr said after Silus suggested it. “At least not until I’m sure Siofra and the rest of my friends will be safe.”
. . . . . . .“I like how she’s first on your list,” Fromelda noted dryly. Still, a small, marginally amused smirk made its way to her lips. She was less angry at him now. A little less, not a lot. She understood the desire to protect others at your own expense. “Tidus believes if we can get all the ‘eleven’ together, answers will come. We'll find our missing dragons, why Ombra's involved. I’m not as nearly as optimistic as he is, but I’ll take allies against that tar pit Daedalus wherever I can. I’m still steaming, Einarr. You should’ve said something. Blazes, at least to me! But, let’s just make this right. Come with us to the R.O.C.C., maybe your relationship with Sheedy can help.”
. . . . . . .“I will,” Einarr agreed. A pause, a weak smile, and he added, “It’s usually safer not to tell you things, my friend. Lest you get thrown off more buildings.”








It seems little Ricky wasn't the only one who enjoys some clandestine photography.


(Onboarding our new manager this week, so may only get this one page up until next week, so a smidge longer for you guys :3)


Pinglist
@Hinumi
@Beatoriche
@Severing
@Skyeset
@Khyra
@Polymorphus
@StrykeSlammerII
@DreamerRho

. . . . . . .Reaching the Amphitheater wasn’t easy. Descending into the R.O.C.C. meant forgoing the convenient rocky spaces of Cairnstone and funneling down into the cramped labyrinthine streets. Beneath the precariously built apartments, whose upper floors leaned worryingly close together, it was oppressively dark. Brief puddles of lamplight, or bright rays from the cracks between curtains, were the only reprieves from the shadows. They weren’t quiet shadows. In the darkness dragons milled and skittered, muffled chatter and unnerving giggles often wafting out of passed alleys, to end abruptly without a trace.
. . . . . . .Fromelda didn’t like the darkness, not one bit. But without the oppressive silence she expected of it, it wasn’t that bad. And at least it was to their advantage. It proved easy enough to duck into one of the million tiny alleys or tight nooks whenever an Ombra came close. And there were many of them. Ombra’s presence in the R.O.C.C. was heavier than any district Fromelda had seen so far.
. . . . . . .“Patrol patterns,” Silus noted as they watched four Ombra employees pass by their hiding spot. “They’re on high alert.”
. . . . . . .“Why here more than Cairnstone?” Fromelda wondered, beckoning the boys forward once the coast was clear.
. . . . . . .“It’s for Siofra,” said Einarr. “Must be.”
. . . . . . .“Is she in cahoots with them too?” Fromelda quipped.
. . . . . . .Einarr took a nice deep breath before replying. “No. At least, I don’t believe so. But they’ve always paid her an awful lot of attention. She told me once that Ombra offered to invest in her club. She said she declined.”
. . . . . . .“Well, you caved to their demands,” Fromelda noted, adding, “Under duress. She could’ve too. And she’s not exactly the paragon of dependability you are.”
. . . . . . .Einarr huffed. “Let’s just get there and ask. I haven’t spoken to her in weeks. I don’t know what’s changed.”
. . . . . . .Getting to the Amphitheater was hard enough. But once they reached it, getting in seemed almost impossible. From the window of a rented room, at an exorbitant price for the innkeeper’s silence, they could survey the sunken ruins housing Sornieth City’s most popular club. And it was crawling with Ombra.
. . . . . . .“Look at them all!” Fromelda grumbled. “They must have half their workforce out there.”
. . . . . . .“It seems our fears concerning Miss Sheedy grow more likely,” Silus noted.
. . . . . . .Oddly enough, Fromelda now disagreed. “No. Look at the way they patrol. Their attention is always focused in, towards the Amphitheater. This isn’t about keeping anyone out. It’s about keeping someone in.”
. . . . . . .“Either way, their patterns are thorough,” said Silus. “Likelihood of our infiltration, without getting spotted, is less than 20%.”
. . . . . . .Fromelda frowned out the window, rubbing her aching middle as she considered their options. Though she loathed to admit it, she wasn’t ready for any sort of confrontation. Gwendolyn had healed the worst of the injury, but her body was still slow. Slower than it should’ve been. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she could get some real sleep. The nights brought all the aches back, and with them the memories of cold, creeping dark. The memories, dreams maybe, had gotten so bad they’d wake her hard out of a sound sleep. So vivid sometimes, that she swore she could feel the creeping that had been swallowing her skin slither back and off her into the dark. Fromelda tried not to think about it. Whatever the case, she was slow, for now. Caution was necessary.
. . . . . . .“I have a thought,” she said to the others. “Best way in might be with the crowds. They’re letting packs through security, without really checking them over.”
. . . . . . .“We do not blend in,” Silus started.
. . . . . . .Fromelda interrupted him. “No, we don’t. Not with regular dragons. But we could, maybe, pass as Ombra.”
. . . . . . .Silus went quiet, considering it. Einarr tugged on his beard.
. . . . . . .“Could work,” Einarr agreed. “Better than sneaking. I’m not the best at sneaking.”
. . . . . . .Fromelda nodded. “It’ll be sneaky, just in plain sight. We passed a shop on the way in. It had fake Ombra masks in the window. If we can find clothes that fit the image, we’d be set.”
. . . . . . .“I would have to see the disguises before giving a full assessment. Yet, given the narrow options available, we should consider this our best solution,” Silus said.








Short page today, but will post another later, and maybe a pic if I finish Silus this week!


Pinglist
@Hinumi
@Beatoriche
@Severing
@Skyeset
@Khyra
@Polymorphus
@StrykeSlammerII
@DreamerRho

. . . . . . .By the following night, they had what they needed. The beauty of an Ombra disguise was that it didn’t have to be a perfect match. The clothes, at least. Ombra employees dressed thematically the same but weren’t beholden to a set uniform. They all had pins, however, worn devoutly over their hearts. You never saw an Ombra without one. You could tell an Ombra’s rank and job title by their pin alone. Fromelda had worried just a little about that detail. But the dingy little shop where they bought their three masks, selling mostly invisible sweaters and googly eyes of every color, proved doubly useful. The shopkeep brought out a secreted stash of replica pins for them to pick from. To go with their masks, the dragon proudly proclaimed.
. . . . . . .“I think this might actually work,” Einarr said as they adjusted the finishing touches on their disguises.
. . . . . . .As they took turns in front of the mirror, Fromelda couldn’t help but agree. Nearly every inch of skin hidden behind the stockings, gloves, and chin-high undershirts popular with all Ombra females, she found herself unrecognizable. She’d plaited her hair tight to her head, with a little help from Silus’s fastidious attention to detail. Her face was covered completely by the mock-porcelain mask; a coatl, in metallic coal and fire smoke. She’d found that fitting. A black skirt and matching small jacket over a starched cream shirt finished the look.
. . . . . . .“It’s certainly believable, especially in the dark,” Fromelda agreed. She laced her fingers together in front of her hips, adjusting her posture to mimic the salesdragon she was pretending to be. She tried not to fidget with the extra wrappings around her chest. She’d never seen an Ombra as proportionate as she, so things had needed a little temporary squashing down. She looked over at the boys again, both as sharp and starched as she. Silus had picked an eldritch ridgeback to hide his long nose. Einarr preferred a wider tan snapper. Fromelda avoided making eye contact. Those golden snapper smiles were still rolling around in her head.
. . . . . . .With all that could have gone wrong, the infiltration went without a hitch. They joined the throng of dragons bustling into the Amphitheater and passed through the doors unhindered. They weren’t the only ‘Ombra’ who’d gone into the club that night. But they made sure to steer clear of those others once inside. Einarr’s broad body led the way, making an easy path through the packed corridors circling the main club floor. He seemed to know where he was going. And wherever that was, they had to cross the main floor to get there. It was a good thing they’d planned everything out in advance. The pounding horns of the band playing their hearts out would’ve drowned out any conversation. This was definitely the loudest place in the R.O.C.C.
. . . . . . .Fromelda had been inside the Amphitheater only once before, for a reluctant interview of the Sheedy girl at the same enormous club arena. During the daytime, the place had been all but dead, save the near-constant whispering one could always hear from seemingly empty, dark corners. It’d been a mess too. Fromelda had assumed it’d be at least moderately better when the club was operating. She’d been wrong. Stairs spiraled around the inside of the whole theatre. Down below these crumbling steps, where dragons lounged and cackled and cavorted in droves, the dance floor was a pile of happily flailing bodies that often tripped over junk that didn’t belong there.
. . . . . . .They skirted the edge of the dance floor, dodging eager dragons trying to collide with them for one reason or another. There were Ombra in the mosh pit too. Fromelda watched them carefully, trying not to look like she was. Had she not been recently assaulted by their boss, watching an Ombra dance their oddly stiff little dances would’ve put her in splits. It wasn’t funny anymore, not when any one of them could’ve been a spy for their big boss. Once they’d successfully crossed the dance floor, Einarr veered left, vanishing into the dark of a well hidden entrance.
. . . . . . .Down, down, the hallway curved. At the end of the hall was a wide room. And a door. Einarr walked right to it, ignoring the few dragons and Ombra who were loitering nearby. They pretty much ignored the three of them too. But not completely. Fromelda saw it, caught the subtle, completely in sync glance all the Ombra in the room gave them. Her hackles raised. They knew. Or at least suspected something amiss. Standing behind Silus as Einarr knocked politely on the purple door, she fought to keep her body relaxed. The Ombra were no longer looking at them. But that meant nothing. Were they like their boss: blank friendly faces hiding unbridled strength? Boisterous, amicable, and dangerously fake.
. . . . . . .“No one’s in,” was the reply from behind the door, barely audible over Einarr’s incessant knocks.
. . . . . . .“Delivery ma’am,” Einarr said. Then, providing a phrase he’d assured would get them in, “Eleven pallets for the one, as you ordered.”
. . . . . . .There was a pause, then a click. “Enter.”








Been sick sorry guys, here's at least a 2nd page for this week. Silus is almost done, I need to stop fussing over clean lines on a sketch :P On the plus side I now have references for each of the cast....except Gwendolyn, though I've got a good mental image. Linda will be next I think.



Pinglist
@Hinumi
@Beatoriche
@Severing
@Skyeset
@Khyra
@Polymorphus
@StrykeSlammerII
@DreamerRho

@Claudea Ahhhh I am SO behind on this ;-; so I may have a lot of comments on old stuff here here <_<; ( and thanks for keeping me on the pinglist, I was really happy to see so many when I logged in <3 ) [quote]“And you have a reputation for lighting things on fire and then punching them. Not necessarily in that order.”[/quote] <3 <3 <3 [quote]“Do I get a guess?” Fromelda piped up. “My guess is a spoon. Definitely a spoon. Let’s begin a city wide search immediately.” [/quote] ^_^ I so love your Flamemom XD I will try not to just keep quoting her now >_> [quote].“I am certain the ‘eleven’ are individuals,” said Tidus. [/quote] The [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost_in_the_Shell:_Stand_Alone_Complex#Season_2]Individual Eleven[/url]? I'm sure it wasn't an intentional reference, it's probably a horrible crossover idea, and I probably don’t want to know where it goes -shushes self- [quote]“Dragons have certain traits, certain defining features. Scales, feathers, fur, wings. And yet we don’t. Not long ago I caught my own reflection in the glass, and said to myself, ‘Who is that? What are you?’ Like I was seeing myself for the first time. Do you not ask yourselves the same questions?” [/quote] Oh, good, thank you for bringing up the obvious question ^^ it has kinda been bugging me that no one has addressed it yet :/ Also, congrats on the promotion!!

. . . . . . .Fromelda followed the others inside and shut the door behind them. “Lock it,” Einarr advised, so she did. Pushing through a jungle of hanging drapes and curtains, they came out into a boudoir, weakly lit and stuffy.
. . . . . . .“What in the gods’ names are you wearing?”
. . . . . . .It was definitely Siofra Sheedy who spoke, though she hadn’t yet bothered to come out from the shadows. Fromelda could never mistake a voice quite like her’s. Sticky. There was no better word to describe it, little sense that it made. Fromelda focused her eyes on where she assumed the dragon was hiding in the gloom.
. . . . . . .“It was our only way in.” Einarr took off his mask, holding it politely to his chest like a gentledragon would a hat.
. . . . . . .“Oh?” The shadows seemed curious.
. . . . . . .“We couldn’t risk being recognized,” Einarr explained.
. . . . . . .“Bringing trouble to my doorstep?” There was a sound, almost a chuckle. A wet one. Then Miss Sheedy said, with surprising candor, “You always bring me the best gifts.”
. . . . . . .Einarr shifted on his feet. In the weird undulating candlelight, he looked almost flushed. Fromelda suppressed a sigh. Flirtations would have to wait.
. . . . . . .“Trouble’s been at your door for a while, if I understand it,” Fromelda said, unwilling to wait on Einarr as he composed himself. “We have reason to believe you might be in danger.”
. . . . . . .The shadows stirred, not where they’d all been looking, rather far to the right. Miss Sheedy rose from a chair that Fromelda had been absolutely certain was empty three seconds prior, and came up close. Her liquid eyes narrowed. Inky purple pools so dark they could be black. “Have we met?”
. . . . . . .One finger tipped up Fromelda’s mask, and unexpected recognition crossed Miss Sheedy’s face. “Hey you, Miss P.I., long time no-see.” She walked over to Silus, exposing his face too. “And the big boss-man? Now I’m really curious.”
. . . . . . .“Have you been . . . are you all right?” Einnar asked.
. . . . . . .“Never better,” she answered. “Why do you ask?”
. . . . . . .Einarr seemed to hesitate, still holding that mask close against his stomach. But his rock-solid resolve returned. Squaring his shoulders, he said, “I should have told you this a long time ago. I’ve been . . . working with the Ombra, if you can even call it that.” Einarr explained the reason for their visit as succinctly as he could. “They aren’t, they’re not safe, Siofra. The Ombra. You aren’t safe here.”
. . . . . . .“Yes?” was her reply. The silent, unspoken And? was obvious.
. . . . . . .“You don’t seem the least bit surprised by any of this,” Fromelda said.
. . . . . . .“I’m not sure how much weight I give to this prophecy of yours. But Ombra’s trouble. You want to give them trouble back. I’m up for that. Besides,” Siofra added with a slight roll of her eyes, “No one permanently hidden behind a mask is up to anything good. That was obvious from the get-go.”
. . . . . . .“You keep a lot of them around, knowing they’re dangerous,” Fromelda pressed.
. . . . . . .“If I had a choice, I wouldn’t.” Siofra plopped down on a nearby stool.
. . . . . . .Fromelda frowned. “It’s your club. Why don’t you kick ‘em out?”
. . . . . . .Siofra blinked at her. Her reply was slow and rather pointed. “Because Dahlia wouldn’t approve. And you, Miss P.I., should know full well what happens when you cross an Ombra.”
. . . . . . .Fromelda’s stomach throbbed as if in answer. “She threaten you?”
. . . . . . .“Nothing I could bring to the Admins,” Siofra said. Looking to Einarr, she added, “She’s clever like that, isn’t she Rockstar?”
. . . . . . .Einarr stared a moment before replying. “You . . . you knew?”
. . . . . . .That quirk in Siofra’s lip softened, just a teensy little bit. “As soon as she and her goons showed up, you stopped coming by. She thinks herself sly behind that mask. But I know her game. Separate and isolate. She didn’t like how close we were. Are. So far I’ve been laying low. Which seems to have been the right move, since I haven’t been tossed off any skyscrapers lately. I’ve let her think I’m compliant, that I don’t want trouble.” She paused, catching Einarr’s amused eye. “Not easy. I haven’t left these rooms in almost three weeks.”
. . . . . . .“But why? Why you, what for?” Fromelda asked. “That’s what I don’t flaming get about all of this. I know why I’m on Ombra’s bad side, I’m pulling the skeletons out of their closet. They want Einarr to supply for them. Silus is, well, Silus. But why are they harassing you?”
. . . . . . .Siofra blinked languidly, then shrugged. “Prophecy?”
. . . . . . .The little flame flickered alive within Fromelda’s breast. It almost startled her. It’d been completely silent since the attack at the tower. The warmth of it, no matter how small, was incredibly reassuring. It was also rather useful. It was a great fib meter.
. . . . . . .“Look, we don’t have much time here,” Fromelda said. “If you don’t want to talk to us, if you want to deal with this on your own, fine. Say so. Don’t jerk us around. But think it through. You say you’re trapped here. Maybe we can help. But you have to help us in turn. Tell us what Ombra wants from you.”
. . . . . . .Siofra sat very still, and very silent, for an awkwardly long minute. The shadows seemed to darken around her. Fromelda got the impression that Siofra would very much like to sink back into the privacy of the dark.
. . . . . . .“They want me.” Siofra broke the silence.
. . . . . . .“Why?” Fromelda pressed.
. . . . . . .Siofra almost shrugged again, but caught herself. Her shoulders seemed to sag, a brief moment of vulnerability as she looked to the floor. “I . . . I don’t know exactly. Just know what they’ve told me. What she’s told me.”
. . . . . . .“Dahlia?”
. . . . . . .Siofra nodded. “I’ve never met her mate. The lard never leaves that tower. But she comes. All the time. She’ll bring her friends, or so she calls them. Different ones, always Ombra, every time. More and more of them. They stick around after she leaves. Oh they’re super polite. And thanks to them, the club's booming. They buy drinks, dinner, pay entrance fees like anyone else. But she leaves them here on purpose. To watch me. And they’re everywhere, watching from every corner, every other seat, every shadow.” Her lip curled slightly. “Watching from the shadows is my thing.”
. . . . . . .“And she leaves them here to . . . what?” Fromelda kept pushing.
. . . . . . .“To intimidate me. They’ve never lifted a claw against me, never outright threatened me. Not when,” Siofra hesitated. Fromelda could feel it, her fear. Small, squashed, determinedly ignored, but there all the same. Fromelda waited, patient for once, until Siofra felt like speaking again. When she did, it was softer. “They want me to become part of their family.”









Sorry guys! WoW expansion hit, lawl. Having some fun and got distracted. Getting back into this, totally bought a wireless keyboard so I get little inspirations at work during lunch time.


Pinglist
@Hinumi
@Beatoriche
@Severing
@Skyeset
@Khyra
@Polymorphus
@StrykeSlammerII
@DreamerRho

@Claudea

I'm a bit... confused about their disguises. If they're all human (or in human form), and everyone else is, well, a dragon, then even with masks and all they'd still stick out, right?

[center]@Skyeset Hi there! Yes they stick out among regular dragons, but disguised as Ombra employees they fit in a smidge better. I realize that I really need more visuals to go with the story, sorry! I'll throw some up on the front page, we're far enough along that they won't spoil anything. Here's some samples of what Ombra employees look like, Dahlia and then a random other Ombra. Hope that makes a little more sense D: [img]https://i.imgur.com/Uv50ybO.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/DszY64S.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/8D99J0N.png[/img] lol hands[/center]

[center]OK and because it might take me 10 years to stop fussing with the lines on his darn suit, here's my Silus for now (I will upload the cleaned-up version once I finish it). Wanted to put it up here at least. I liked this drawing a month ago and now I'm like "something's off" probably the eyes but NOPE NO MORE ADJUSTMENTS ON TO LINDA!!! [img]https://i.imgur.com/HnRjU6n.png[/img] [/center] Pinglist @Hinumi @Beatoriche @Severing @Skyeset @Khyra @Polymorphus @StrykeSlammerII @DreamerRho