Yesterday's results
Mar. 14th, 2005 02:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lykomancer1) Didn't make it back to Anime Detour because of time and scheduling pressures. *sigh*
2) Um... undone. As undone as that other sketch of Teresa-san. Maybe I'll work on those tonight.
3) Done! And I'm really happy with the results. (And the community members all said that it was really in-character. Go me! Yatta!)
The sly, nervous laughter cut through the gruesome noises of the battle raging around Alexander Anderson, the sound of it hollow and trembling as it bounced off the inside of the plastic box that contained its source. It raised the hairs on the back of his broad neck and he bared his teeth against it, his chest vibrating in an irritated growl as he turned to stare at Enrico Maxwell, wide-eyed as a mad horse.
Loathing filled him at the sight of Maxwell taunting the vampiric minions that were scraping the outside of the box with their ghastly fingers, seeking out his warm blood, his warm life. The silken cloth of the bishop's stole that marked his recent advancement lay like a river of gold in the London dirt, incensing the regenerating priest further, and he was filled with a sharp, savage hatred for the sheer arrogance of the man; it filled him like the burning smoke and scent of blood all around him filled his lungs. The gates of Hell were blown open here before them all-- Hell on Earth-- with Satan's own clawing after his flesh and soul, and Maxwell was laughing, feeling safe behind a few millimeters of plastic polymer and the strip of embroidery around his neck-- a piece of regalia he had no right to wear.
Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. It is better to be of a humble spirit with the lowly than to divide the spoils with the proud.
His eyes narrowed as he dodged back a few steps, evading another rain of spears as Alucard finished off the few Nazi ghouls left still groaning around Anderson. The vampire wasn't intentionally aiming for him-- Anderson had his own private reservations about his survival rate if that were the case-- but he wasn't making any overt efforts to avoid him, either. That was fine by Anderson's book. He could avoid the weapons of the Devil on his own-- he needed neither mercy nor a shield. He was a righteous man.
"Caedite eos! Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius!"
Anderson whirled suddenly, a hot metallic taste leaping up into his mouth, his coat spinning out around him; the thoughts in his head collided, ricocheted, and organized themselves. This was no striking revelation; it was the fruition of quiet, latent suspicions that'd been haunting him for some time. If God knew His own, then Satan also certainly knew enough to claim those that were his, and never was this clearer to see than in those shadowy forms pressed up against the plastic.
The shining silver blade left his hand, and he felt no regret.
I can't say that I'm sorry, Father Maxwell. From this will arise a new order of the ages, and I can see clearly now who has kept the faith...and who has lost it.
____
"Pride goeth..." = Proverbs 16:18-19, KJV
"Caedite eos! Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius!" = "Slay them all! God will know His own!" The ralliying cry of Arnold Amaury, the head of the Cistersian Order and highest representative of the Pope during the Albigensian Crusade.
4) Went. Ate really good food served by a very sweet waitress. Wandered upstairs and watched men who were way prettier and more feminine than I will ever be strut their stuff. Gave them quite a bit of my money in exchange for polite cheek-kisses and got fairly drunk on vodka sours. Happy tail-wagging goodness.
Drag is a wonderful thing. Gender-play is a truly wonderful thing. *drool* Having hot drag queens say "Thank ya, darlin'" into your ear above the pounding music is a. wonderful. thing.
____
Y'know, I think I want to be in a relationship with someone who would sing this song --points to current music-- to/about me (without me having to tell them to). That'd be spiffy.
2) Um... undone. As undone as that other sketch of Teresa-san. Maybe I'll work on those tonight.
3) Done! And I'm really happy with the results. (And the community members all said that it was really in-character. Go me! Yatta!)
The sly, nervous laughter cut through the gruesome noises of the battle raging around Alexander Anderson, the sound of it hollow and trembling as it bounced off the inside of the plastic box that contained its source. It raised the hairs on the back of his broad neck and he bared his teeth against it, his chest vibrating in an irritated growl as he turned to stare at Enrico Maxwell, wide-eyed as a mad horse.
Loathing filled him at the sight of Maxwell taunting the vampiric minions that were scraping the outside of the box with their ghastly fingers, seeking out his warm blood, his warm life. The silken cloth of the bishop's stole that marked his recent advancement lay like a river of gold in the London dirt, incensing the regenerating priest further, and he was filled with a sharp, savage hatred for the sheer arrogance of the man; it filled him like the burning smoke and scent of blood all around him filled his lungs. The gates of Hell were blown open here before them all-- Hell on Earth-- with Satan's own clawing after his flesh and soul, and Maxwell was laughing, feeling safe behind a few millimeters of plastic polymer and the strip of embroidery around his neck-- a piece of regalia he had no right to wear.
Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. It is better to be of a humble spirit with the lowly than to divide the spoils with the proud.
His eyes narrowed as he dodged back a few steps, evading another rain of spears as Alucard finished off the few Nazi ghouls left still groaning around Anderson. The vampire wasn't intentionally aiming for him-- Anderson had his own private reservations about his survival rate if that were the case-- but he wasn't making any overt efforts to avoid him, either. That was fine by Anderson's book. He could avoid the weapons of the Devil on his own-- he needed neither mercy nor a shield. He was a righteous man.
"Caedite eos! Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius!"
Anderson whirled suddenly, a hot metallic taste leaping up into his mouth, his coat spinning out around him; the thoughts in his head collided, ricocheted, and organized themselves. This was no striking revelation; it was the fruition of quiet, latent suspicions that'd been haunting him for some time. If God knew His own, then Satan also certainly knew enough to claim those that were his, and never was this clearer to see than in those shadowy forms pressed up against the plastic.
The shining silver blade left his hand, and he felt no regret.
I can't say that I'm sorry, Father Maxwell. From this will arise a new order of the ages, and I can see clearly now who has kept the faith...and who has lost it.
____
"Pride goeth..." = Proverbs 16:18-19, KJV
"Caedite eos! Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius!" = "Slay them all! God will know His own!" The ralliying cry of Arnold Amaury, the head of the Cistersian Order and highest representative of the Pope during the Albigensian Crusade.
4) Went. Ate really good food served by a very sweet waitress. Wandered upstairs and watched men who were way prettier and more feminine than I will ever be strut their stuff. Gave them quite a bit of my money in exchange for polite cheek-kisses and got fairly drunk on vodka sours. Happy tail-wagging goodness.
Drag is a wonderful thing. Gender-play is a truly wonderful thing. *drool* Having hot drag queens say "Thank ya, darlin'" into your ear above the pounding music is a. wonderful. thing.
____
Y'know, I think I want to be in a relationship with someone who would sing this song --points to current music-- to/about me (without me having to tell them to). That'd be spiffy.
