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Cola82 — Morgan
Published: 2011-10-06 08:26:31 +0000 UTC; Views: 901; Favourites: 17; Downloads: 0
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Description
Sketch commission for the wonderful ~claireoujisama of her character Morgan (a fiendishly awesome lady in my opinion).Textures are by `cloaks and `hibbary . I also used a brush I downloaded from Wacom that came as a bonus with my tablet and I was really happy with it.
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Comments: 9
She's like a NOT-EBIL AND SCURRY Silent Hill sexy nurse...who rollerskates.
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It's wonderful, I love it. <3 And yes, Morgan is definitely a force unto herself, ha ha ha. For a bit of amusement, actually, I found a little extract of Morgan at the skating rink I once shared with a writing group and I figured it could be amusing here, too:
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When it is really all over, Erik grabs Eliot’s shoulder, jerks him towards the stairs before they can flood with people. “Come with me.”
Eliot doesn’t protest; even if he hadn’t known this was coming, in general he doesn’t run the risk of hurting those unlike himself by protesting such treatment. “Do you really think we’re going to be able to get anywhere near her? I mean…” He waves a hand at the people who crowd around them, many of them presumably heading towards the changing rooms. “It’s gonna be kind of tricky, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, maybe.” Not that this seems to put any sort of dent in his determined step. “Look, if we get one of the other girls, and you tell her to pass on a message, surely she’ll come out to speak to you?”
It should probably hurt that he can’t be sure of anything, when it comes to Holly and whatever passes for friendship between them. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
Erik shoots him a sharp look, but then he has to return his full concentration to getting them to the doorway of the hometeam’s changing rooms. As they are jostled by the crowd screaming for either autographs, photographs, or further bloodshed – Eliot can’t actually tell anymore – it strikes Eliot that he hasn’t seen Tess. He’d figured she had trailed along in their wake, but in the rainbow of colours around him he cannot even catch a glimpse of a girl in monochrome.
He’s turning to tell Erik so when he’s yanked backward and out of the crowd. They’re then moving swiftly down the walkway beside the rink, and Eliot looks back.
“Where’s Tess?”
“Oh, she probably went to get candy floss or something. She loves candy floss.”
“She went on her *own*?”
“She’ll call me if there’s a problem,” he says, patting the pocket of his jeans even as he keeps his eyes focused ahead. “But I think if maybe we cut through one of the service corridors, we might catch one of the players – they don’t usually come out this way, but if they’re not in the mood for the banshee crowd one of them might.”
The so-called service corridor is badly lit and cheerily decorated in damp concrete and bare pipes. There’s a shadow lurking at the far end, near what is presumably an exit to the outside world, and Eliot can’t help but think of zombies. Erik just moves faster. A moment later, despite the gloom, Eliot can see it’s actually the Hell, No Nurse. A flare of pleasure rises, though he tells himself he’s just glad it’s not some undead creature that’s going to want to explore the fine dining experience that is his left frontal lobe.
Being that he’s moving faster, Erik speaks to her first. There’s something combative in the woman’s stance, despite the ridiculous height of the stiletto heels she’d exchanged her skates for, but whatever Erik says to her causes her to look sharply around in Eliot’s direction. In the dim light, she is shrouded in shadow, but there’s something familiar about her. When it gets close a moment later, familiarity mutates rapidly into horror.
“*Morgan*?”
Her lips, blood-red and full, curve into a deep scowl. “What the f*ck are you doing here?”
“Never mind what the f*ck I am doing here, what the f*ck are *you* doing here?”
Neither of them want to answer that question, and so just settle for staring bloody murder at each other. Erik’s dark eyes flick back and forth, and then a small smile curves his own lips upward. “There’s an awful lot of f*cking going on here, isn’t there?”
“Shut up, Erik,” Eliot says, but he’s too shaken to look away from the cool gaze that pierces him like a freshly sharpened blade.
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It's all good times down the ol' skating rink, that's for sure. ^_~
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