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Description
Screw this thing, it ended up waaaay to romantic. Some of you might know that I am writing a fantasy story. Well, this is a scene of it These are my characters Orion and Morgan, and despite what my drawing might suggest; they are not a couple.

Orion (the constellation, not my character ) is pretty accurate, but I have to admit that I just fooled along with the rest of the stars. I had so many problems with coloring this thing, even though it is pretty much grey scale! I never draw nightscapes, so I have no idea how lighting and colors work then. Also; everthing should be covered with snow. Oh well...

Is this thing too dark by the way? My monitors contradict each other; it looks great on one, but dreadful on the other...

detail of this pic can be found here:

---------------------------------------------

These two are part of a story I am working on, called 'a State of Equilibrium'.

You can find more info about the characters when you check out these pics:

Here is where I will dump more art and info about my OCs and my world:
queenofeagles.deviantart.com/g…

And here is the prologue of my story:
Prologue - a State of Equilibrium
There was that feeling again. He was used to it, after suffering from it for years. It was so unpleasant though that he still couldn't ignore it. It felt like his skin was pinched by thousands of hot, long needles. It always happened when it was time for him to wake up. Luckily it only lasted a second, and it was just a fraction of the misery that already darkened him. The pain faded, and he stood up in the middle of an endless sea of grass, blades moving slowly in the wind.  The pieces of his armour clattered softly against each other. Dark blood stained the shining metal, but it wasn't his. He wondered why he always wore it; he didn't need protection. Getting wounded was something he didn't care about. Maybe he should leave it behind. He started fumbling with the clasps of his armour, while he looked at his surroundings. Only a few gnarled trees were scattered amongst this dull, monotone la

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story snippet about this scene:

They walked down the hill, but didn't came far; Morgan started shaking so uncontrollably that she couldn't set another step. Her dress was soaked with half-molten snow. Great, now she was even colder than before. She cursed silently. The Hunter started fumbling with the clasp of his cape and took the piece of clothing off.

'Here, you need it more than I do,' he said, while he threw it around her shoulders.

'Th... Thanks,' she muttered. She instantly felt better. It was a good cape, even though it was torn and ragged at the edges. It was not just the warmth that was welcoming, but the fact that he cared about her made her feel more secure. It was such a weird feeling; she killed him, and yet he was there to help her out. She stared at the longsword and bow on his back. Wasn't it much easier for him to just shoot an arrow at her and be done with it? Why go through all this trouble? She felt more guilty about the what she had done. The memories about that moment returned, but she quickly locked them up in the back of her mind. This wasn't the right moment to think about what happened, it would probably turn her into an emotional wreck.  She wanted to forget it, and walked on. That turned out to be difficult enough; the cape was way too large for her, so she had to watch out not to step on it.

The Hunter looked troubled at her bare feet. 'I am afraid I do not have a pair of boots with me in your size. Shall I carry you? Nox can come to us as soon as we are out of the forest, but that will take roughly an hour.'

'Carry me?' Morgan laughed, and her spirit was lifted a bit. 'Thank you, but no.' Sure, she was tired and her feet were cold, but her pride wouldn't let it come to that. She could manage for another hour. Her dress however thought differently about it, and got stuck in the shrubbery again. Morgan tripped, and fell head first in the snow before she realized it.

'I hate this dress!' she shouted. The snow muffled her voice, making it sound much less angry than she was.

The Hunter grinned. 'I think I like it; it makes catching you a piece of cake.' He picked her up, as if he wanted to demonstrate how easy it was. Despite being tall herself - taller than the average female of her race - Morgan felt incredibly small in his arms, as if she was a child. The fact that she was wrapped up in his cape contributed strongly to that feeling.

'Please put me down, I can walk!'

'Sure you can,' but he marched on. Morgan couldn't miss the sarcasm in those words.

'Besides,' he continued, 'Saar always says that it would be good for me if I acted a bit more courteous.'

Who was Saar? She turned her head towards him to ask. She couldn't help staring at his eyes again, their colouring - or better; the lack of it - was just too interesting. The question left her tongue before she realized it, and it wasn't about Saar.

'Why are your eyes white?'

'I don't know; they used to be green.' He looked back at her. 'Same as yours actually, but a bit lighter.'

'Are they magical?'

'No, they are completely normal.'

Morgan did not expect that answer. Her mother told her many stories when she was young, folklore which often involved a creature with oddly coloured eyes. Eyes like those always did something special: see the future, look into someone's mind, or through walls and clothing - at least he can't do that, she thought. Well, if he spoke the truth of course, and she wasn't so sure of that. The thought gnawed at her, but she pushed it aside; time for another question, before he changed his mind about answering them. She took a breath and opened her mouth, but the Hunter spoke before she could say anything.

'I think I know what your next question is. My name is Orion. Orion of Westende.'

Orion... Morgan knew from the beginning that 'Hunter' couldn't possibly be his real name, but Orion was almost as unusual. On the other hand, 'of Westende' was one of the most common surnames you could have around here. Morgan looked for the constellation through the gaps in the canopy. She found it without difficulty; it was just above the eastern horizon. Most people thought it looked like an hourglass, but Morgan thought differently of it. Sure, the brightest stars were arranged in an hourglass-shape, but if you considered the smaller ones as well it looked like an archer with an arrow in his hand. A giant archer on the hunt, moving silently across the darkness of the sky. She grinned. Suddenly 'Orion' didn't sound like an odd name at all for the constellation's namesake. It was a bit too fitting, actually.

'You made that name up, didn't you?'

'Why do you think so?'

Morgan wanted to keep her theory about his name a bit longer to herself; it was not much more than a hunch. Morgan preferred to back up her ideas with proper arguments. Luckily, there was something else that gave him away.

'Your accent; You pronounce the 'g' too softly. You are not from Westende.'

He grinned. 'Damn, I practiced so hard on that.' He looked down. 'But neither are you; you're from the Islands.'

'How do you know that?'

'Your 'g' sounds like there is something stuck in your throat. There is only one place in the world where people talk like that.'

That didn't sound very flattering, and for good reason; Islanders were known for their harsh accent. It was something the Islanders themselves were very proud of, but it was considered rude and ugly in every other part of the continent.

'So what's your real name then, and where are you from?'

'That's something I rather keep for myself. It's a part of me I left behind,' a crooked smile appeared on his face. 'I am afraid you'll have to do with Orion of Westende.'

---------------------

Sorry for the wall of text; here's a cookie

Description
Screw this thing, it ended up waaaay to romantic. Some of you might know that I am writing a fantasy story. Well, this is a scene of it These are my characters Orion and Morgan, and despite what my drawing might suggest; they are not a couple.

Orion (the constellation, not my character ) is pretty accurate, but I have to admit that I just fooled along with the rest of the stars. I had so many problems with coloring this thing, even though it is pretty much grey scale! I never draw nightscapes, so I have no idea how lighting and colors work then. Also; everthing should be covered with snow. Oh well...

Is this thing too dark by the way? My monitors contradict each other; it looks great on one, but dreadful on the other...

detail of this pic can be found here:

---------------------------------------------

These two are part of a story I am working on, called 'a State of Equilibrium'.

You can find more info about the characters when you check out these pics:

Here is where I will dump more art and info about my OCs and my world:
queenofeagles.deviantart.com/g…

And here is the prologue of my story:
Prologue - a State of Equilibrium
There was that feeling again. He was used to it, after suffering from it for years. It was so unpleasant though that he still couldn't ignore it. It felt like his skin was pinched by thousands of hot, long needles. It always happened when it was time for him to wake up. Luckily it only lasted a second, and it was just a fraction of the misery that already darkened him. The pain faded, and he stood up in the middle of an endless sea of grass, blades moving slowly in the wind.  The pieces of his armour clattered softly against each other. Dark blood stained the shining metal, but it wasn't his. He wondered why he always wore it; he didn't need protection. Getting wounded was something he didn't care about. Maybe he should leave it behind. He started fumbling with the clasps of his armour, while he looked at his surroundings. Only a few gnarled trees were scattered amongst this dull, monotone la

---------------------------------------------

story snippet about this scene:

They walked down the hill, but didn't came far; Morgan started shaking so uncontrollably that she couldn't set another step. Her dress was soaked with half-molten snow. Great, now she was even colder than before. She cursed silently. The Hunter started fumbling with the clasp of his cape and took the piece of clothing off.

'Here, you need it more than I do,' he said, while he threw it around her shoulders.

'Th... Thanks,' she muttered. She instantly felt better. It was a good cape, even though it was torn and ragged at the edges. It was not just the warmth that was welcoming, but the fact that he cared about her made her feel more secure. It was such a weird feeling; she killed him, and yet he was there to help her out. She stared at the longsword and bow on his back. Wasn't it much easier for him to just shoot an arrow at her and be done with it? Why go through all this trouble? She felt more guilty about the what she had done. The memories about that moment returned, but she quickly locked them up in the back of her mind. This wasn't the right moment to think about what happened, it would probably turn her into an emotional wreck.  She wanted to forget it, and walked on. That turned out to be difficult enough; the cape was way too large for her, so she had to watch out not to step on it.

The Hunter looked troubled at her bare feet. 'I am afraid I do not have a pair of boots with me in your size. Shall I carry you? Nox can come to us as soon as we are out of the forest, but that will take roughly an hour.'

'Carry me?' Morgan laughed, and her spirit was lifted a bit. 'Thank you, but no.' Sure, she was tired and her feet were cold, but her pride wouldn't let it come to that. She could manage for another hour. Her dress however thought differently about it, and got stuck in the shrubbery again. Morgan tripped, and fell head first in the snow before she realized it.

'I hate this dress!' she shouted. The snow muffled her voice, making it sound much less angry than she was.

The Hunter grinned. 'I think I like it; it makes catching you a piece of cake.' He picked her up, as if he wanted to demonstrate how easy it was. Despite being tall herself - taller than the average female of her race - Morgan felt incredibly small in his arms, as if she was a child. The fact that she was wrapped up in his cape contributed strongly to that feeling.

'Please put me down, I can walk!'

'Sure you can,' but he marched on. Morgan couldn't miss the sarcasm in those words.

'Besides,' he continued, 'Saar always says that it would be good for me if I acted a bit more courteous.'

Who was Saar? She turned her head towards him to ask. She couldn't help staring at his eyes again, their colouring - or better; the lack of it - was just too interesting. The question left her tongue before she realized it, and it wasn't about Saar.

'Why are your eyes white?'

'I don't know; they used to be green.' He looked back at her. 'Same as yours actually, but a bit lighter.'

'Are they magical?'

'No, they are completely normal.'

Morgan did not expect that answer. Her mother told her many stories when she was young, folklore which often involved a creature with oddly coloured eyes. Eyes like those always did something special: see the future, look into someone's mind, or through walls and clothing - at least he can't do that, she thought. Well, if he spoke the truth of course, and she wasn't so sure of that. The thought gnawed at her, but she pushed it aside; time for another question, before he changed his mind about answering them. She took a breath and opened her mouth, but the Hunter spoke before she could say anything.

'I think I know what your next question is. My name is Orion. Orion of Westende.'

Orion... Morgan knew from the beginning that 'Hunter' couldn't possibly be his real name, but Orion was almost as unusual. On the other hand, 'of Westende' was one of the most common surnames you could have around here. Morgan looked for the constellation through the gaps in the canopy. She found it without difficulty; it was just above the eastern horizon. Most people thought it looked like an hourglass, but Morgan thought differently of it. Sure, the brightest stars were arranged in an hourglass-shape, but if you considered the smaller ones as well it looked like an archer with an arrow in his hand. A giant archer on the hunt, moving silently across the darkness of the sky. She grinned. Suddenly 'Orion' didn't sound like an odd name at all for the constellation's namesake. It was a bit too fitting, actually.

'You made that name up, didn't you?'

'Why do you think so?'

Morgan wanted to keep her theory about his name a bit longer to herself; it was not much more than a hunch. Morgan preferred to back up her ideas with proper arguments. Luckily, there was something else that gave him away.

'Your accent; You pronounce the 'g' too softly. You are not from Westende.'

He grinned. 'Damn, I practiced so hard on that.' He looked down. 'But neither are you; you're from the Islands.'

'How do you know that?'

'Your 'g' sounds like there is something stuck in your throat. There is only one place in the world where people talk like that.'

That didn't sound very flattering, and for good reason; Islanders were known for their harsh accent. It was something the Islanders themselves were very proud of, but it was considered rude and ugly in every other part of the continent.

'So what's your real name then, and where are you from?'

'That's something I rather keep for myself. It's a part of me I left behind,' a crooked smile appeared on his face. 'I am afraid you'll have to do with Orion of Westende.'

---------------------

Sorry for the wall of text; here's a cookie