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Description
Pounding on the door grew old after the first hour. Small dust clouds rained around her, and after a time she had to relent. No one had come after she hand been thrown into the ships hold, and it looked like no one was hurrying to come either.
The cambers she had been locked in did not lack for comfort, thick timbers surrounded the room but the furnishings were plush, if not perhaps even a little more comfortable that she had been used too. Soft light, filtered through the room, underneath it though there was an air of menace. Something in the subtle tones, were there.

A few well placed holes bored into the wall, the empty places where something had been before. Something, she was not supposed to see.

This would be the Carrot then.

It always seemed to begin this way, after a day or so the captain would grace her, feast her, and then titter over her beauty. Then the truth would slowly come bubbling to the surface, desires, cravings, and the need for dust.

Rumors had spread, tales of the legendary creatures that created dust out of thin air. Legends of a dust that could make a man’s spirt soar. If that were not tempting enough, the price people were willing to pay for such dust was enough to drive even the most civilized man to monstrous acts.

The wood seemed to mock her.

Fist closing, she took up her pounding again.

C.S. Notes: This was drawn in the dark. Yes, the dark. Sitting on a couch, while watching the last half of a Star Trek TNG. It was very therapeutic, as I had no Idea what I was drawing, and could not really see anything either, as my only light source was form a shifting television.

I feel compelled to mention that this was drawn on a simple sheet of printer paper, that was resting on my knee, no support.

What this allowed me to do was forgo all preformed expectations I had, all those rules about anatomy, proper shading, line and angles, expressions, and eyes! Eyes! Worse even than hands.

This was the first real pen and ink I have done in a long while, as I lost a lot of faith in my abilities. I made the mistake of showing my art to my smaller sibling, though much younger, she has a far greater skill set then I have ever developed. Long story short, my father let slip while I was visiting, that she considered my art style 'Primitive'. It says a lot to her credit that she would not say so to my face, but that barb still stung.

So, this was drawn for one simple reason alone: I wanted to.

Please, enjoy.

Yours,

C.S.

Description
Pounding on the door grew old after the first hour. Small dust clouds rained around her, and after a time she had to relent. No one had come after she hand been thrown into the ships hold, and it looked like no one was hurrying to come either.
The cambers she had been locked in did not lack for comfort, thick timbers surrounded the room but the furnishings were plush, if not perhaps even a little more comfortable that she had been used too. Soft light, filtered through the room, underneath it though there was an air of menace. Something in the subtle tones, were there.

A few well placed holes bored into the wall, the empty places where something had been before. Something, she was not supposed to see.

This would be the Carrot then.

It always seemed to begin this way, after a day or so the captain would grace her, feast her, and then titter over her beauty. Then the truth would slowly come bubbling to the surface, desires, cravings, and the need for dust.

Rumors had spread, tales of the legendary creatures that created dust out of thin air. Legends of a dust that could make a man’s spirt soar. If that were not tempting enough, the price people were willing to pay for such dust was enough to drive even the most civilized man to monstrous acts.

The wood seemed to mock her.

Fist closing, she took up her pounding again.

C.S. Notes: This was drawn in the dark. Yes, the dark. Sitting on a couch, while watching the last half of a Star Trek TNG. It was very therapeutic, as I had no Idea what I was drawing, and could not really see anything either, as my only light source was form a shifting television.

I feel compelled to mention that this was drawn on a simple sheet of printer paper, that was resting on my knee, no support.

What this allowed me to do was forgo all preformed expectations I had, all those rules about anatomy, proper shading, line and angles, expressions, and eyes! Eyes! Worse even than hands.

This was the first real pen and ink I have done in a long while, as I lost a lot of faith in my abilities. I made the mistake of showing my art to my smaller sibling, though much younger, she has a far greater skill set then I have ever developed. Long story short, my father let slip while I was visiting, that she considered my art style 'Primitive'. It says a lot to her credit that she would not say so to my face, but that barb still stung.

So, this was drawn for one simple reason alone: I wanted to.

Please, enjoy.

Yours,

C.S.