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Description
Here is a picture of Nicki requested by forest-dream. Done in acrylics. (Can you spot Armand? I know...it's not hard. ^_^)

Here are the stocks I used:
(Dancers)
[link]
[link]
(Bonfire)
[link]
[link]
(Eleni)
[link]
[link]
(And Nicki...although I don't think I did him justice. He's more handsome than I depicted.)
[link]
[link]
[link]

(Man, that is a lot of stock! lol But at least I used my brother's violin as a still life.)

(Page 342 & 343 (a letter from Eleni) in The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice)
'And we must call together for him somewhere in the countryside the ancient Sabbat with its customary blaze. If we did not, then he would make the theater his funeral pyre.
Our Oldest Friend solemnly granted his wish and you have never seen such a Sabbat as this, for I think we looked all the more hellish in our wigs and fine clothes, our black ruffled vampire dancing costumes, forming the old circle, singing with an actor's bravado the old chants.
"We should have done it on the boulevard," he said. "But here, send this on to my maker," and he put the violin in my hands. We began to dance, all of us, to induce the customary frenzy, and I think we were never more moved, never more in terror, never more sad. He went into the flames.'

Description
Here is a picture of Nicki requested by forest-dream. Done in acrylics. (Can you spot Armand? I know...it's not hard. ^_^)

Here are the stocks I used:
(Dancers)
[link]
[link]
(Bonfire)
[link]
[link]
(Eleni)
[link]
[link]
(And Nicki...although I don't think I did him justice. He's more handsome than I depicted.)
[link]
[link]
[link]

(Man, that is a lot of stock! lol But at least I used my brother's violin as a still life.)

(Page 342 & 343 (a letter from Eleni) in The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice)
'And we must call together for him somewhere in the countryside the ancient Sabbat with its customary blaze. If we did not, then he would make the theater his funeral pyre.
Our Oldest Friend solemnly granted his wish and you have never seen such a Sabbat as this, for I think we looked all the more hellish in our wigs and fine clothes, our black ruffled vampire dancing costumes, forming the old circle, singing with an actor's bravado the old chants.
"We should have done it on the boulevard," he said. "But here, send this on to my maker," and he put the violin in my hands. We began to dance, all of us, to induce the customary frenzy, and I think we were never more moved, never more in terror, never more sad. He went into the flames.'