Even if alternating phases of writing with correction phases, when just a scene for the comic, I prefer to draw and write at the same time. If needed, I also write on the design itself! I like very much the studies, the tables of proofs, the drafts, also of classical artists and contemporary designers: they behave much more the way they work.
Hi Guys :3 ! I colored sketch during a break. I did a test of coloring with only 8 pastels, graphite, and black marker did not give the result that I was hoping but it did not come so bad. Would you like to see other studies on Raziel? And on the characters of LOK?
“Most of the Empire’s population at its peak were turned vampires save perhaps in the Necropolis. That is to say most were turned directly from living human to undead vampire. I think one remembers most of their lives as mortals before centuries begin to obscure memories.” Raziel chimed. He was settled cross legged among stacks of tomes today to which Kain would occasionally add. The wraith seemed more than pleased to satiate your curiosity.
“There was indeed a direct correlation between time risen after death and retention of mortal memory. My brothers and I were dead for a thousand years. An entire millennium. So far removed from our humanity were we that we came to be seen as the closest thing to pure vampires there was. Whatever that meant was open to interpretation but…” Raziel paused a moment to redirect his thoughts, idly drumming his claws at his cloaked collar bone.
“I don’t think any of us remembered anything. Freshly risen we were much too bewildered to question anything beyond what Kain would tell us. If we recalled anything it would likely be our very sudden violent death in combat, as risen vampires most vividly recall. If I did it was long forgotten and now replaced by the events in the Sarafan Stronghold from the opposite point of view… If any of my brethren remembered it they never shared. It is my hope that such a memory stayed forgotten especially as they each came to fall a second time to an acutely aggressive cerulean ghoul.” His thin shoulders rose and fell forward as he sighed. Raziel almost visibly wrenched himself out of a mire of guilt when a loud thud sounded. His sire dropped another book upon a pile. Dust had billowed from between the tomes and was sent dancing across feeble rays of candlelight.
“Kain remembers much more of his human life than we ever did.” Raziel said after a moment to which Kain merely acknowledged with, “Aye.” as he continued scrutinizing an extensive shelf of books.
“Perhaps the best story ever told.” The wraith mused. Kain turned to his fallen son and dropped another book into his lap.
“Noble sod can’t get a drink, stabbed by idiots, ruins Nosgoth.” The vampire recited in his rich, commanding voice. Raziel nodded Kain’s direction.
“Oh, yes.” Kain said from where he was seated at a long table. The tone with which he said it could be mistaken for sarcasm. A frenzied scrabbling was heard opposite him and Raziel very suddenly popped up above the table top, his bangs fluttering about his temples. You realize Kain’s tone was more exasperated in preparation for Raziel’s enthusiasm.
“The arts? The Razielim were the highest regard in patronage of the arts. My High Library was the crowning jewel of my territory.” The wraith spread his claws across the marble as he leaned forward. The emotion in his voice was more than enough to be infectious for all its joy and the vacuum of sadness waiting just behind it. “Although I am now aware of the ironic foreshadowing of the Emperor’s Wing.”
“Ah, yes. The Emperor’s Wing.” Kain recalled without looking up from his parchment.
“That was the top floor of the library where I tediously collected pre-empircal history and artifacts. Only Kain and I were allowed in access. I thought I was just being thorough but I may very well have cultivated the information leading to my own demise. So thank you for that, Kain.” Raziel spoke very proudly of his collection even whilst mentioning his death. Across from him Kain had merely made some sound in acknowledgement.
“The Empire had a healthy appreciation for the arts that only waned the last couple centuries. Melchiah and I kept each other’s interest in utilitarian arts. He was quite the artist. Indeed the Melchiahim were a very hands on, productive people in general. Zephonim territory always did give rise to the most creative types. Their royal theater troupe… I’ve forgotten the name of it now. It was phenomenal.” His jubilant expression was such a rare occurrence it was almost more painful than anything to be privy to.
“A thousand years is much too long to pick definitive favorites. Latest I was fond of the turn Rahabim art was taking. The heavy tattoos and piercings of sailing humans began to trickle upwards through the coast-minders into pockets of aristocracy and captains… I remember seeing the tattooed hoods and pierced crests of the devolved Rahabim upon my dark return…and absent-mindedly thinking it suited them.” Raziel trailed off in memory.
“You were always a prince of the arts, Raziel.” Kain remarked.
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