Leopold by Micky coloured by Al

Inked by Micky, and coloured by me – this is Leopold Florel, a vampyre Lord, who stars in his own Gothic webcomic graphic novel trilogy series, which is upcoming that Micky is writing, and I will illustrate! ♡ 

WIP: Carnation, Amy, and Leopold (CotMS)

(From left to right: Carnation, Amy, and Leopold from our Gothic novel, Curse of the Mystic Sword.) 🥀💀🥀

I’ve been rearranging the apartment, since I realised I have a lot of space in my room (technically a large walk-in closet), so I have been taking my boxes of old stuff from the hallway, and putting them into my room.

Naturally, I’ve been going thru some of the boxes as I do so, and was happy to rediscover my art book from 2015-2016 (when we resided at the Victorian mansion), which I thought was lost forever! I was so grateful to find it – tysm, God! 🙇🏻‍♀️🙏🏻😇

I also found a very large sketchbook with this trio inside its pages; what’s so special, as well as rare, about this is, all three of us drew this together – I drew Carnation, Micky @octobernocturne drew Amy, and Rob @timewillcrawl94 drew Leopold! 👩🏻‍🎨👨🏼‍🎨👨🏻‍🎨

They’re in Curse of the Mysic Sword, a Gothic novel we’ve been writing since Autumn, 2006. Carnation is an independent woman, ever at odds with Leopold, who – unbeknownst to her – is a vampyre, as is his adopted daughter, Amy. 🌹🥀🦇🥀🌹

(… we’re gonna need a bigger scanner! 😆)

2016: Raphael versus Mitsurugi | Soul Calibur’s 20th Anniversary

I wrote this description on my old art blog:

Both of these guys were important characters in my SC fanfic series back in 2009; the same one that’s being rewritten for an original Soul Calibur-inspired webcomic series that I’ve been working on over the Summer.

Ironic but typical that Namco would set these two against one another, when they mean so much to me, right? n.n’ … As tough as it is going to be to say this, I have no doubt in my mind that Mitsurugi would be the victor.

From my view, Mitsurugi has the advantage due to being inspired by a real life person who never once lost a duel, as well as that given he is still alive and well by SCV, he hasn’t ever lost a battle, because losing would mean Death — that is the samurai way.

Besides, Raphael wasn’t even able to get the upper hand on the 21-year-old girl, Cassandra, when he stole her fragment of Soul Edge — how could he stand a chance against Mitsurugi?😛

In honour of my two favourites, here is my WIP poster of their battle —

A very special thanks to my twin, @octobernocturne, for coming up with the poses, and being my de facto director in how this battle scene plays out! n_n ♡

Steven x Sha – May 2020

~*Alone together, lying on a blanket, on the rooftop. Holding Sha’s blushing face, Steven brushed his lips against hers, intending to make this a birthday to remember, one they would never forget. She knew what he was saying to her through his kiss, and she ran her fingers through his long black hair, wrapping her legs around his waist, knowing that this time she wouldn’t make him stop.*~
~ Written by Mikau, OctoberNocturne.

So the story behind this is that my art and Micky’s writings are going to be published in PaperDemon’s art calendar for 2020, which I also volunteered to help out with behind-the-scenes and such, so that’s what I’ve been up to over the Summer; writers get to write a caption for each month, so my beloved brother, Micky, wrote one for me.  💜

I wish I had the words to express how surreal and exciting all of this is for me, but today happens to be a tired day for me, so I trust you’ll understand my quiet passion.  💜

Raindrops of a Broken Heart

_{“Raindrops of a Broken Heart”}

_{— Inspired by the song “It’s Just The Rain” by Journey —}

_{Written by Alexandria — Edited by Michael}

_{{Originally written February 14th, 2013 — revised February 8th, 2015}}

_{— Dedicated to Robert —}

_{Characters, World and Story © Tealight Stories}

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Edit (July 25th, 2022) – Character names have changed, such as Robert is now Christian.

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A forceful rush of cold air blew through the heavy fog from where the young man stood carefully counting out the seconds as he listened to the thunder. The rain pierced his flesh as he made his way into the entrance of the church. It was empty, and appeared lonely, shrouded in darkness, save for moments of lightning that lit up the cathedral from the tall windows outside. Flickering shadows danced in a menacing nature about the walls as Christian strode down the aisle. His eyes easily adjusted to the darkness as he observed each windowpane of painted glass. Patron Saints stared back at the young man from paintings on the wall, momentarily disappearing and reappearing again between each flash of lightning, as Christian made his way to an open window. Ebony bars decorated the old glass, and the wind was barely able to budge the heavy, old window frames.

Staring out into the night, out into the foggy town of Forest below, Christian could barely make out the mountain path to where his family farm was. He knew everyone must be asleep back home, if not up late tending to nocturnal pastimes, as he was aware was accustomed in his eccentric family. Perhaps Viktor was crafting dolls; it did seem to be a nocturnal pastime his brother enjoyed. Maybe Mum was reading a bedtime story to Leif, while Barley took one final round out about the farm. The elven brothers Bartholomew and Leif were an appreciated help to his family; the two elves were accepted as part of the family.

Christian knew Sha was sleeping. He had seen his sister some time before he left, to head out by himself, through Forest to the church. He had made sure to rest her fears, and assured her that everything was going to be all right. Being the Seasonal Warriors, there was a certain stress which strained itself over him and his siblings — and tonight had been one of the nights where Sha had lost herself in thought, still musing over their recent case with vicious dark elves. He had reassured her that they had most certainly driven the dark elves out of Forest as it were, and the young man stayed by his sister’s side until she drifted off. Gentle raindrops fell upon the window as he had soothed his sister to sleep, but as he made his way through the quiet town of Forest, the rain soon became heavier and he noticed a slow fog crept down from the wooded mountains to surround the village, almost ominously.  

A dark look fell over Christian’s face as he let himself recall how brutish those dark elves had been, and how close they were to overpowering him and his siblings. Sha was near defenseless against the dark elves; they had been able to toss aside each and every Earth attack the Spring Warrior attempted to throw at them.

Christian had then quickly stepped in, and used his ice charm to freeze their legs to the ground, thankful to be the Winter Warrior in that moment, as he growled at the dark elves how it wasn’t nice to attack a lady on her own. He then tended to his sister, assured his ice powers would hold the dark elves in place before he really gave them a taste of their own medicine!

But it was Viktor who had finished them off.

Last to the scene — but just in time — the Autumn Warrior had gracefully glided in from behind the dark elves, and caught them off-guard. Christian could still hear their shrill screams as they fell from Viktor’s surprise attack upon them — his element being the strongest against them, evidently. It didn’t hurt that Viktor also happened to be the Death Keeper, and could send any living being of his choosing away to Deathwood if he chose to do so. But that was one power he did not abuse, and Christian respected that.

The power of God could very well be in his brother’s hands, yet Viktor was careful in how he used it, and Christian admired that in his brother. The dark elves would have been better off in Deathwood, but with a brief, although firm, warning, Viktor had sent them off on their way. Mercy was a good quality to have between the three of them, and Christian only hoped the dark elves would stay out of Forest as they said they would.

“What are you trying to tell me?” Christian whispered to himself, staring up into the dark skies, wondering if God was watching him, even though the Wood Islands seemed to have been cursed long ago, and had shunned both Heaven and Hell. There was only Deathwood, a purgatory where the souls of the Wood Islands lingered for eternity — with no hope of reaching Heaven.

‘What a miserable fate’, Christian thought to himself, and wondered if he would ever see Deathwood. He knew his brother had seen it many times, being the Keeper of Souls himself. He wondered if that was an equally miserable burden, but there was nobody else he would trust more with his soul than Viktor. He could always count on Viktor and Sha to be there for him, and he had strong faith in his fellow Seasonal Warriors.

Christian knew God had blessed them on this cursed archipelago, and he knew they were chosen for a reason, for the good of human and elven kind alike.

“Who are you talking to?” A low voice questioned from the shadows.

Christian turned and quickly made out the silhouette of a slender female standing near the altar. A flash of ruby hair caught his attention as the lightning flickered and thunder echoed throughout the church. The Summer Warrior — Judy Aveil — had sent the young man a letter several days before, and she had requested his presence at the Forest church. She didn’t seem to care to correspond with the other two Seasonal Warriors, having chosen to put what little faith she had in the Winter Warrior. The irony being their elements clashed time and time again, whether in their seasonal nature or in personal nature.

“Judy.”

Christian stepped towards her, not caring that the bitter cold rain fell from the open window upon his soaked back. Emerald eyes met his gaze, as he looked down at the tribal woman, and a slight smile played on her lips which were painted to match her eyes. Judy turned away from him, causing the young man to wonder if he had only imagined her faint smile a moment before. ‘No, this is no time to be insecure’, the young man fiercely reminded himself, he couldn’t let his guard down, not now. Even if he couldn’t help being drawn to her.

Being the Summer Warrior, a certain degree of heat radiated from the young woman’s body in comparison to other beings. Christian appreciated the warmth in spite of having been perfectly fine with the chill of the rainy night . . . Maybe he just appreciated Judy.

“Glad you could make it,” Judy’s desert accent rose through her words as emerald eyes shone briefly with another passing of lightning.

Christian raised an eyebrow, narrowing his dark eyes as he studied the outline of her profile in the dark. Judy seemed to be more comfortable when they didn’t have to look at one another, and he knew she had a thing or two to be guilty about. He sensed she might be a little less conscious of the quality of mercy he shared with his brother and sister. The Summer Warrior came from a very different background from the other three — her line having abandoned the other Seasons centuries ago.

It wasn’t until recently that the Spring, Autumn and Winter Warriors had been reunited with a Summer Warrior for the first time ever since the Great War, and Christian felt there had to be something up Fate’s sleeve for leading him to discover Judy. What little he knew of her background was that she had been raised in an all female tribe and originated from the desert, where she was brought up to depend only upon herself.

Christian could respect that, even as he didn’t mind stepping in when he could to help her, and hoped Judy would be there for him when he needed it too. He knew this hope was something of a gamble, however.

“What’s the occasion?” Christian asked, smirking as Judy faced her body towards his, and their eyes met as a few moments of moonlight slowly made it’s way through the windows. The clouds must have parted. He took note that the thunder had died down as the rain slowed to a low drizzle.

Judy crossed her arms, lifting one hand to her chin and Christian admired her colourfully painted nails. As elusive as they were, tribal women sure had good taste in their make-up and fashion. She seemed to be thinking about something; perhaps almost hesitantly, before ruby hair brushed over his chest as she turned on her heel and walked off.

Christian’s gaze trailed after her slender figure, and he admired her elegant feline-like grace.

“You and I are the embodiment of Heaven and Hell,” Judy’s voice echoed throughout the church softly.

Christian stepped back wondering where this came from. It wasn’t like Judy would have the same beliefs as he did, and as far as he knew, the tribal women of the desert had no concept of Heaven or Hell.

He remained silent, waiting for the young woman to continue, and steadied his breathing as her accent rose from the silence again, “Winter and Summer — ice and fire.”

“What’s with the philosophical speech?” returned the young man, throwing out his arms in a rough toss of the shoulders, as he made his way to the altar and looked down at the tribal woman.

The Winter Warrior and the Summer Warrior held one another’s gaze for what seemed to be forever, before Christian felt his heart jump as soft lips brushed up against his. Wherever this came from, who was to complain?

Christian’s hands made their way to Judy’s waist, resting themselves on her hips as the young woman took hold of his collar. A few more moments passed between their passionate exchange, before Judy pulled back.

“Can’t you feel it?” Judy stared intently up at the young man, her grip tightened on his collar. Christian raised an eyebrow, knowing he felt something, all right. But he saved the smart remarks to let her speak, and listened with the utmost attention and respect placed upon the tribal woman, as she continued softly, “I burn, you melt. I’m a being of fire, your heart is made of ice. We don’t belong, and yet . . .”

“And yet what?” Christian questioned, his eyes softening as Judy’s emotions wavered briefly upon her delicate face. The green lipstick she wore smudged towards the left from where his mouth had brushed moments before. There came no response, until his collar was loosened from her hold as she slowly stepped away from him.

“It’s not love, it’s just the rain,” Judy whispered, looking down and away from his intense gaze.

Was that it? Christian frowned, and stepped forward to hold her in his embrace. He prayed to himself she wouldn’t just disappear into the night until he held her again, even for a moment. There was no protest, as Judy looked up at him with a gentle expression— she was relaxed and limp, much to his surprise.

“Christian, what a handsome devil you are.”

“Heh, I thought I was an Angel in this equation?” Christian smirked, and was met with a sweet smile as Judy gazed comfortably into the dark eyes of her lover.

The tribal woman relaxed into his arms, while the young man placed a gentle kiss upon her emerald lips and found himself grinning into their kiss as she purred his name. Restless hands wandered over one another, until he finally settled his hands upon her back and stroked his fingers through her long, thick hair.

Judy wrapped her hands together tightly around his strong neck, and Christian hoped the night could last forever. But with one final gaze into one another’s eyes, he found himself breathlessly watching her walk away from him; making her way gracefully out the opened window. After a moment, he caught his breath, as a smirk slowly built itself over his gentle features.

“Oh Judy,” Christian shook his head, walking over to the window and observing the grounds below in the clear moonlight, “How your kiss betrays me.”

 

2008: Don’t Breathe

Illustration of Isaac dragging the Mystic Sword through the forest, from Curse of the Mystic Sword, formerly known as Mystic Travels. Micky drew the line-art, and I coloured it. 😺

Edit – August 21st, 2021 – I found this description from my old art blog:

After seeing the trailer for Don’t Breathe so many times, which is a horror film about three thieves breaking into an old blind man’s home with the old blind man fighting back – fiercely – we couldn’t help but be reminded of Isaac from our old graphic novel, Mystic Travels, which was also known as ‘Curse of the Mystic Sword’. Isaac was a blind, deaf, and mute old man, inspired from Voldo in the Soul Calibur games, whom is the deadly, spidery guardian of the Money Pit, and defends it against thieves {including my sensei, Yoshi-san ~ aka Puck-sensei in my Soul series}.

Our stories could be really dark, so our Mother actually used to call them, “your Gothic novels” back then, with us eventually switching between referring to them as “Graphic novels” and “Gothic novels” interchangeably. Almost as dark as Don’t Breathe, at times, too.

@octobernocturne did the sketch of Isaac {seen below} carrying the Devil’s Sword behind him in early 2007, whereas I eventually coloured it spontaneously sometime in 2008 {seen above}, during the same time period I was colouring my sketches of Amy Belle Florel, and her adoptive mother, Dr. Carnation Lily – who clashed often with Amy’s foster father, Lord Leopold Florel, not only because they were both doctors; her being a feminist, and him being a misogynist, but because they had different ideas of how to raise Amy.

Even so, the two weren’t ever truly romantically involved, nor were they ever Amy’s collective parents either – how Carnation came to adopt Amy as a single mother was due to believing that the young girl was an orphan and that her father, Leopold, was dead {when, in fact, he can’t die – he’s a vampyre, although the doctor was never to learn this}, but I digress.

By the time they became a family, Carnation had already met and taken in Isaac, insisting he come with her to the Florel estate, much to the Dark Lord’s disgust, for the young doctor had a compassionate heart, and strong will; perhaps being the only person to truly stand up to Leopold. Isaac was another source of conflict between the two opposites.

I felt inspired to post this due to having just watched ‘Don’t Breathe’ – my adrenaline is still making me light-headed, and sick from the fear that the film brought me. I see now why it is being referred to as the most original horror film in decades. Terrifying. ;_;

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@octobernocturne‘s original sketch:

Karasu x me – o15

Another lovely sketch of me and my SO from last Summer; Micky OctoberNocturne helped me shade in Karasu’s hair for this one, before I coloured it. 😺 💜