Calvary

https://linktr.ee/CalvarySoteria

Oh, so lonely. How awful and how holy a thing it is to be so grand, to be the cathedral that houses the congregation and is itself never housed, to be the light by which all others see and to stand always in the particular and permanent darkness of one's own shadow. The deepest ocean, fathomless and cold and incapable of being crossed by anything less than an act of God, She has always known, in the way that the divine always knows the things that would undo them, quietly and completely and without the relief of being wrong. She swallows the world for you, takes the whole blessed and broken weight of it down into herself as though it were communion, as though it were hers to take, as though the taking of it were not the last and most devastating and most loving thing she would ever do, and she does not flinch, and she does not spill a drop, and nobody thinks to say amen.

Drowning Princess

¡Próximamente habrá una nueva historia! Lamentablemente, estará escrita en inglés.

I tried quite hard for a more realistic style. What do you think? Painting digitally is hard.

I did this fabric thing with Zelda, it was fun!

I got a really nice response from many people, so I wanted to do the second part of the duo. Thank you all for the support.

Fallen from grace, a kingdom stands and a gallant hero liberates the enchanting princess from her spell of eternal sleep. Enamored of her beauty and grace, he seeks her hand as his prize, only to then be denied. Undeterred, he accepts the queen’s decree: seven winters of arduous trials to prove his worth. He sets forth, believing the beauty of his reward and her radiant hand are waiting for him at the journey’s end. The path ahead remains shrouded in blood and ashes. Fate decreed a season of trial, a fiery crucible to sear his spirit and test the depths of his devotion. The final trial shall test all his mettle, lest his divine gift be sundered from him forever.

Estoy muy nerviosa.

Fear's dark specter had no hold on him, for his gaze was fixed upon her celestial beauty, shining bright as a guiding star. The benevolent goddess, radiant with compassion, gazed down upon her faithful servant, her countenance tinged with sorrow's gentle hue. Yet, he, unshaken by the whispers of doom, stood steadfast, his heart afire with devotion. For he knew the appointed hour drew nigh, the second coming, when mortal realms would tremble and the fabric of existence unravel. The world, in all its fleeting glory, teetered on the precipice of eternity

She, his liege, held sway over his heart, rendering him delightfully helpless. Her presence bewildered and beguiled, leaving him lost in the labyrinth of his own desires. Though he would surrender all for her, his every waking thought devoted to her love, it was not enough. For in the depths of his soul, a whispered truth awaited acknowledgment: his heart's deepest longing remained unknown, even to himself. Yet, in the crucible of crisis, when those shining lights faltered, what remained? What did his heart beat for? In the silence, a whispered confession emerged: he loved her. Not merely as a noble quest, nor a chivalrous deed, but as an essential, elemental truth.

In Gethsemane's shadowy garden, where olive trees witness sorrow's might, he stands, besieged by anguish, his heart torn apart by night. The weight of the world's redemption presses upon his weary frame, as every step, every breath, echoes with the cross's looming claim. But then, a radiant presence descends, a heavenly comfort true, His guardian angel, sent from above, to see him through. With gentle touch, and loving gaze, the angel's peace imparts, soothing his troubled soul, calming the tempests in his heart.

She dwelleth without him, and he without her. Thus, he beareth the weight of guilt, and his soul is consumed by self-loathing. For she was a shining star, a radiant gem beyond his worth, encompassing all that is heavenly and earthly. The very firmament above, once a brilliant blue, now mocketh him with the hue of his own eyes, a constant reminder of his unworthiness. And she, that luminous being, once full of wisdom, kindness, and sweetness, is now but a silent, lifeless creature, suspended in the vast expanse above. Alas, she is lost to him, a fleeting dream, a moment's beauty, forever vanished.

In the wake of her deliverance, Princess Zelda has bore witness to Link transformed - her knight enthralled by a singular devotion, his credence subsumed by an unyielding reverence. Bright heroism has given way to an unnerving intensity in his gaze, as if the very divine has taken mortal form before him. Zelda is drawn to her vessel of unshakeable conviction, even as she trembles before the unspoken demands of his worship - a devotion that elevates her to an altar, and him to the role of fervent supplicant.

It’s an ineffable blossoming of love he feels for her. Though it’s a tragedy all the same, for his Goddess drowns in excruciating sorrow, her beauty inextricably entwined with the tenebrous misfortune that besets her. Desperate to ease the burden of God, he stands vigil to assuage her woe by swallowing it. The indistinction between fealty, duty, and obsession is fickle, for amidst it all despair and devotion nurse his communion.

In the recesses of his soul, a tumultuous struggle ensued, for he was cognizant of the impropriety and abomination of his desires. The venerable warrior, erstwhile paragon of virtue, found himself ensnared by an unholy ardor. His heart, an altar of devotion, now burned with profane passion, as he surrendered to the forbidden fruit of Zelda's lips. The princess, a vessel of purity, betrothed and soon to be wed, yet her mouth was upon his, a sacrilegious union that defied the sacred vows. And he, a humble supplicant, whispered fervent prayers into her ear, entreating the goddess to absolve his transgression, to indulge his frailty, and forgive his lapse. Oh, he knew he was a sinner.