"Don't be afraid. We're going home."

fullbody Corbeau in my usual art style!

the week after lysandre fired the ultimate weapon

Drawing him a bunch o' times to develop a muscle memory; still not done with the corbs practice, but I liked how the official art redraw looks with the way I colored it, so it's Saturday's post now.

Explanation of how to use tracing as a learning tool in art + a lil bit of this process below cut (warning, got kinda long & def not proof read)

Your parents are excited to announce that they’ve found you a husband. You’re less enthusiastic. Marriage? To a man who was no more than a stranger to you?

When you meet him, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. His face remains calm, blank, his voice flat as he chats with your father. You stay quiet.

Cheer up, your father says as you leave the Rust Syndicate office. It’ll be good for the family business. Corbeau’s hardly strapped for cash. You’ll never have to worry about money again.

Your wedding is small. Few guests fill the venue aside from your family and some people from the Rust Syndicate. When you share a dance with him, he quietly tells you that you look pretty in your dress.

When you arrive at his home later… you’re surprised to find that you’ve been given your own bedroom. He lingers at the doorway while you have a look around, and gives you a brief good-night before disappearing down the hallway.

Living with him feels more like having a roommate than a husband. You have the house to yourself for most of the day, and it’s not much different when he’s there. You chat with each other over dinner, or when you’re both on the couch watching the evening news, but he leaves you to yourself most of the time.

Affection from him is rare, but not completely absent. Sometimes he brushes a polite kiss to your cheek or the back of your hand when he comes home. The occasional “dear” or “darling” will slip out when he talks to you.

He brings you with him to events. Parties, battle tournaments—whatever he’s invited to, you’re coming along. It’s easy to miss, but there’s a touch of happiness to his voice when he introduces you as his wife. His arm will find its way around your waist if you stray too far from his side.

Your mother calls one evening, asks you how you’re enjoying the married life. You say it’s fine, you’re getting along well. You glance at Corbeau, but he’s absorbed in a book. You tell your mother that you’re happy, that he’s a very respectful husband. She gushes for a moment before launching into a tangent about your father. It was only meant for her to hear, but across the room, he smiles.

You go shopping, perhaps more than you used to. He doesn’t seem to mind that you spend his money. You wander into luxury boutiques, your fingers grazing over fabrics you would have never dreamed of affording before. You buy a fancy dress, just as a treat for yourself. Back at home, he walks in on you as you’re admiring yourself in the mirror. You ask him what he thinks of it. His eyes trace over you, slow, then he says it suits you. You hear him mutter that he’s lucky to have such a beautiful wife as he leaves the room.

You’re out on a walk with him when a chill starts to creep through the air. He notices you shivering, and silently drops his jacket over your shoulders. It’s warm, and covered in the scent of his cologne. You thank him and happily cuddle into it. This time, when you reach to hold his hand, he doesn’t pull away until you get back home.

You’re making dinner when he arrives back from the office. Instead of leaving you be, as he usually would, he drops his things on the kitchen table and comes over to you. His arms wrap around your middle as he hugs you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. You pause, your hands becoming still over the food you were preparing. He says softly that he missed you. You whisper that you missed him too. He turns your head towards him, and kisses you, gentle. It goes on a little too long, and you finally have to push him away with a laugh so you can finish cooking. He’s happy to help.

Corbeau does everything for you so you can rest, and no it’s not an inconvenience, because he’d do it for you even if you were 110% healthy. If you’re insistent on him not doing everything for you, he’ll still be at your side to ease your strain any way possible. He’ll help you fold your laundry or make dinner, bringing you pain pills to digest with your meal, he’ll even give you a massage if you ask (though he’s not great at it, going at your muscle too lightly at first, and then too rough when you tell him, but his touch alone is soothing enough).

Regardless, he is insistent on you getting rest. If you won’t stay at home, the very least you can do is come relax on the couches at the office. You can lounge and do whatever makes you feel better, and Corbeau is just happy to have you near. Besides, he enjoys getting to walk home with you, and stopping to get takeout from your favorite restaurant on the way, your hands intertwined and swinging lightly at your sides.

He tucks you in at night, and makes sure all your needs are met before climbing into bed next to you.

“You don’t have to do all this.” You tell him.

“Of course I do.” He folds his glasses neatly on the bedside table. “It’s you and I against the world- we can’t win if one of us is down. Besides, I love you, and you would do the same for me.”

You know the truth in his words all too well, and you relent, letting him pepper a few loving kisses across your face before he curls up beside you.

“Goodnight, my angel. Wake me up if you need anything.”

“Okay.” You kiss his forehead.

“I mean it.”

「ほな　みなさん　いい夢を」続き(幻覚)