leave your weapons at the door

The Lost Future of Pepperharrow

‘Mori banged his sword down into the snow.’

© El Kane

This is Six. She is pleased with her new light bulb but isn’t sure she wants you to know that, and has made her own sleeve garters like her papa’s in thier work clothes. At some point she’ll pick up the cogs she’s dropped on the floor.

Taking referance from William Adolphe Bouguereau. (The socks were a last minute addition becasue I coulnd’t bare the thought of her having chilly toes).

© El Kane

‘Don’t tell me, just intend to…’

‘Thaniel nodded once and saw him listen to what he could have said while the filaments of the lightbulbs made fireflies of themselves in his eyes.

When he ran out of thoughts, he looked down and brushed the loop of the silk tie where it hung over Mori’s hip while he let other things rise to the edge of speaking.

The lights swithed off and hid them from the dark street. The fading orange in the filaments showed clear in his eyes, then disappeared when Thaniel kissed him.’

     - The Watchmaker Of Filigree Street, by Natasha Pulley.  

I’ve wanted to illustrate this moment since first reading it three years ago. It took me completely by surprise and suddenly the whole thing made sense to me as one of the most exquisite love stories I’ve ever read. It sits with its tenticles wound very stubbornly around my inner workings, still, side by side with her other works. Everybody must read this book.

Image © El Kane