#auryn

sigil version

versions for square or circle use

Long before getting paired up with her in the Winter Omens Big Bang as artist for her “Keep Calm and Carry On”, I’ve admired @dragonfire42 ’s exceptional stories. They are different, in the best of ways: the story ideas appear to blossom from a brain well practised in Thinking Out Of The Box (one of my favourite kinds of Thinking). They are incredibly well researched, and deep, and fill me with awe and wonder.

When I made the cover art for our collab, I asked if she had a sigil that I could add, and she hadn’t one. Ever since then, this idea has been growing on a back burner of my mind, and has now finally come to fruition.

I designed this thinking of her fandom name - obviously - but also of the way loops play a role in her stories. Loops in logic and philosophy offer new viewpoints, they give sense for both the small and the big picture, for the individual and the social context in one fell swoop. The dragon who is not only an ouroboros (an important theme in The NeverEndingStroy’s Auryn, though with two serpents there), but actually creates himself, is for me a metaphor of human creativity, self-determination, and ultimately, joy of life.

The background colour in the middle was chosen with Falkor/Fuchur/Luckdragon in mind, of the NeverEndingStory.

The background colours outside the dragon are her favourite colours after octarine, which I somehow couldn’t find on my palette 😏

The above mentioned story is still posting regularly, and it contains bits and pieces of my art but the ‘big picture’ will be revealed in one of the future chapters. I very much recommend the story!

If you prefer you can also just look at the art for it in chapters 8-13 of my art collection on AO3.

Or read dragonfire42’s Good Omens x NeverEnding Story crossover, The NeverEnding Archive!

A huge Thank You to @thinkinginscripts whom I regularly pester with my art WIPs and who always has a useful and/or encouraging comment. Betaing art is a thing!

INKTOBER 2021: "Auryn!"

Always.

It is not enough to coast the high of enough. It has to be more. There has to be the tenuous sigh of relief as your body scrambles to survive within the frame you've made for it. Just one more. Another.

The weights fall to the floor with a clatter and your mouth splits into a wide grin of approval as everything— your vision, your limbs, your spirit— trembles, quakes: the good kind of exhaustion. The ceiling is the loveliest view you've ever seen— you did it. The something you can do. Colors dull in comparison to it. As you lay on the mat, tracing worms of fracturing color that twitch with your heightened breath, a face steps in, swirling your vision into whirls of lights and traces of sweat. A smirk, a raised eyebrow— distant, not staring, but aware. He hefts his own weight. Flicks his focus to your red, flushed face. Meets your eyes for a fraction of a second before curling the iron once more.

"A sight for sore eyes."

You, at a lack for words, trace an eye over his form. He rolls his lips. You flick a brow.