#ringdea

An old gift for my buddy @woodland-knight that I finally finished drawing.

Here is some Ringdea for your soul friend!

I still need to work on making it smoother and stuff but hey at least one part of the rinabel pictures look okay! 

    Edea didn’t notice how lateit had been.

    She had sworn that it was merely in the early afternoon whenshe had sat down on the ground of their camp, legs folded against her chest, bookin the hold of her nimble fingers. Each flip of the pages brought nothing butfresh openings to her concealed wounds – ones that only she knew about. Every word, illustration – even the creases withinthe pages hold their own special memory, and it took all of her might to placethe journal down, and breathe. Breathe heavily, eyes closed, trying to resist.

    Her hands twitched – they felt empty, the need to hold something, something specific,haunted her thoughts as she tried vainly to clear her mind.

    When her eyes opened, nothing but darkness filled hervision, only the faint glistening of moonlight, and the embers crackling withinthe fading campfire providing light. Edea frowned – this was not enough of alight source to read. This feeling irked her – she was Edea Lee, daughterof the grand marshal! Nothing irked her like this agonizing sensation that overtook her daily. And she hated it.

    Her frown shifted into a shivering glare towards the book,as she suddenly grabbed it from its position on the dirt ground, and forcedherself to stand on her two feet. She began to storm over to the fire – each stepfelt heavier the closer she got to the flames before her. Fingers twitching,she rose up text over her head, breathing out, arm held aloft in mid-air, asshe mentally argued with herself. Throwit.

    She took a swing, yet the book never left her hand.

    Memories were stubborn. Shewas stubborn.

    Lowering her hand, her eyes widened in surprise, as if thiswas the first time she had ever seen fire. Taking a few steps back, shefelt the fabric of the tent behind her, halting her. And without a secondthought, she slid down to the dirt once more, holding the diary against herchest, shaking her head. She felt utterly numb, knowing full well she was doingnothing but opening wounds that would never heal.

    Again, the sound of pages flipping over and over filled the silent atmosphere, and it took another peak of her eyes upward to note that the sun was rising, the beginnings of a new day exposing.