#tragedyplay

Hey everyone, this was an image i did for an annual illustration competition over at @foliosociety, an amazing design and publishing studio in London which does incredible special editions of notable books with top illustrators. Unfortunately my image didn't place within the top 20, but if you take a look at the longlist youll see the competition was fierce this year! I'll try again next year.

We were asked to illustrate a scene from the short story, "The Flyers of Gy" by Ursula K. Le Guin about a humanoid society that sometimes develop wings and risk their lives to fly.

The image I chose to create was from a scene in the story explaining one of the tragic plays that came out of that culture. I figured this would be a chance to do some high drama and gothic romance atmosphere. I worked really hard on it, and ill be throwing up some process videos this week.

her fingers relax around the clipboard, going from white-knuckle to just too-tight as cairo speaks. and i'm doing this all alone - - - but cairo's right. she's right. riley isn't alone. cairo is here, too, in the too-quiet basement of her house on a friday night as riley tries to pull together a way to pull the back ... well ... together. farrah's a fucking wreck with a concussion and chess was high at a competition and the youtube video has like over a million views the last time riley looked, which was about two hours ago, so it's absolutely higher by now.

riley had thought that having a former almost-olympian on the team would have been a good thing. apparently chess is more trouble than she was worth. riley sets the clipboard down and bites at her thumbnail as she stares at it. "i know. i know that, cai, but - - - oh my god, this is such a disaster. have you read the comments on the video? who even took th-that ... that?"

@tragedyplay , cont. from here

unfinished business, she says. a brow raises at that, and he has to stifle laughter that wishes to escape him, a fist lifting to his mouth and clearing his throat as his hand drops to his side once more. they wish they had a witty comeback at the ready, an awkward pause lingering in the air-- which suntar might even be able to see the cogs slowly but sure turning in her brother's head, but alas. there's only so much that can be said and done to delay the inevitable.

' you know you can leave whenever you want - i told you that, right? ' / @tragedyplay ( from hexxat! )

Can she sense his anxiety? The way he drums his fingers on the table without pause, his focus centred elsewhere, distanced, but Hexxat's words still find their mark. He doesn't feel like a hostage. No, he wants to be here; needs to be. It is the closest he — they — have ever come to finding a solution that would once again allow him to walk in sunlight. His time in daylight ended too soon, and still he grieves for it.

Astarion forces his hand to still; fingers curling into his palm as he forces a weary smile. ❝ I want to stay. ❞ The feeling is most bizarre — to behold another vampire that isn't a threat to him or to a master who feared being overthrown. Hexxat has been more than hospitable; her willingness to allow them into her home, despite knowing nothing about them other than the obvious… He is another vampire wondering just how she acquired her magic cloak.