One. Two. "Three." My soft breath snuffs out the last glimmer of light from the candle. The scream of my prey echoes through the darkness. A small smile tugs at my lips. I almost feel pity for it. Almost.
The gentle spring breeze stroked my cheeks,
Done entirely with palate/painting knife.
Acrylic with palate knife
The light of the golden moon would redeem them. That is what the Elders used to say.
Another drawing of Jayk for my story.
Blood had been his life so so long... and blood was all he needed.