‘The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper’ W. B. Yeats • Today I pulled out all my old sketchbooks and bound papers, and I’ve decided that it would be really satisfying to compile a booklet of sketches and studies from the past few years to share with you. Look for it in the new year! ☕️
Story Below. Read the caption (It’s important to understand the story)
Prompt: “A witch places a curse upon you that brings you back to the moment she cursed you every time you die. Unfortunately for you, you are participating in a large scale battle that you haven't trained for the very same day.” by /u/JarouMichael (Reddit)
I will cheat these days to keep posting, as finals are taking a lot of my time away. I used to write a lot of prompts sometime ago, so in these chaotic days, I will select a fitting art and paste my favorite prompt responses of mine.
Art by: @anatofinnstark (www.artstation.com/anto-finnstark) You already know Anato is one of my favorite artists. Go check her work out.
I have fought the same battle for eternities, and infinite times I have perished only to be reborn, time and time again, before her night-like eyes, and blood-curdling laughter.
The first hundred times I trembled when I heard her, when the memories of a hundred errant sword beheading me formed in my mind. But her curse eventually hardened my emotions, took me to the verge of madness, where my body moved of its own volition, and the sword didn't feel strange in my grasp anymore.
I became an adroit murderer, a gifted swordsman, a genius tactician, a fearless soldier. The battlefield became a monotonous routine. The war horn would bellow, the armies would surge forth, the tall enemy astride the white horse would charge at me, I would sidestep, shove him to the ground where he would get trampled to death. Then my little brother, Lur, would get murdered before my eyes, and the hatred would take over me, muting my wits, sentencing me to a stupid emotion-driven death.
But as I said, I knew the turnings of the battle. I knew every single movement. Every step taken. And so, when I flirted with madness, and my emotions ceased being an obstacle, I learned all the correct motions, and in doing so, I defied fate, and wound up decapitating it. For on the horizon the enemy general retreated, and from atop a heap of lifeless, bleeding men I gazed, impassive, at them.
Continues in the comments