'I know...I don't believe in gods...but I have seen angels, and I have lain in the devil's own bed. And I have now watched them spill blood of nemisis and self, and meet holy light with dark of night for the final time...there are none left, of the lesser, and the greater have gone on...' So spake the Elfwench at the end of the world. And in her madness, she took no caution when she fell into the arms of her mate, and thus was conceived the child of darkness and light...Dameia: the Passion of Fire. Part human, part elven, warped by the curse in her father's blood and possessed of the devil in her mother's, there was never a question of whether or not the second generation would embrace the shadows in her own soul...only how much. - I think this was the first picture I sketched in all pencil instead of going over the final lines with ink. It was an experiment after a few years of seething in jealousy over a friend's pencil art. The original version was *much* larger, and included some incidental scribbles of clouds and grass at the top and bottom to give the impression that she was standing in a rainstorm. Even with the clouds, the second person to see it after it was scanned thought the dark liquid running down her was blood - knowing Dameia, either (or both) is just is likely. The resized version was also tweaked in Paintshop to...ah...clean up her naughty bits somewhat. The original, full-sized and uncensored version is on my website. I had hoped that the markings on her wings would come out to suggest the eyes on a peacock's feathers without being too detailed, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded there. (Nor is it important, since that was an addition that was made at the time of the drawing - the first draft of the character herself simply started that her wings were 'dark and veined with scarlet' without mentioning a pattern.) Plain #2 pencil on Xerox paper.