His breath came in soft hushes against her neck, his frail form enveloping her in a shroud of encompassing mist. He couldn't hold the dangers of the world from her with this decripit body or his own failing sense of humanity. Worse yet, he couldn't keep her safe from himself, the mere vicinity to her angelic presence a maddening wave that threatened to consume him every time he neared it.
And so, he did what he could, he simply held her in his mist, willing fangs to stay themselves and clutching tightly to what humanity she inspired with her gentle sobs.
An illustration for a novel and illustration project I've started with Brenda Lyons. Like dark fantasy, angels, elves, fae, romance, and violence? Check it out here! (it's empty right now, but it will be updated with art, story, and all sorts of fun things!): Fleeting Vision
Prismacolor Color Pencil on dark grey 8.5x11 inch cardstock.