[OrchestraHc]

Alright let's try and blow through some of these first.

Boris: A good fight scene and an interesting look into his brain

Billie: I had actually been interested in. This character when she first showed up. To see how she came about is a treat. That and I really like Gus and Jake, so this is almost a backstory for them too.

Tito: He's been through a whole lot. I doubt he'll ever go back to the child wonder stage, but I hope he gains little confidence and trust in the world back.

Salixtra: A villainess in love. And with someone who's already kind of evil, so there's none of that seduce her good nonsense. I like how the try to make a real relationship when something could easily be forced.

Alan miller: a zombie apocalypse survivor, going through a "become what I hate" phase.

Harnel: Harnel is a cool dude. I would like to read more.

Dalton: y'know that character from zombie apocalypse movies that goes Coo-coo. That's this done really really well.

Missy: Some relation here, because I've personally gone through a bit of faith questioning myself. Following with interest.

Vriveka: Nasty little fae. Hilarious nasty little Fae

Hutznim: Looking forward to some more of this guy.

More later, but for now art two of Alfred/Agneau

Faerie had a Little Lamb

Spoiler

"Réveillez-vous, mon petit Agneau," the faerie singsonged to her baby. "It would be such a shame to waste such a special day away sleeping."*
The baby stirred in his bed. He gave a perfectly satisfied yawn as he sat up. "Special day?" the baby, physically a ten year old, asked, attempting to smooth out his long blond hair. "Why is today special, Mère?"
"My golden child, have you forgotten? Today is your third birthday, dear. It was three years ago today that I first laid eyes upon you."
"Really?! What will we be doing today, Mère?" the boy asked, excited for the day ahead.
"That would be a surprise, mon petit Agneau," she said as she wrapped her thin arms around the boy. The fair-mother gave him a loving kiss on the forehead before continuing, "but first let's make you presentable, love." The boy rose from his bed to the other side of the forest hut where his stool waited for him. Sitting down, he pulled all of the hair behind his shoulders so his fair mum could reach it. Sitting in a chair behind him, she pulled a brush from nowhere in particular and began to brush his hair.
This was their ritual. Every morning she would brush his hair, slowly and tenderly. With each brush stroke the hair would polish and sheen. After a time, normally a little more than a week or so, it would reach a state of perfection, where it flowed as smooth as water and shown like sunlight, and using crystal scissors she would cut it off. Then she, with a touch of her finger, would age him months forward to begin the process over again.
His hair was reaching that peak of sheen, and she would have to cut it soon.
"There! All done," she says standing up. Agneau followed her example.
"How do I look, Mère?" he asks.
"Absolutely wonderful, mon petit Agneau. Now come along. Your aunt will be so dissapointed if we are late."
The boytook his fair-mother's hand and left the hut with her.
"I love you, Mère." he says as they set out to the wood.
"Your Mère loves you too, my little lamb."

Edit: Now with more Sevet

What Fire Tastes Like

Spoiler

I had been working for my master for a few years now. I learned rather quickly on that the numbering was entirely pointless if he has no real way to tell us apart. When gathered together, he would only point and if he reffered to us as anything but You, he would call us by whatever we were carrying at the time.*

"You with the mop, front and center!"

"The one with the box, follow me!"

We, us skeletons that is, made a great deal of use out of the number system. It took us a little bit, but we eventually worked out what each other looked like. We used he little scratches, dips, and grooves in each others skulls, and our general heights to tell one another apart.

We generally stuck to the others within our niches. Myself, seventeen, through twenty, who to his annoyance we dubbed team leader, were the sanitation team. It was expected of us to clean the entire fortress every day. His plan was that since there were only four of us we would be working ceaselessly, and thus the fortress would always be clean. Since we were tireless, this wasn't a terrible plan, but he neglected to realize that in making us intelligent he also gave us the capacity for boredom and laziness.

Trying to get out of work, we learned the exact minimum of what we needed to do. Seemed he only used a few specific rooms and hallways at all. So long as we eavesdropped for the rare occaision he would use another room, we could just clean in front of him once in a while and be done with it.

During a cleaning, I passed a mop over the floor to one of the master's secondary labs. He was doing some, I dunno, alchemy? There were beakers, if that helps at all. Anyway, I'm passing a mop when things start to get funny over at his worktable. Oddly colored smoke flew from the table, my master waving his hand and coughing gruesomely. A fire had set on the table and my master's sleeve had caught flame. Thinking quickly, I grabbed my mop bucket a dumped the water on him soaking half of his robes but putting out the flame.

I tried to pull him back from the table, but with a throat that sound like it was full of gravel he screamed, "Don't touch me, scum!" Grabbing a busted beaker from the table he swung at my head. It hit, and although I couldn't feel it, I could hear a faint sizzling on my forehead. My master spat blood onto the floor and told me to clean up as he left.*

I wiped my face with my robes and a bit of the sizzle reacted with it. I was going to get some water to put out the fires, but they died down on their own in a few seconds. The warmth quickly dieing.

...

Time out! Warmth? I could swear I felt it, for just a second, and something else too. My mind registered it as... Spice? That fire was spicy for some reason, I'm sure of it. I ran out into the hallway were I knew a vein of magma flowed in a wall. The veins were held in place by magic, and they only burned what went in, matter of fact it's pretty fun to chuck stuff into, but I didn't know if they let off any heat. This would be novel to say the least. I stuck my hand out and I could feel it. The heat was there, but it felt less powerful than the fire, and there was no spice. This "tasted" thick, sticky, syrupy was the word my mind threw at me. I decide to test it further, rolling up my sleeve, I stick my hand in and Wow! That was amazing! The heat was way more intense!

Pulling out my hand, a small problem made itself incredibly evident. The magma on my hand quickly cooled to rock."Well damn." I said, carefully beating my hand against a stone wall as I ran. The others just had to get a load of this.