Posts Tagged Kohath

Kohath.

Dec 1

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2009-12-01-kohath

I think I got the hand more or less right, though now I have to worry about his legs D:

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2nd draft [partim] – …and thou.

Nov 12

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“I’m having lunch with someone special,” he said. “And I thought fruit would be a good idea but nothing here is really grabbing me. Juice sounds like a good idea…”

“Much more convenient,” she said. “No messing with seeds, or rinds, or sticky paws.” She laughed to herself. “And no need to worry about carrying the other half of the strawberry you couldn’t finish because someone decided it should be the size of a melon…” She shook her head and reached for a bottle on her left. “For someone special you’ll want something special,” she said, pulling the bottle from the rack and running her paw across the label. “My son makes this from his best grape. For a boy in love, one nummo, and I’ll throw in cups for free.” She pulled two tumblers from the top of the stack behind her; one was blue and the other pink.

Kohath took the colors as a good sign and paid the nummo, thanking the her sincerely. Bottle and cups went into his bag and he was back in the street. A simple lunch being provided for, he set off towards the park where he was to meet his fox.

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2nd draft [partim] – …and thou

Oct 22

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Another brief revision fragment of this following on from here.

The third stall wasn’t selling fruit; it shaded an elderly wolf lady sitting on a halı, surrounded by racks of bottles. She sniffed the air as he approached.

“Come for juice, young wolf?”

He smiled and sat down in front of her.

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2nd draft [partim] – …and thou

Oct 17

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Another brief revised fragment of this story, continuing from last time.  It’s short because I spent most of the writing period trying to work out what the guy was cursing like.  I appear to have lost my sanity because I decided a walrus was appropriate.  How does a walrus swear?  Um.  He says ‘bukkit‘?

In the next stall, a raven was busy shooing children away from pyramids of melons meticulously piled, and in his frustration nearly knocked them over himself. The avian was cursing like a walrus and Kohath decided to pass him by.

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WIP – Kohath

Oct 13

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Okay, so since the last time I worked on this guy I’d been bugged by his right hand, the one with the crossed fingers.  So I was trying to make it right—“save me, flickr!”—and didn’t realize till about halfway through drawing time that his hand was facing the wrong way.  Not, like, anatomically wrong… just pragmatically so; when you cross your fingers you don’t normally turn your hand in that direction.

2009-10-13-kohathI ran out of drawing time before I could get it right, so he’s just got an outline at the moment.  ¬.¬

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2nd draft [partim] — …and thou

Sep 15

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Continuation from last time,  and the full first draft for those who haven’t seen it yet.  I won’t have much posted this week: much of last week’s art and writing time was spent on stuff outside the scope of this blog.

He paid two nummi for the bread and headed back out to the street, putting the loaf in his bag.  The wind brought a luxurious smell of citrus, of apples and grapes, making Kohath’s belly rumble.  Time enough for eating later, right?  No… let’s see if we can find something good. He went down to the square at the end of the street where the fruitsellers were set up.

The first stall he saw belonged to a very small tiger selling very large berries.  He picked up a raspberry the size of an orange and looked it over, somewhat impressed.

“Biggest berries in the province,” the tiger said. “I have a certificate from the general saying so.”  It was framed and hanging behind him; he seemed pretty proud of it.  ”All natural, too.”

Kohath considered the fruit for a moment, then put it down.  ”Maybe next time,” he said, and moved on.  New food can be hit or miss, and today was not a day for taking risks.

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Scrap – Kohath

Sep 10

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I’ve been wanting to finish Kaido no Yume for a long time now.  The main problem with that plan is that I’ve already written the ending, and I’d like to find it before I start filling in the rest.  So this is just a scribble on what happens afterwards.

It was the day after that—that—

I still can’t call it a dream. It left me so… so sore, really. Inside and out. I’d been someone else for so long, and my muscles had to get used to being Kohath again.

It’d only been one night.

I wasn’t sure what to do next. I mean, obviously, back to life, such as it was. But had I learned anything? Was I supposed to have?

I stayed in bed, confused. What do you do when your life has ended but you’re still living?

I missed Iisera.

No, actually—I was grieving for it.

Couldn’t have been just a dream, then—I’m not that messed up, am I?

It’s too darn cold in here.

I wanted to stay in bed, but I couldn’t; hunger, the call of nature, and a vague feeling I was supposed to do something with my day soon forced me out of bed.

The lunar winds were still howling. I resisted the urge to chime in.

I’m a wolf, right.

Sometimes… Sometimes the wolves are silent and the moon is howling. I’d read that somewhere.

I felt like I hadn’t read anything in years.

Anyway, up. Call of nature, attended to. For hunger, a quick sandwich. And I continued to wonder what I was supposed to do with my day.

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WIP – Kohath

Aug 25

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For some reason my last picture of Kohath was drawn well over five years ago, and I figured I’d better draw a new one since the old one was kind of awful, too.

I started on this a bit ago and worked on it for a while this weekend at the Aurora furmeet.

Kohath

I have a sort of idea that there should be another person in the shot (I can see him watching Scott go up the stairs) but I’m not sure it’d be worth the effort.  What do y’all think?

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2nd draft [partim] – …and Thou.

Aug 18

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The first draft was posted in full on my LiveJournal.

On a cool April day—the sun shining with a softness of color that pastelified the world—Kohath was shopping. Just by looking at him you could tell he was touched by love; he was humming “45’s Earthlight,” and his usual trudge was replaced by the unselfconsciousness that only comes from focusing on someone else.

He moved alone, though, down the street of shops, stopping every now and then to look at things in the windows that caught his eye: colorful glass sculptures, a chocolate fountain, a dance lesson—until he caught the warm scent of bread baking and knew what he wanted. He followed his nose to the bakery and approached the counter.

“Good morning, wolf,” said the baker, a short boar in a flour-covered apron. “What can I get for you today?”

“Bread!” he said, grinning. The baker only rolled his eyes at the joke. “Uh, one of those sweet loaves. And half a dozen of… nah, just that.”

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