This is the monarch of Asoan, and it is half a sketch because he’s looking up at Claire and I’m not happy with her half of the picture yet. He’s in the library, though. Ah, layers.
(Which mean I can totally temporarily erase half the picture and work on it later. Ha ha!)
And again, busy, so here’s a bit of Diana:
The False Past
“I was–I was pregnant?” Diana asked.
“How much do you remember?” Stuart asked.
“Did we–” Diana asked, and then she wasn’t brave enough to finish the question.
“No, it was like, the biggest cut-scene of all time. You were just pregnant, and snappy, and it went on for months. How long have you been here?” Stuart asked.
“You tell me your timeline first. What happened after you got taken away?” Diana asked, sitting on top of the table.
“Don’t sit there, Diana, there are chairs,” Stuart said, scowling.
“Talk,” Diana said.
“Not unless you’re sitting in a chair like a civilized person,” Stuart said. Diana didn’t move. Stuart left the room.
“Stu, come on!” Diana said, laughing a little and following him. He turned around and glared at her.
“This is not a joke to me, Diana,” Stuart snarled, mangling her name as if it had been a very shiny and effective cuss word. Diana kept her eyebrows from climbing, but it was an effort.
“I didn’t say it was a joke. The world is not going to end because I sit on a kitchen table. The world already ended, in fact, as far as I can tell. What happened on your end?” Diana asked.
Stuart stared at her for a long time and she thought it looked like he was trying to stop his left eye from twitching.
“We were married. It was horrible. Now I’m here,” Stuart said, and he turned around and walked away.
“Do you remember our wedding? Did you just plop suddenly into being married to me? What happened?” Diana asked. Stuart appeared to get angrier with every word she spoke, and Diana half suspected that he was going to explode and start punching walls, or her.
“Nothing happened. It was all a head game. I’m going to bed,” Stuart said, and he paused on the stairs to glare down at her. “Don’t follow me,” he added, trying really hard to look threatening.
Diana followed him anyway.
You’re reading Victor Poole, and in my current novel, someone who has been wanting to for a long time is about to ride on a hover bike. (Yay!)