martes, 18 de septiembre de 2012

Well...... again, i´m not a great blogger, i wish i had more time, perhaps i can get more time if i wake up earlier and finish my basic things pronto.

The Fibromyalgia is doing ok, she is taking some vacations for now, but she does call me once in a awhile during the day to remind me that she will come back one of these days, she misses me.

So, i recovered from a horrible Sinus infection, this means i had to stay in bed for quite some time, for about two weeks, i´m feeling better and the funny thing is, i took a well long deserved rest and i feel somewhat better in general. I feel awake, happy and i´m finding more time to draw, i miss drawing a lot. Eric gave me A Game of Thrones, i´ve been reading it sloooooowly but i am absolutely absorbing every word and of course i started sketching my own idea of things and characters, the first sketch, turned in a nice drawing in a couple of days, and here it is, sorry if i spoil anything so if you do not want to see it or read part of the Prologue, then go go shoooooo shoooo!!

Royce’s body lay facedown in the snow, one arm outflung. The thick sable cloak had been slashed in a dozen places. Lying dead like that, you saw how young he was. A boy.

He found what was left of the sword a few feet away, the end splintered and twisted like a tree struck by lightning. Will knelt, looked around warily, and snatched it up. The broken sword would be his proof. Gared would know what to make of it, and if not him, then surely that old bear Mormont or Maester Aemon. Would Gared still be waiting with the horses? He had to hurry.

Will rose. Ser Waymar Royce stood over him.

His fine clothes were a tatter, his face a ruin. A shard from his sword transfixed the blind white pupil of his left eye.

The right eye was open. The pupil burned blue. It saw.

The broken sword fell from nerveless fingers. Will closed his eyes to pray. Long, elegant hands brushed his cheek, then tightened around his throat. They were gloved in the finest moleskin and sticky with blood, yet the touch was icy cold.

A Game of Thrones Prologue.

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