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Description
This has been in my sketchbook for a WHILE. Since, like, August. I finally got the motivation to finish it after looking through my Amy Brown artbook. I really like the way it turned out, actually, even if I got the coloring on Anne's boots wrong. This is possibly my second attempt at atmospheric perspective. I like the way it turned out. Backgrounds are very hard for me, which is part of the reason I put this off for so long.

Anyway, this is a younger Mad Anne Flint. She's about sixteen in this picture. She already has some of the pieces that will make up her later outfit, but lacks the giant harpoon gun. Obviously, she can take care of herself.

Story running through my head when I drew this:

She turned to him, her eyes blank and dead, full of madness. His companion lay at her feet, dead or unconscious, the man did not know. What he did know was that he'd made a grave mistake when he'd assumed this girl would be an easy target. Gods! Her blades had flashed almost faster than he could see. Now they were stained red with his friend's blood. He was unsure whether to fight or to run. She'd catch him, those eyes promised. When she caught him, he'd regret trying to run.

"Look," he said, "This is a misunderstanding. I'm sorry. Can we forget it?" He could barely control the pleading in his voice.

"But you promised me a good time," she said. Her voice was dead and terrifying. "You promised me a good time, and I've just started having fun."

Bugger.

Description
This has been in my sketchbook for a WHILE. Since, like, August. I finally got the motivation to finish it after looking through my Amy Brown artbook. I really like the way it turned out, actually, even if I got the coloring on Anne's boots wrong. This is possibly my second attempt at atmospheric perspective. I like the way it turned out. Backgrounds are very hard for me, which is part of the reason I put this off for so long.

Anyway, this is a younger Mad Anne Flint. She's about sixteen in this picture. She already has some of the pieces that will make up her later outfit, but lacks the giant harpoon gun. Obviously, she can take care of herself.

Story running through my head when I drew this:

She turned to him, her eyes blank and dead, full of madness. His companion lay at her feet, dead or unconscious, the man did not know. What he did know was that he'd made a grave mistake when he'd assumed this girl would be an easy target. Gods! Her blades had flashed almost faster than he could see. Now they were stained red with his friend's blood. He was unsure whether to fight or to run. She'd catch him, those eyes promised. When she caught him, he'd regret trying to run.

"Look," he said, "This is a misunderstanding. I'm sorry. Can we forget it?" He could barely control the pleading in his voice.

"But you promised me a good time," she said. Her voice was dead and terrifying. "You promised me a good time, and I've just started having fun."

Bugger.