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Description
Speedpaint: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Azp_6G… ;

    (...) And from the anguished wails of those who were fighting against their will, there rose another, full of anguish and grief. A cat desperate to be heard throughout the cacophony. A member of Skinner's Gang, once stoic but now clearly disdraught, hunched over the broken, dying form of his leader. For though the Skinner had been brought back to life, she, Del, and Aeron were all still grievously wounded. She was beaten, bloody, and breathing hoarsely. Her pelts had been torn off of her back when Nicholas had struck her down, and the scars she bore on her back were exposed for all to see.

    "Freyja," Mjolnir breathed, staring down at her form. She seemed so small now; smaller than she had ever been.

    Blood trickled from the Skinner's mouth. She seemed to be barely aware of what was happening. "My... my..." She rasped, eyes rotating slowly to the side. "Give me my pelt... His pelt... His..."

    Mjolnir was wide eyed, mortified, and gave her a quick nod. He was up and stumbled over to where the old Skinner's pelt lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Returning to the Skinner's side and once again and curling his tail around Aeron, he gently rest the pelt over her back to conceal her scars. None would notice their detail but for those who had already seen them.

    "M... m..." she was fading again. She was too mortally wounded to stay alive even though the life had been placed back in her body.

    "Someone! Help them!" Mjolnir called, his voice was loud and carried over the clearing. His bone leg was gone, though the remnants could be seen in a pile nearby. His breath came in shallow pants as he looked around, desperation flaring in his eyes. Cats were defending themselves from darlkings-turned-ashen and the tom's claws slid out, ready to defend his leader and Aeron from any that came too close. His pelts had slid from his back and sat near his bones. "Please!"

    Those whose attention he had stared on, some in shock. They didn't move or speak and Mjolnir's brow furrowed. They'd never seen this part of him before, they probably wondered where this new side had come from, and in their surprise no action was being taken. "What?" Mjolnir snarled, raising his voice again. "You really thought we were heartless all this time? Emotionless? Well fuck you, I'm not made of stone! None of us are!" He looked down at the Skinner, absolutely mortified.

    "I'm begging you, please save them!" Mjolnir yelled. He tried to activate his Command abilities but they fizzled and went out. His mind was too scattered to focus. Too many many emotions. Too many distractions. He could feel the Skinner and Aeron fading. They were fading. He was losing them.

    And around him, the war raged on.

--

Time Taken: Estimated 2 1/2 hours

The Skinner (c) Riveriia
Mjolnir, Art (c) Me
Please do NOT copy/trace/steal/reference! You are not authorized to use this work without my permission. Thanks!

Description
Speedpaint: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Azp_6G… ;

    (...) And from the anguished wails of those who were fighting against their will, there rose another, full of anguish and grief. A cat desperate to be heard throughout the cacophony. A member of Skinner's Gang, once stoic but now clearly disdraught, hunched over the broken, dying form of his leader. For though the Skinner had been brought back to life, she, Del, and Aeron were all still grievously wounded. She was beaten, bloody, and breathing hoarsely. Her pelts had been torn off of her back when Nicholas had struck her down, and the scars she bore on her back were exposed for all to see.

    "Freyja," Mjolnir breathed, staring down at her form. She seemed so small now; smaller than she had ever been.

    Blood trickled from the Skinner's mouth. She seemed to be barely aware of what was happening. "My... my..." She rasped, eyes rotating slowly to the side. "Give me my pelt... His pelt... His..."

    Mjolnir was wide eyed, mortified, and gave her a quick nod. He was up and stumbled over to where the old Skinner's pelt lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Returning to the Skinner's side and once again and curling his tail around Aeron, he gently rest the pelt over her back to conceal her scars. None would notice their detail but for those who had already seen them.

    "M... m..." she was fading again. She was too mortally wounded to stay alive even though the life had been placed back in her body.

    "Someone! Help them!" Mjolnir called, his voice was loud and carried over the clearing. His bone leg was gone, though the remnants could be seen in a pile nearby. His breath came in shallow pants as he looked around, desperation flaring in his eyes. Cats were defending themselves from darlkings-turned-ashen and the tom's claws slid out, ready to defend his leader and Aeron from any that came too close. His pelts had slid from his back and sat near his bones. "Please!"

    Those whose attention he had stared on, some in shock. They didn't move or speak and Mjolnir's brow furrowed. They'd never seen this part of him before, they probably wondered where this new side had come from, and in their surprise no action was being taken. "What?" Mjolnir snarled, raising his voice again. "You really thought we were heartless all this time? Emotionless? Well fuck you, I'm not made of stone! None of us are!" He looked down at the Skinner, absolutely mortified.

    "I'm begging you, please save them!" Mjolnir yelled. He tried to activate his Command abilities but they fizzled and went out. His mind was too scattered to focus. Too many many emotions. Too many distractions. He could feel the Skinner and Aeron fading. They were fading. He was losing them.

    And around him, the war raged on.

--

Time Taken: Estimated 2 1/2 hours

The Skinner (c) Riveriia
Mjolnir, Art (c) Me
Please do NOT copy/trace/steal/reference! You are not authorized to use this work without my permission. Thanks!