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Description
Once, in a life he does not remember, Cahaya was not an esk, but a bird. A man adopted him from a pet store as a young chick; the man had recently lost his wife of nearly thirty years in a car crash, and he had no desire to remarry, instead deciding to adopt a pet he could spend the rest of his days with. He named the bird in honor of his late wife, who he’d called cahayaku, for she had been his light.

Slowly, the little bird grew up and even learned to speak, more or less; he was mischievous, playful, a handful from the very start, but still the man loved him, and the bird returned that affection in kind, even though the man clipped his wings and kept him in a cage much of the time. He ate treats out of the man’s hand, perched on his shoulder and parroted pirate-esque phrases as a party trick, arranged snacks and trinkets in his cage and on the man’s armchair, and for a long time they were happy, an inseparable duo.

Nothing can last forever, though. The man died peacefully in his sleep at the age of ninety, and Cahaya was left sitting in his cage in the living room, perched on his little homemade swing. He called out when the man didn’t come out of his bedroom in the morning, and he kept calling throughout the day. Eventually he tried to open his cage, but the man had long since devised a method to keep the door closed after a young Cahaya figured out how to open it from the inside. The man didn’t come out, and the cage stayed closed, leaving Cahaya to slowly run out of food and water.

Several days passed; the last of Cahaya’s food ran out. He stopped shrieking for his man, giving up and resigning himself to his fate, but finally there came a knock on the door, and then another, and then a pair of strangers came inside. They were policemen performing a wellness check at the request of one of the man’s neighbors, and sure enough they found the man dead, decomposing in the summer heat. Cahaya watched as they took him away, not understanding what was happening, and then the policemen took Cahaya again. They made several phone calls, but couldn’t find a place for him, and finally they took him out into the depths of the forest and set him free, not realizing how his clipped wings and pampered lifestyle would hinder him in the wild.

Cahaya remembers none of that now; all he knows of his past life is his name. Still, though, he arranges trinkets in the thicket he now calls home, and sometimes when he looks to the sky he’s filled with a deep, visceral yearning he can’t fully explain, as if he was always meant to fly.

Finally got around to drawing and writing about Cahaya’s original form! This is for the first origin prompt; there’ll be more to come soon.

Scoring

Writing portion word count: 484

AP
Origin prompt - 50ap
Word count - 484/50 = 9.8 = 9ap
Simple background - 10ap
Full body - 5ap
Personal work - 5ap
Shaded - 10ap
Total - 89 ap

GP
Origin prompt - 15gp
Word count - 484/50 = 9.8/0.5 = 4.84 = 4gp
Simple background = 4gp
Full body - 2gp
Shaded - 4gp
Total - 29gp

Description
Once, in a life he does not remember, Cahaya was not an esk, but a bird. A man adopted him from a pet store as a young chick; the man had recently lost his wife of nearly thirty years in a car crash, and he had no desire to remarry, instead deciding to adopt a pet he could spend the rest of his days with. He named the bird in honor of his late wife, who he’d called cahayaku, for she had been his light.

Slowly, the little bird grew up and even learned to speak, more or less; he was mischievous, playful, a handful from the very start, but still the man loved him, and the bird returned that affection in kind, even though the man clipped his wings and kept him in a cage much of the time. He ate treats out of the man’s hand, perched on his shoulder and parroted pirate-esque phrases as a party trick, arranged snacks and trinkets in his cage and on the man’s armchair, and for a long time they were happy, an inseparable duo.

Nothing can last forever, though. The man died peacefully in his sleep at the age of ninety, and Cahaya was left sitting in his cage in the living room, perched on his little homemade swing. He called out when the man didn’t come out of his bedroom in the morning, and he kept calling throughout the day. Eventually he tried to open his cage, but the man had long since devised a method to keep the door closed after a young Cahaya figured out how to open it from the inside. The man didn’t come out, and the cage stayed closed, leaving Cahaya to slowly run out of food and water.

Several days passed; the last of Cahaya’s food ran out. He stopped shrieking for his man, giving up and resigning himself to his fate, but finally there came a knock on the door, and then another, and then a pair of strangers came inside. They were policemen performing a wellness check at the request of one of the man’s neighbors, and sure enough they found the man dead, decomposing in the summer heat. Cahaya watched as they took him away, not understanding what was happening, and then the policemen took Cahaya again. They made several phone calls, but couldn’t find a place for him, and finally they took him out into the depths of the forest and set him free, not realizing how his clipped wings and pampered lifestyle would hinder him in the wild.

Cahaya remembers none of that now; all he knows of his past life is his name. Still, though, he arranges trinkets in the thicket he now calls home, and sometimes when he looks to the sky he’s filled with a deep, visceral yearning he can’t fully explain, as if he was always meant to fly.

Finally got around to drawing and writing about Cahaya’s original form! This is for the first origin prompt; there’ll be more to come soon.

Scoring

Writing portion word count: 484

AP
Origin prompt - 50ap
Word count - 484/50 = 9.8 = 9ap
Simple background - 10ap
Full body - 5ap
Personal work - 5ap
Shaded - 10ap
Total - 89 ap

GP
Origin prompt - 15gp
Word count - 484/50 = 9.8/0.5 = 4.84 = 4gp
Simple background = 4gp
Full body - 2gp
Shaded - 4gp
Total - 29gp