Secret Santa Drop Off & Pick-up

Ykesha of Lynn · 12-30-2010, 09:06 PM

And I had....MISS YUKI! ^_^ I'm so sorry it took me so long to get these up, love. >.< Originally I wanted to draw you an avatar but after 2 weeks of practice on my new template, alas, I'm not able to produce anything worth viewing. Sooooo you get a photoshoped one instead! ^_^ Hope you like!

And HOLY SMOKES BUG YOU'RE AMAZING! Did you draw that table?! It's freaking rad! And you did such a good job rendering Ykesha! You got her eyes spot on. ^_^ Thanks dear!

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[Image: YUKI-AVY-DONE.jpg]

Table:
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My eyebrows smell like cheese. More specifically, sharp cheddar.

Beneath the arcing twists of a cathedral ceiling stood a simple wooden table with nine nail heads obtruding from its surface at different angles. A circle of men encased this, their bodies forming a wall of flesh which hid the table from onlookers who might peek in through the old church’s windows. Of these men, none was distinguishable from another. They were all clad in white suites with bronze buttons, and all sported the same copper tie and bronze wristwatch. Some of them were bent in prayer. Most were silent. All had their indolent faces fixated upon a small clay pot which had been placed at the centre of the table. In this pot, someone planted a curious fern whose color was white and whose movement was nonexistent. Indeed, in earlier times this same group of men had offered the fern to an array of wind-producing objects in hopes that the stiff leaves might blow as was natural of plants, but they’d consistently been astonished. No fan could rustle its leaves, no hairdryer could bend its stalk. They thusly concluded that the fern was made of bone..

Such a rarity deserved protection, and these men - Les Frères d'Os, as they called themselves - were a self-appointed assembly bound to guard the bone fern. They collected as a fraternity, each branded with a white tattoo upon his skin in the shape of a leaf as proof of patronage. Many of them had taken the ritual further. One craved a large F onto his palm with a pocket knife. Another completely abandoned his family in order to spend more time near the fern. Such practices were not uncommon amongst those who came into the plant’s vicinity. It had a strange power that granted immeasurable peace to those who looked at it, whether from its strange artistic quality or a more supernatural force. Regardless, the men of Les Frères d'Os had pledged their loyalty to this potted matter with unending sincerity.

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