Win a BJD or BJD goodies!
We are going to be having another WINTERBORN art contest: http://www.featherfall.ca/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=331&products_id=4343
All information on the novel and references for the characters can be found here:
What is it?
Draw your favorite Winterborn character - any media. We ask that you keep it PG13 though.
Deadline: August 25th, 2012. Winners will be announced August 30th.
1st place * (only if there are more than 10 entries to the contest, otherwise 2nd place prize will apply)
Sky Blue Human Iruhi!
This lovely MSD boy is pretty special, as he has human ears instead of the elf ones ( fennec fox ears shown are also included and are magnetic). He will come bald and nude but with the faceup shown, and with a random eyes, but no wig.
BJD head of your choice from our In-stock selection : http://www.featherfall.ca/store/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=335
OR $50 worth of in-stock items of your choice
$25 worth of in-stock items of your choice
HOW TO ENTER: Please send your entry to : email@example.com
(( This takes place decades in the past, and large deals with thei prior relationship and the Yappari. Some of you already saw it but… I have been thinking about that pair a lot of late))
The boulder fell inches away from where Aristophe’s head had been. Letting out an imprecation he rolled Matron over to the relative safety of the western wall, hands throwing up a hasty shield; the crunching of beams and fabric beneath its weight made all other noises in the room wither to silence.
“Iona?” his voice was strained, the pitch forced and foreign. Matron’s eyes flickered open groggily and he hissed under his breath as she sat up, watching the dust settle. He was long past giving allegiance to their deities, but she might yet make a believer out of him.
“Aristophe. Ever the wolf at my door.” She smirked lightly, her face still ashen. She watched as that startled a smile out of the battle mage, barely feeling as he lifted her carefully off the floor.
“Ah, Matron of the Yappari…! Do you mean to say I may yet be the death of you?” he shook his head. “You are made of sterner stuff than I . You will outlive me by many long years.” He glanced back to the wreckage, as beyond voices filtered through. “They’ll find us soon. You best be fully conscious, or they’ll think this my doing.” As the rumbling stopped slowly he gingerly allowed the shield to dissipate, eyes searching the shadows of the room.”I was gone but moments. Your enemies are quick.” He sighed as his free hand moved up to brush its knuckles against her cheek; in stronger times she would not allow such weakness as that touch.
“They are. We kept the pregnancy a secret but -“ sharp eyes turned on him with full force as memory hit. “The child? The boy?” Her hands curled into him, almost claws. He may have been born a male, but he was of her flesh. Her own.
Aristophe let his thumb linger on her chin, his expression foreign in its gentleness.
“Safe with my brother. Gadrian will hide him until I can return.” He whispered, emotions warring in his eyes. “You are certain of this? I have no tender tendencies, nor expertise to rear a child. It has been long since one was born to the clan.”
Iona watched his eyes, the usually bright gold dulled to a dark honey.
“And I, lover of mine? Do you think me any more fit a parent?” her eyebrows rose, as she tried to play light of her decision. “Here he would be a slave to the choices of my people. Here he would grow as nothing more than a pawn for the houses, than an object to covet. You may not know how to give a child love, Aristophe…” she lifted her hand to cup his cheek. “But you gave -me- that much, once. He is the product of it. And you can give him freedom, and a life unfettered. Look around.” She pointed to the remnants of her bed, even as she could hear her household trying to crack the broken door open. “How long would he survive their hatred, and their envy? Would you see your son brought up the concubine of whatever one of my allies — or my enemies— lays claim to him?”
“No.” that much he knew. It was the only reason he had agreed to this madness. “That I can swear to you - to let him lead a life of his own choosing.” He whispered, pressing a hasty kiss. “Iona…”
“Go.” She murmured, pressing her face to his throat for a moment. Some requests she could not make meeting his eyes. “I have a traitor to hunt down and punish, and you have a son to raise.” She swallowed as she felt him nod and step away, seeing the summons of his portal begin to form around him.
“Aristophe.” She called, watching him pause; the debris rose around him and silhouetted his shape strangely as his magic began to distort the area around him. Beyond him she could see the remnants of the tower, and she drew a breath. “Call him Quinne. Call him Quinne, that he may be a wise counsel to you yet.”
The corners of his mouth tilted up and his eyes warmed; he could not force the sound through the magic that dissolved his shape from where she was, but he met her eyes and nodded. His will displaced the world around him until it took him to his brother’s aerie, where his son waited.