I just started watching Gargoyles and I love it so far.
Speedpaint of Goliath.
Doodled away while my class were doing critique, suddenly wanted to draw Brooklyn
Before I am your daughter.
Your sister,your aunt,niece or cousin.
I am my own person.
And I will not set fire to myself
to keep you warm.
Day two and Elisa’s shoulder was still aching.
The gunshot wound wasn’t so bad in her opinion. She knew how to cope with pain. It was the sitting around that bothered her; staying in bed like a useless slug—
(Doctor’s orders! they’d insisted)
—When all the while her friends and colleagues were out on the street, risking themselves to protect the people of New York. That was what she wanted to be doing. That was what she’d set out to do from the time she was a little girl.
Laying around actually made the pain
It was dusk by the time she finally managed to settle down. She curled up on one corner of the sofa with a book in her lap, and she was so engrossed that she hardly noticed the sun dip below the jagged Manhattan horizon. She only realized what time it was when a shadow appeared on the ledge outside her window and tapped at the glass.
She started to get up, but he was already pushing the window open and climbing inside. She was left standing
uselesslyin the middle of the living room, fidgeting over the fact that she hadn’t showered yet and she probably looked like a mess.
“Goliath,” she greeted gently, peering bashfully up at the hulking beast.
“Matt Bluestone delivered the news,” he explained, his deep, gravelly voice gentle. Unlike the other gargoyles, Goliath had never fully adapted to modern language. He didn’t speak like a New Yorker—nor did he speak with an unwashed Scottish accent like Hudson. He was deliberately eloquent, selective with his words and careful as he spoke them. His love of linguistics was one of his most attractive traits, in Elisa’s opinion.
“I visited the hospital, but you slept through the night. I kept vigil over your room.” He raised one large, taloned hand as he spoke and combed her hair away from her face—a significant gesture in the eyes of a gargoyle.
She knew that his claws were capable of
ripping through solid stone, but they had
never been anything but gentle in their
handling of her.
“You’re all making a fuss out of nothing,” she dismissed with a smile. “It’s just a flesh wound. I don’t think Dracon’s men even try to kill me anymore—it’s all just a competition to see who can land me in the hospital most often.”
Goliath’s answering scowl clearly expressed his disapproval.
“Lighten up, will you?” she teased, moving away to sit on the couch again.
The monolithic creature remained unconvinced. He pursued her to the sofa and knelt in front of her, eyeing the bandages on her shoulder. “May I?”
The wrappings were only loosely concealed by a wide-necked sweatshirt—all that she’d had the patience to pull over her head when she’d woken up. She let the shirt slide off her shoulder, exposing the carefully dressed injury. Goliath leaned closer—
so close that for a moment she could detect
the familiar scent of petrichor and dust
—and though his claw hovered over the bandages, he didn’t touch.
“It will take some time to heal,” he noted.
“Yeah, we can’t all be lucky enough to heal overnight like you.” Though her words were teasing, her tone was affectionate, and she seized his hand to thread through her fingers. “It’s okay, Goliath.”
“I should have been there to protect you.”
He settled back on his haunches, his tail twitching irritably as his features settled into a deep grimace.
“We’ve been through this.
I’m a big girl, I can handle my own problems. Take on my own enemies.”
“Yet your list of enemies seems to have outgrown your list of friends, as of late,” he observed, his squared face angling downward.
“—Comes with being a cop.”
“It comes with befriending a pack of monstrous moonlight crusaders.”
“You know, technically I could argue that that’s also applicable to the NYPD.”
He answered with a frown and she leaned forward to cup his angular, sculpted cheek in one hand. “I’ve made my choice,” she insisted firmly. “I’d rather risk getting hurt for my friends than spend my life perfectly safe without any.”
His head leaned into her touch, and for a moment she was preoccupied with the sensation of his leathery skin. It was the skin of a mammal—no scales, thankfully—but thicker than that of a human, more akin to hide. It grew coarser where it stretched taut over his arms and chest, and at times, she itched just to touch him—to explore the peculiar landscape of his inhuman body, map out his anatomy as no one ever had. But that was just a fantasy. She didn’t have the guts to make a move, even if she knew he had feelings for her.
Their whole relationship was a
house of cards.
It had been precarious from the
beginning, despite the immediacy of
their attraction. She was terrified that
taking it one step further would be all
that was necessary to bring it
I couldn’t stop at just a sketch for this.
Today’s suggested theme is “mash-ups”… so Fox from Gargoyles decided to swap outfits with Black Widow. Dude, redheaded mercenaries, both owned by Disney now? … It’s an idea so obvious I’m SURE it’s already been done.
If I hadn’t have screwed up the proportions like mad, it would be awesome. ;)