All the best AI models in one place
Flux, Stable Diffusion, DALL-E, Ideogram, RunwayML and more. Try it now for free!
Rose Loren
Created 7 months ago · 6 comments· 0 likes
RealVisXL v4 Lightning7.8x
Goth Baroque Beauty in Winter Woods
This image shows a beautiful woman standing in a winter woodland, wearing a stunning black baroque gown, with intricate details reminiscent of Luis Royo's masterful art style.
Created by litanies on Oct 12, 2024 using the RealVisXL v4 Lightning AI image generator model.
Progress Images
6 Comments
Join the conversation
"Very beautiful ... I feel flattered. Thank you so much." - Rose
💭 Goodness, is this how people see me? Odd, but at least more flattering than how they saw me back home. 💭
Though most of the poem seems to her to describe someone much more intimidating than she perceives herself, one line that does catch her is 'In her, the whispers of the dead find ease.'
That, she prays, is true.
Creation Settings
Text Prompts
Model
Initial Resolution
Medium
Aspect Ratio
1:1
Runtime
Short
Overall Prompt Weight
50%
🤖 NightCafe
🚀 Features
🔒 Secure Payments
PCI compliant payments powered by Paddle and PayPal and Shopify
Copyright © NightCafe Studio Pty LtdCommunity Standards Acknowledgements Privacy Policy Terms of Service Refund Policy Sitemap
In twilight's shade, where mournful whispers roam,
A specter walks, whose form is veiled in mist,
Rose Loren, whose name doth haunting chimes enshrine,
Her beauty, like a curse, too dark to miss.
Her eyes, twin coals from which no light escapes,
Burn through the veil of night with fierce desire;
Her lips, a bloodied rose, with secrets laced,
That speak of ancient deeds and darker fire.
I fear her power, yet my heart doth yearn,
To know the secrets that within her lie;
Her touch, a frost that turns the blood to burn,
A riddle, where the answers only die.
In her, the moon and shadow are as one,
A force revered, yet feared, beneath the sun.
Her presence stirs the silent, haunted trees,
Their gnarled limbs bow as she doth pass them by;
In her, the whispers of the dead find ease,
And in her gaze, the living dare not sigh.
Thus, Rose Loren, in night's embrace doth reign,
A queen of sorrows, cloaked in mystery's train.