The flappy hands of a wild, wonderful, brilliant wolf boy.

Increíble imagen, me encantan las texturas y los detalles, la paleta de colores y temática es asombrosa, espléndido trabajo 👏👏👏

I wish I could comment on each of your creations how wonderful they are. But I understand..

I fell to the ground, my body shuttering and shaking with spirits. Every ragged, shaky, defiant breath that rattled through my crooked, aching body was the breath of a true, beautiful, broken, brilliant, valid, dysphoric man. A warm black body pressed against mine. Einion tucked their nose beneath my ebony hands and I began to stroke them rhythmically. They purred, the lulling melody one of warmth and safety. The hand that did not stroke Einion flapped freely in the chilly air. The fingers tingled with bright, pounding electricity. The electricity of life and fire and the spirits of old. The spirits that lived on still, through the wolf entwined within my soul and the stories sung in the gloaming by wayfaring wanderers. My hands flapped. Free, beautiful, flappy, happy hands. The flappy hands of a wild, wonderful, brilliant wolf boy.

I breathed in and out and flapped my hands. Black whisps, shadow demons who took the form of mighty ravens rose from my flappy fingers and dissipated into the misty dawn. The demons shuddered and cried and rose from my crooked body in a great cloud of dark fog. I had spent so long working on healing my fractured souls. Others had helped. Those who I loved and those who I trusted and helped me to fill the cracks in my heart with shining golden light.