Building in the clouds,
closer to the sun
Is it safe? Is it doable?
But above all: Is it sane?
/* Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook – Porte-mine sur carnet A6 */
Construire au dessus des nuages
Soulève des questions en pagaille
Est-ce bien stable ? Est-ce faisable ?
Mais surtout : est-ce bien sage ?
No fish today, the river has run dry
Things are not the same anymore.
But I’m still doing the same, so why?
Why was it so much easier before?
***
Pas de poisson, toute sèche est la rivière.
Les choses ne sont plus les mêmes maintenant
Pourtant je fait comme le faisait mon père,
Pourquoi c’était bien plus facile avant ?
– Do you think it’s really ok to go fishing like that in the ritual pond?
– Don’t worry… As long as our elder don’t find out, we’re safe!
– I hope so! he wouldn’t hesitate to throw us in the pond…
– Oh look, I caught something!
– ME TOO, I CAUGHT TWO SOMETHING.
– Hu ho…
***
– Tu penses que c’est vraiment ok de pêcher comme ca dans le bassin rituel ?
– T’en fais pas… Tant que le vieux ne le sais pas, on est tranquilles !
– J’espère bien ! Il n’hésiterait pas à nous balancer dedans…
– Hé, regarde ! J’en ai attrapé un !
– ET MOI J’EN AI ATTRAPE DEUX.
– Oh non…
Inktober 2019 – Cultists Edition
Ink brush on A6 sketchbook / Encre au pinceau sur Carnet A6
Severn Valley, February the 27th, England.
Ed
was drunk. Not ordinary drunk, but reaaally over-the-top kind of drunk.
This discussion and planning with all this gibberish about sorcerers
and Gavigan, and Penhew and stuff left him so bored he discretely went
to the secretaire, picked the lock, and snatch a bottle of whiskey.
Little he know ‘tis was no run-off-the-mill bottle, it was a 300 £
Master of Malt brand. Ed was not used to such fine beverage and emptied
the bottle in a few sips while the gang were plotting. And his mind wend
blurry. Deciding to let the plotting and talking to Sean, he went outside
to find girls. In his confused mind, the proximity of the lake, and the
need for fresh air led him to go and try fishing girls. Literally. So
he found a long stick, a thread and some panties and went outside. In
the snow. He climbed the wall, ignoring Asogwe the hougan which was being
devoured by some trees, and went to the lake.
There
was already a fisherman there. With some nice bait in his pocket Ed
tried to snitch. But the fisherman slap him on the wrist, though he
didn’t seem to mind Ed presence and confusing chatting.
–
Y’ know wha ? yer a good lis’ner. I like ya ! Sorry for tryin’ ta
snitching yer baits, mate. Mind if I tag along to fish wi’t ya ?
Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
Excerpt from an ongoing run of the “Mask of Nyarlathotep” campaign for the Chaosium “Call of Cthulhu” RPG