Chaus and the Feather

He settled himself on his branch again, his lazy smugness returning, smiling indolently from around the tip of the feather shaft clamped firmly between his teeth. It hung, tugged gently by the wind, one side sunset golden.

Woo, a picture that represents an actual scene. Yay. Of course, things are getting written, too, I'm just on an art kick right now.

The pine tree is generic and painfully unreferenced. And needles are like grass: pain in the rump to get to look so much as decent, let alone right. Bah.

The colors were a bit different in Photoshop, thanks to my color settings. They were brighter and more vibrant. But, eh, the difference isn't that bad.

Tablet + Photoshop. Unknown number of hours, though it doesn't feel like it took all that long.