Welcome to my little corner of the World

Geez,

Haven't updated this in a really long time.

Sadly Avatar, my favorite animation series, has ended and maybe that's okay because I'm trying to venture out a little bit more and draw other things, though I find my time so limited (which reflects in my drawing skills, lol)

Still, it's a lot of fun when I do get in the groove.

My latest drawing adventures are around the old 1980's TV Series, Beauty and the Beast, starring Ron Perlman (who by FAR is THE MOST darling beast) and his counterpart love Linda Hamilton.

After nearly twenty years I FINALLY broke down and watched the last season which I had adamently said I never would once I figured out they killed off Beauty. How horrible!

But I must admit (though I still destest the whole idea of Vincent losing Catherine) Ron Perlman did some of his best work on those episodes and made me just love him all the more!

My tissue box was out during those grief scenes! POOR VINCENT! And I loved how he played those mind games with Gabriel in the end!

And okay, Vincent and Catherine's son was absolutely CUTE and I just loved those scenes of Vincent holding him. What a DADDY!

But darn it! Couldn't the writer's have left SOME hope Catherine would return! I mean this is suppose to be a FAIRY TALE and we all eventually wanted a HAPPY ENDING! (not some attempt at a red headed replacement)

Oh well, I guess that will just have to be up to a few good fanfiction writers and our imaginations. (Not that I think I rate as good one, but.....hmmmmm....)

***Gets pencil out, looks at it, tosses it aside, opens Microsoft Word***Much better!

Chapter 1

Winter had fully settled in blanketing the city of New York with another four inches of snow, slowing the already congested traffic to an even greater standstill. Honking cars expressed their discontent as the mass of pedestrians with coats tightly buttoned and waist belts cinched against the freezing chill tried to maneuver across slick streets and along crowded sidewalks still banked in places with piles of grey dingy snow churned up from the army of snowplows that had already attacked the streets several hours earlier. The atmosphere of the city was cold, bleak and noisy.

But far below the city, far below its streets and subways, a warmer world existed, hidden. Here, in this underworld labyrinth of tunnels and caverns long forgotten, or lost or never known by most Above, there was warmth and security and all sorts of interesting sounds. The soft constant metallic taps on the pipes and muffled whines from subways trains passing somewhere overhead were background lullabies echoing through the chamber’s vaulted rock walls. These were mingled with murmured voices still new but becoming familiar with each passing day.

And it was these sounds the newborn infant heard first when he awoke from his nap staring up into a shadowy darkness enveloped in a warm flickering glow from a place that receded just beyond his vision, blocked by the walls of the bassinet in which he rested. The child lay for several long minutes gazing into the warm darkness listening with seeming interest until one murmured voice in particular seemed to catch his attention. The deep masculine tone with its soft comforting texture caused the baby to turn its head in the direction of the sound and a few minutes later a whimpered cry issued forth.

The face that appeared a few seconds later with its deep set eyes below rigid brows and half hidden in the shadows by a full mane of tawny colored hair had often elicited cries of alarm by strangers upon a first encounter, but to the baby, only caused his eyes to widen in recognition and to stem the tremble from his lips.

The face with its unique angular features, gazed down on the tiny being and seconds later, as if incapable of doing otherwise, large powerful hands with fingers strangely covered in fine red-golden fur and tapered claws instead of nails reached down and scooped the tiny body up. Despite their menacing appearance, strength and size, the hands held the baby with great care.

The face, with its slightly flattened nose covered also in fine fur, its slightly protruding muzzle and wide mouth which hid the pair of glistening fangs just beneath, had the appearance of part man, part mythical lion, yet its gaze remained wondrously drawn to the child’s finely arched eyebrows, the soft rounded cheeks, the full lips and curved jaw that had Catherine’s imprint strongly upon him. Only the child’s eyes, a deep sapphire blue which sparkled in the candlelight, mirrored those of his father who held him...