They might be. > >
You should have draaaaaaaawn.
Anywho, I finished that thing. Or... It's lacking shading, but I'm tired of working on it.
From a dream I had two months ago. Wrote a bit down:
[...]wind rushing past them, making his hair wave out behind him and giving energy to the waves he could hear crash against the pillars that supported the platform far, far below. He looked nervously around at the other riders, two of them climbing on to their fliers, the other two walking over to the edge and looking down into the water masses. Then one jumped off to his right, and he almost jumped in surprise at the sudden movement as the large flier obediently followed its master.
'Oh my gods, how do they dare that...' he thought, clinging lightly to his flier's neck, a firm grip on the reins to prevent it from walking anywhere. It clearly wanted to. As the two people who'd gotten onto their fliers urged them forward, it almost reared up to follow them.
He couldn't do it, he was sure he couldn't do it, it was too far down, the waves were too scary-looking, they would both be crushed for sure. And then the last of the others took a deep breath and jumped over the edge, her flier gracefully following her with its wings tucked in. He was the only one left.
His flier whinnied and huffed at him, impatient to move, but at the same time seeming to care about him as it nuzzled him with its big beakish muzzle.
"How are we..." he began, but he didn't know how to continue, and it wouldn't be able to answer him anyway. It looked like it knew what to do, though. He swallowed a a clump of nothing and looked at his ride, its strong limbs and confident, eager demeanor. Then he got up. The firm grip on the reins made it stand still as he got into a comfortable position in the saddle, preparing himself to cling on as tightly as possible. He glanced up at the cloudy sky for a moment, feeling the crowd around the harbor waiting for him, waiting for the little coward to...
He let go of the reins entirely, instead gripping the stringy mane of the critter below him, and as it reared up briefly he closed his eyes, shutting out everything that was starting to make him nauseous. All he could feel was the confident living thing beneath him and the swooshing of cold gusts of wind as it began to run forward towards the edge he knew was there but no longer saw.
And then it jumped; a sudden surge of movement followed by a feeling of falling, but he was still close to the critter, and the critter was still alive. He took a deep breath, faintly aware that they'd be in the water soon. [...]