I fear there has NEVER been a more Kevin Day song ever made. PLEASE all aftg fans go listen to lyrics of this and think about Kevin, all he went through, his public image, his personality around the foxes at first, his family name, people’s opinions of him, him overcoming all of the bullshit he went though, let riko be king queen tattoo, him swapping to his left hand, him getting out and getting free.
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I'm not an expert, I know nothing about ornithology or biology or zoology or wildlife science or animal behaviours or animal intelligence, but sometimes I think about the fact that birdwatchers in Toronto observed a raven learn how to mimic crow calls, make a nest with a crow and raise a pair of crow-raven hybrids the birdwatchers referred to as cravens and I just think. That's gotta be love, baby.
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As long as none have shown up with three eyes.
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'Seven Ravens - Table' by Jana Heidersdorf
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Shyama Golden (Sri Lankan-American, 1983) - Cover Art for Ravens (2019)
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-Voices-
A collection of portraits depicting the voices from Slay the Princess, taking inspiration from the style of the video game Disco Elysium!
The Voice of the Hero, a knight, an iconic silhouette against a luminant halo. A color palette of black, blue, and teal.
The Voice of the Hunted, a beast trying to protect its heart from danger, represented here as a crosshair.
The Voice of the Smitten, the knife wound letting loose lovely streams of swirling bodily juices into the air.
The Voice of the Cold, dark, and angular. Something completely unafraid to kill.
The Voice of the Skeptic, attempting to fly, tearing himself away from chains and what looks like his own body.
The Voice of the Paranoid, Frantic and multi-eyed, clutching at a wound.
The Voice of the Contrarian, flying in stark contrast to the others, glowing instead of secluded, a mischievous fairy or will o' the wisp, instead of a grotesque figure.
The Voice of the Broken, shattered and leaking. A humanoid figure is no longer recognizable.
The Voice of the Stubborn, Fiery eyes, and big meaty claws. The brushwork is chaotic.
The Voice of the Cheated, smoke leaking from puncture wounds still embedded within him. He's holding a cigar, too; probably where all the smoke is coming from.
The Voice of the Opportunist, carrying multiple masks on his person, and wielding a poorly concealed knife.
And finally (for now) The Long Quiet itself, the night sky, swirling sigils blurred in the dark.
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