To Dance Again.

This is a true story. It didn't quite happen this way, well, when we moved I tried to do ballet here before fencing, but it just didn't work, the dance schools here are... *shudders* I don't want to think about them. That's when I did fencing and then just today I started Irish Dance. It's good to be back, to be flying again. :P
Sometimes I don't tell people because I think then they'll think this is the reason I quite ballet. But it's not, I love ballet and I know you can do beautiful dances with softshoe.

---------

I threw a chunk of rosin across the stage, then ran to it and smashed the fragments into dust, spreading it around. Around me, three of my friends were throwing and crunching the rosin.
It didn’t quite seem real, tonight was our dance recital, Peter Pan. Every other year, my dance school, Milligan School of Ballet, put on a recital.
This time was different, though. A few months after the recital we would be moving overseas. I crushed some more rosin with my feet, trying to enjoy the evening as much as I could. I would find another dance school there, I thought, not nearly as good as Milligans, but there’s got to be something over there.
We always had warm-up an hour before the performance would start, then a make-up check before we had to go backstage to wait. Warm-up was lots of fun. Shawn (a graduate with a dance major, playing Captain Hook) got there late, just as we were about to start. He settled down behind me, then smiled at Miss Karen. She said ‘Well, I guess now that you’re here, we can start.’
And we did. We began with plies, a few grand plies, some bends, rises, and demi plies. Then came tendus. We skipped degajes and maybe rondejambe (I can’t really remember), maybe even frappe and fendu. But we did grand batmante, and an extremely fun jumping pattern – 4 tempsleves in first, second, then in fifth. Then we went faster. And faster. Finally, we went from the corner. We started with sisone tombe padaburee glissade, grandjete, which we call ‘I just broke my arm, so take me home,’ because that fits the rhythm of it. After doing that from both sides, we did peka tours, or for those who hadn’t learned them, chene tours. We went again, this time, the group I was with did ‘peka down, peka down, chene, chene, chene.’ Then right before our make-up check, we did falee asamble. I almost fell right through the curtain because of my diagonal.

Since the recital was Peter Pan, the dances matched different things in Peter Pan with narration in between them. My classes were The Indians and the faeries.
The Indian dance was first. We had orange costumes, a velour leotard with little gold vines, then a layered skirt below it. Miss Karen had gotten us suntan tights to wear under our costume, and we were barefoot. I had rubbed baby powder on my feet before we went on, but walking back stage had caused it to come off. Thankfully, all my turns were smooth. Near the end of the dance, a friend and I glanced at each other and had to hold in smiles, since this was supposed to be a sad dance. When we finished, I watched a few dances in the wings before I went to change into my faerie costume, which was an empire waist with a long blue and lavender skirt. Miss Karen had sewn silver netting onto the back for wings. I changed, and we waited longer, through intermission and most of scene three. The faerie dance went perfectly. It was a lot of fun, right to the finish. I felt sad when I left the stage, but at least I would be leaving on a good note, if you will. More like a good foot.
We got back late that night, and I cried myself to sleep.
I had to face it: from now on, I was a student of an unknown dance studio. It sounded strange, but it was true.

The next few months were filled with finishing up school, testing, packing, and farewells. I wrote Miss Karen a few times during those months, and our goodbye to her was one of the hardest ones for all of us. But something else happened in those months, something that changed my life forever.
I thought my parents were just taking me out for dessert to talk and remember Milligans, since they had asked me to bring my ballet scrapbook. We went to Baker’s Square, and found a secluded booth. I ordered a piece of pie, and we started looking through the scrapbook. Then Daddy got serious, and Mommy came to sit by me. He pulled out a letter written in Miss Karen’s handwriting, and I knit my eyebrows together.
“Kyleigh asked me in a letter a little while ago about pointe… I talked with Karen” – my mom – “about this some before, and thought it would be best if you told Kyleigh instead of me. Karen, you had noticed that Kyleigh has a hip tilt making it hard for her to have proper ballet form. And without proper ballet form, she would not be able to go on pointe without overworking herself, which would only make things worse.”
From the first sentence, I knew what was coming, and was trying to hold back tears. By the end I was sobbing. Daddy didn’t have to ask if I understood what it meant, it was quite clear that I did. They talked to me for a while, I can’t remember all they said, just that we were there until I calmed down a little.
I cried myself to sleep again that night.

In the morning I had school, and before I did math I opened the door to our balcony to look outside. A Bible verse entered my head, and soon after it another. “Joy comes in the morning,” was the first, and it was true, I was feeling a bit better, and knew there were other options other than ballet. The second was “a time for mourning and a time for dancing” from Ecclesiastes… and I realized I’d danced for 8 years, maybe it was time to move on.
I didn’t tell anyone about what had happened, nobody ever asked anything. We had recital pictures three days later, and I remember walking around the studio one last time looking at everything and seeing a pair of unused pointe shoes sitting on Miss Karen’s shelves… and remembered how I used to hope they were for me someday, and that after every class she’d call me over and tell me.

We moved to Dubai a month later. It was beautiful there, and I loved it. Since it was summer, we didn’t have school or any activities, so we were busy unpacking and meeting new people.
The youth group there had a progressive dinner, and I met David there. Little did I know that this American intern from Austria would play a big role in my decision. In the car on the way from place to place, we somehow got on the topic of dance, and I mentioned I used to do ballet. And they asked if I’d be doing it here. I shrugged. Then David’s next words surprised me:
“I did ballet when I was younger. My feet were turned in.”
Then he asked what I thought I’d do if I didn’t dance.
I told him I’d been considering fencing, and he told me about all sorts of different kinds of fencing, like Japanese versions and such.
That night I thought more about it, praying and thinking about what else I could do. I decided to give fencing a try.
Excited for my first evening at fencing, I got all my things out early that afternoon, then wrote my friends about what I was going to do.
The fencing club was almost twice as big as the studio at Milligans. Three pistes (the area where a match takes place) stretched across the floor, and there were benches, warm-up areas, and racks full of fencing equipment. I stared at it all, then started to do my own warm-up until the instructor came.
I loved my first night of fencing, and kept up with it for a few months. But I’m always jumping around from thing to thing, changing my mind until I find something challenging enough.
Fencing wasn’t quite challenging enough. I still did it for another month or two, during which David left back to Austria.


Then one evening I was listening to some classical music in my bedroom when suddenly a song I recognized came on. I remembered it as one of the songs we used to use for Plies at Milligans, on a cold winter evening, those times when your favorite place in the world was a dance school. I started crying. Before long, I was sobbing. A picture popped into my head of me dancing in the studio. Miss Karen was standing by watching, while I went through plies. It didn’t seem like anyone else was there in the studio, just me and MK, as we often called her. I grabbed the back of my chair and plied along with the music.
Then I was sure of one thing: God was telling me to dance again.
I ran and got my ballet shoes, pulling them on.
I took a step.
It felt good to be back in ballet shoes after so long. Somewhere in my head, music began to play. Lifting my head high, I took a starting position in the corner. One, two, three, one, two, three… and I began to dance. Mazurka. Balance turning. Slide hop. Slide together. Sisone Asamble. Sisone ferme. Peka down, peka down, peka down, chene chene chene chene. Pirouette. Susu…
As I danced, the steps came back and I jumped higher, turned more steadily, and the old freedom I had felt when I used to dance was there.
It didn’t matter that what I’d originally been working for was gone, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t go on pointe.
All that mattered right then was that I would dance again.



Cait, if you read this, I'm sorry I never told you in person... it was just too hard to talk about when it mattered, and then it didn't matter, so I didn't need to tell you.


Over'n'out
Kilo-Yankee

Recent stuff.

A drawing... to the song "Revival" by Robin Mark.

A cover for a DVD, well, we have this really neat software that'll print it so it's a sticker and you can put it on the DVD.

More Timeline graphics... not too pleased with the banner, was a bit trickier than I'd have liked.

Graphics and a few skits.

My Lady Claire sig set, made from the movie Timeline.

A wallpaper for a villain wallpaper contest on A-U. I think it turned out pretty well.

A banner for someone on A-U. I ended up making the text bigger, but I liked this version better.

For another A-U contest... I think I crammed a bit too much onto here, but couldn't find the proper pictures, so it didn't turn out as well as I'd have liked.

Some skits I thought of a while ago... just put them together recently, though.

Ext. Mound of Dirt, beach, or desert.

(two children are seen playing around there, just hiking/walking. One of them then picks up a rock and examines it)

Girl:

Hey, Nate, look at this! I think it’s like what Mrs. Jameson was talking about the other day in science, when she said that we still find fossils of creatures from way back when, like three billion years or something like that today.

Boy:

(a bit doubtfully)

Yeah, maybe. But what creature would it have come from? I mean, like a sea creature or land animal or human or what?

(camera fades out and fades back into the girl sitting at her desk, drawing. NATE looks over her shoulder. the GIRL holds up her drawing. Camera zooms in on it, then quickly cuts to a “Where’s the Beef sign” as an alarm sound goes off)

END PART ONE

Int. News report

(news logo flashes across screen with a little bit of music, then fades in to a news reporter at a desk.)

Carl:

An astonishing find at KFC this morning may have been a find for a missing link in evolution. This missing link: the connection between a spoon and a fork. Kelly is over at KFC right now, interviewing the young man who made this find. Kelly?

Kelly:

Yes, it’s true – we’ve found the missing link between a spoon and a fork. What is it, you ask? It’s nothing more than a simple utensil people eating at KFC use daily: a spork. I’m here with a young man named John who realized that the spork may be the missing link we’re looking for. Tell us about it, John.

John:

Yeah, well, okay. So I was just sitting there, eating my food and kind of playing with the spork because I didn’t really need it and think sporks are the coolest things ever, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, I was thinking about how it’s not a spoon or a fork and suddenly realized that it’s neither but must be a missing link… and thought that was absolutely incredible and was information that needed to be passed on to the world.

Kelly:

So there you have it, Carl, that’s the story of the spork.

Carl:

Thank you, Kelly. There’s been a sudden report from Dubai, saying that the…

(camera fades out, along with Carl’s voice).

Kilo-Yankee.

Broken Trust and a few more graphics.

I don’t know why I did it.

I wish I hadn’t.

She used to trust me, and I broke that trust.

“If they catch us, they’ll think you’re the spy,” She’d said. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

I looked away from her, ashamed at what I knew.

I watched as they kicked her awake, then put a sword to her throat. I wish I could’ve done something then to save her, but I wasn’t ready to risk my life. As they hauled her to her feet, fear shone in her eyes. She glanced at me.

And I looked away.

To this day, it still hurts to remember all that. Even though we did eventually make up.

There I go, rambling down rabbit trails. You’re probably wondering what in the world I’m talking about, who she is, and all that who what when where why how nonsense.

We’re going to have to go back in time to answer your questions.

Back a long time.

Thirty years, more like.

-----

I was fourteen that year. Well, “that” year doesn’t quite do.

It was the year that the rebels began to pull out of the rut. See, for the past five years a large group of people rebelled against the government because it was becoming corrupt. My dad and I lived in an apartment in the middle of town. It was noisy, the walls were thin, and it was dirty. The thatched roof was falling apart, so the people on the top floor complained about leakage during the rainy season. Tenants on the bottom floor got snow seeping in the cracks at the corners. Smack in the middle, all we got was noise.

I remember being so excited to turn fourteen, my dad decided that he would start teaching me swordplay. And turned out to be very useful.

My dad and I didn’t always get along, he was on the side of the government, while I wasn’t sure which side to take. My friends and I would often discuss politics during breaks in our sports, and I would try not to take sides, sometimes fights would break out, and the outcome was not pretty.

Three months later, enter Philana. She was also fourteen. The first time I saw her, I thought she was beautiful. Her long brown hair was neatly brushed and tied back with a lavender ribbon. She was wearing a plain brown dress like the other young girls, but I was drawn to her face. She nodded briefly to me as she passed by, and I nodded back. I didn’t see her again for a few months, and when I did it was under totally different circumstances.

She had been chosen to make the trek to the city, to get some information from the government. Yeah, working as a spy. Her father basically led the rebels in our town, and her mother, like mine, had died in the plague that had swept the town when we were children. My father was against her going alone, and so, without my saying anything, he suggested I go along. I guess he thought I’d want to. At least that’s what I thought at the time. Little did I know that I would end up a turncoat.

My dad got home from the meeting that night, sat down on a floor cushion, and told me to sit down next to him. I plopped down on the floor.

“Rory, you’re going on a trip tomorrow.”

“‘You?’ Not ‘we?’”

“You,” My dad emphasized the you this time, “are going to the city.”

“Why?”

“Philana, the leader’s daughter, is going as a spy.”

“Dad, I thought you were against the rebels.”

“That’s my point exactly. One, I don’t want a young girl out in the wild alone. And two, you can turn her in.”

“I don’t think that’s right, dad. So I’m going to protect her from the very thing I’m going to turn her into.”
“I’m not worried about when she gets to the city, it’s along the way you’ll need to protect her.”

“I still find it pretty ironic.”

“Doesn’t matter what you think. You’re going. Get your sword, an extra tunic, and some food.”

I started packing, dad’s words ringing in my head. I’m not going to turn her in. I couldn’t do that, not to anyone, especially not to a girl, and more especially not to… well, not to her.

We set off on foot the next morning. I was quiet, my mind focused on the night before. She watched me curiously, her head tilted to the left the slightest bit. Her brown eyes studied me carefully. A thought flashed across my mind, and I tried to hold back a smile. It was a stupid thought, and after I thought it I had to try to keep from looking at her. I wondered if she had ever noticed me when I was out in the town playing sports with the other boys before… if she noticed me like I noticed her. But that was stupid.

I wondered how I could do what dad wanted me to do. I couldn’t imagine turning her in. It just didn’t seem right. Philana had gotten a little ways ahead of me, and now she stopped to look back, poised up on a flat rock, the wind playing with her hair.

“You coming?” She asked.

“Yeah.” I shifted my bag to the other shoulder. “Sorry,” I mumbled as I passed her. She fell into step behind me, and we walked in silence for a while. I still couldn’t work anything out. I wanted dad to be proud of me. But it was wrong to do that to a girl, even if she was my enemy. Wait, correction, I didn’t mean to think that. Even if she was my dad’s enemy.

I wondered how long I would have before I would have to turn her in. If I did. Man, was this ever confusing. I should’ve found one of my friends to talk it over with before we left. It probably would’ve helped.

Midday came and left, we ate a meal, then kept going. My bare feet hurt from the stones. Philana had no shoes, either, and I made a mental note to make some… or at least try someday. I could be a shoemaker. Ha. Riiight.

We entered the forest a little while before dark, and I could tell Philana was trying to be brave. To tell the truth, I was, too. But I didn’t want a girl to see I was afraid. Besides, it was only a bunch of trees… with wild animals… and it was dark… and… and scary. I shivered. Philana stepped closer.

“W-why don’t we make a fire?” I suggested, trying to sound like I knew what I was doing.

“We’d have to go find wood.” She pointed out.

“We’re going to want a fire sooner or later, why not do it now while it’s still light, at least some?”

She sighed, letting her sack fall from her shoulder. “I’ll make camp, you go.”

I nodded nervously, then took my cloak from my bag. “I’ll be back before too long.”

To this day, I don’t know how long I spent looking for wood. But when I got back with an armload of it, Philana had laid out both of our blankets and dug a fire pit.

And now I gotta make the fire.

So I stuck some of the wood in the pit and added twigs and dead leaves for kindling. Then I didn’t know what to do. She must have realized that, because she gently took the wood and showed me how… and told me to do it. Taking a deep breath, I repeated her actions. A spark! Then another! Then my cloak caught fire… I dropped the wood in, and the fire started to burn as I stamped out the fire in my cloak. When I finished, I glanced toward Philana, who was trying her best not to laugh.

“Good job with the fire,” she said.

I grunted.

---

The next morning we packed up camp quickly and started off again.

We were quiet for most of the morning, concentrating on our direction while still in the forest. When we finally got out, we took a quick rest, then went on our way again. It was awkward, walking side by side and no one talking.

“So… uh… Philana…”

She coughed, and I guessed she was trying to suppress a laugh. I rolled my eyes. Why couldn’t I do this?

“You lived in Byshan your whole life?”

“Yes.”

Well, there, I tried. I just couldn’t make conversation with a girl. And that was that. We trudged on in silence for a while, just looking at the scenery, which was now quite unfamiliar. But Philana seemed to know where to go.

“Do you sing?” She asked after a while, tilting her head again, this time to the right. She was smiling faintly, and her eyes danced.

I scratched at my nose. “Some. Not really.”

She broke into a Byshani folk song, and I couldn’t help but join in. So we sang. If there was a song I didn’t know, she’d teach it to me. Or sometimes she’d sing alone. She had a low voice, for a girl, but it fit her well. At the moment, mine was a teensy bit higher than hers, but it wouldn’t stay like that for long.

We stopped outside a small town, and I put my cloak on to cover my sword, but kept my hand on it at all times. You never know what might jump out at you in strange and unfamiliar territory. We got a few strange looks, but that was all, and we were through. I breathed a sigh of relief. We’ll just say I wouldn’t be considered good with a sword.

I felt more comfortable with Philana now, and I think she did, too. Conversation still didn’t come easily, but we had something in common, and it kept us busy during the day. So I wasn’t troubled with my decision until evening. I was still as torn as ever. Something changed during the night. I don’t know what it was. I got up, scribbled a note in the dirt to Philana, telling her I’d be back soon and not to worry. Then I ran. I ran back to the village, and up into a government building. There was a single light on, and I ran to that room, pounding on the door. It opened, and I almost fell inside.

“What in the world are you doing at this time of night?” An elderly man asked.

I gasped for breath as I spoke. “I have news from the rebels… there’s a young girl traveling with me. And she is a spy. She’s sleeping a few miles from here. It would be best… to be intercepted tomorrow night.”

Then I turned and left. It was done. I couldn’t take back what I’d just said… and as I left the building I was already regretting what I’d just done. Philana shouldn’t have been turned in. It was wrong… I’d been ready to protect her just that morning, and already I was… I was going against that.

It was almost light when I got back to the camp, and Philana was just waking up.

“Where were you?” She demanded. “I was starting to get worried.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Things took longer than I thought.”

Then she said it. It kinda came from nowhere, but it hurt like a knife.

“If they catch us, they’ll think you’re the spy,” She’d said. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

I looked away.

Then I started to shake. “I’m sorry, Philana… I’m so sorry.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Sorry for what?”

“We need to get moving.”

And that was all I said. I could’ve saved her again. But I was scared of what she’d think of me. Of what she’d say or do.

Most of all I was scared of the sad truth:

I was a coward.

-------

I had to work hard to keep the tears back as we walked that day. Already I was wishing I hadn’t done it. I don’t know why I had, it just kind of happened. Well, I can’t claim that. I did it, and now I can’t take it back, and it hurt. We trudged on in silence, and if Philana had wanted to talk I probably wouldn’t have. I saw her look my way a few times, and she had a strange expression on her face. She was probably wondering what I had done that night.

I couldn’t undo what I had done, but I could protect Philana tonight. Or try, anyway.

Darkness fell, and we made camp in a small cave. After dinner, Philana went to bed, and I sat in the cave entrance with my sword across my lap, trying to feel brave.

Then I heard voices and clanking armor. I scrambled to my feet, holding my sword in readiness. My hands were shaking as I held it, and I wanted to run and hide in the back of the cave. A soldier turned into the cave entrance, and my sword wobbled.

“Drop your sword, boy.” The soldier commanded. Two more soldiers came in, drawing their swords. I sheathed my sword, then with a nod from the first soldier, the other two began to back me up against a wall.

I watched as they kicked her awake, then put a sword to her throat. I wish I could’ve done something then to save her, but I wasn’t ready to risk my life. As they hauled her to her feet, fear shone in her eyes. She glanced at me.

And I looked away. Coward.

At first they half-dragged her out of the cave, and the two soldiers who had me up against the wall let me go so I could follow. Philana kept turning around to look at me… and every time I looked away, even though she never managed to turn around enough to see me. I wished they had blindfolded her. When we crossed the river, a soldier picked her up and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

I remembered when my dad used to carry me around like that… back when my mother was still alive and we had fun together. That seemed like so long ago now.

Deep in my thoughts, I looked up at the moon. In the ring of light around it, there was a single star. It would rain tomorrow. Clouds moved in and covered the moon, yet we moved on through the night, but not very quietly as it’s always said.

We walked on a wide road, the small rocks making up the gravel cutting into my bare feet. I winced as I took each step, and soon cold, wet, and sticky blood left tracks on the road. Was this ever a bad idea.

Note to self: never betray a friend. Among other things, shame, cowardice, and cut feet will follow.

At least Philana didn’t have to walk. Draped over the soldier’s shoulder, she could very well have been asleep.

It was strange… even though I hated that I had turned Philana in, there was something there, some feeling I had never felt before, a feeling that I liked. It could have been pride, maybe superiority, which, I guess, those two are the same or at least go together. The cowardice was still there, though, gnawing away at my thoughts. I hated being confused like this, especially when I wasn’t able to work it out very well.

I stumbled on the road, and fell down, rocks cutting my hands. Muttering under my breath, I scrambled to my feet. On the way up, my wrist brushed my sword hilt. I’d forgotten that I was armed. Not that it would help, I wouldn’t be able to do anything. The hills in my feelings kept rolling up and down, up and down… then there was a higher up, a lower down, an even higher up… and I pulled the sword out of its hilt. I’d gotten Philana into this mess, I’d get her out of it.

Whirling on the soldiers behind me, I swung the sword in a giant arc. Then as I turned to attack one, the other grabbed me from behind. I struggled to do two hard things at once, but soon focused on getting away from my captor (or were they Philana’s captors? Or both?), only for everything to become black.

I groaned and tried to sit up. Or, at least it felt like trying to sit up. I wasn’t really lying down, I was being carried in the same manner as Philana. My head hurt. So did my feet and hands, both of which were caked with blood. I glanced up, seeing the third soldier behind me, wearing my sword and sword belt.

“He’s come-to.” The soldier said, and I was set back down on my feet, then fell to the ground. My feet felt like they wouldn’t work. But I was yanked up and forced to walk. One foot in front of the other. Left. Right. Left. Right. Pain shot through my body with each step. They had only been carrying me because I could not walk. Which meant they were in a hurry. I slowed a bit when the pain grew worse, and was shoved roughly forward.

So I was no longer their spy.

I, like Philana, was their prisoner.

----------------

Would my father be proud of me?

I kept asking myself that, again and again. I was not proud of what I had done, not in the least. My mind was filled with unanswered questions.

Why had I done it?

What was going to happen?

How could I get Philana to forgive me?
How could we get away?
What would my father say?
Would he be proud?

Late the next day we entered the city. Philana was made to walk now, and they bound our hands in front of us as we went through the gate. This time I looked at her, but she was staring at her feet. Philana… oh, Philana… I’m so sorry.

They locked us down in a deep, dark, dungeon and left us alone. It was more of a hole in the ground with a grating on top, but it was big and the cold dirt felt good under my feet. Philana huddled in a corner, and from the way her shoulders shook, I knew she was crying. I wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. She wouldn’t believe me, and I’d just make a fool of myself.

So I looked around the dungeon, trying to find a place we could hide from the government or get out. It was dirt, but I didn’t think it would work to dig out, that would take forever and the walls of the city were probably really deep, and since the dungeon was right near the wall, that wouldn’t work so well.

A little later, Philana got up and began walking around. I knew saying “sorry” wouldn’t work on Philana. But she didn’t even know what happened.

“Philana, I…” I began. “I have a confession.”

She looked in my direction, her eyes listening… well, not really, but it kind of seemed like that.

“I did something I shouldn’t have. It…” I groaned and tried again. “That night, when I…” I leaned up against the wall, looking away from her. “I went back to the town and told them who you were.”

“I don’t understand…” She said, but I didn’t hear her.

“My dad put me up to it. It was a struggle from the beginning. I don’t know why I ended up doing it, and now I hate myself for it. If I could take it back, I would. I’m sorry, so sorry. I hate where it’s gotten us, I thought if I regretted what I’d done I could get you free somehow, but it looks like not. Now I’ve got to get both of us out of here…” I turned back to her. “If there’s anyway out of here, I’ll find it.”

Philana didn’t reply, instead she turned away and didn’t speak to me for two long, dark, lonely days.

-----

That's all I have of it so far. But I'm working on it a lot.


This one didn't turn out quite as I wanted it to... I was having trouble blending (again), and the pictures weren't quite right for it anyway, so I just erased everything but the main parts of the pictures.

This is to go with the Narnia banner I posted yesterday. I'm using them on the Arwen Undomiel forum right now, and they look quite nice together.



Kilo-Yankee

Graphics

Well, I downloaded the GIMP yesterday, and since then I've been working on blending stuff... having a bit of trouble with blending more than two pictures, but here's what I've come up with so far:

With this Eowyn one, I had a bit of trouble... I had it on the wrong setting for blending and didn't quite realize it.

This one is my most recent and probably best one. Not blended too well at the top-center, but I like it anyways.

Still thinking of text for this one.

Hehe... I love this one. I was having some trouble with blending (again), so decided to make it look like it was supposed to be a bit detatched.

My first banner. Ain't it sweet?


Kilo-Yankee