Phantom Hands

Rann kept himself carefully hidden from sight after they all landed. He kept to the cockpit, watching as Alesiel ranted with... nothing in particular, some figment of her imagination, making her own drinks. He listened to a particularly interesting conversation from the advanced comm station between some Signifer and a Praetor -- Rann wondered desperately what they were scheming but it was not the proper time to ask questions yet. He was a pirate, a Wyvern. He wasn't supposed to know how to do anything but swing a gun around, and nobody should be the wiser. All in good time.

Meanwhile, he sat in the dark and laughed to himself, tossing his little brass-like ball up and down in pleasure. It was a beautiful object, perfectly spherical to some millionth of a degree, and designed to do nothing save store a person's power. Rann let a few words of prayer tickle his lips, tasting them. They tasted like shadows, if shadows could be brewed into a fine wine from Alacaster...

“Stop that,” a voice demanded suddenly.

Rann glanced swiftly upward, startled. It was difficult to sneak up into this cockpit with only one entryway, the viewports blast-shielded and the portal locked down. The walls were draped in tasteful cloth and a few pieces of comfy furnishings brightened the gloom. The lit vidscreen flickered, warping the shadows and light into a marbleized pattern upon the walls.

A man with tumbled red hair and black attire entered the room suddenly, as if phasing from the shadows themselves, his young brow knit with concern. His hands were covered in black leather gloves that had to be new because they still smelled a good deal like a fresh replication. It was the same mercenary that had come to Sakio's mansion before Sedonna. Rann smiled in greeting. “Shouldn't mercs like you be sleeping at this hour?” he asked, hiding the little brass ball in one fist.

Tartarus scowled and did not step further into the small room. “That was too close, Rann. Too close. You could have split hairs on the edge of the Tartan sensor relay.”

“You weren't specific with how you wanted me to leave the planet. I improvised.”

The strange man's aggravation drained away into a kind of tired acceptance. He crossed his arms and paced in a slow circle, a single revolution, before glaring at the pirate again. “In any case, both our employers are greatly pleased. However, I'm going to need you once more. One more time, for something a little more tricky.”

“You're terribly pushy for a Nightmare.”

Tartarus grinned like a skull. And beneath his sallow skin, there did indeed seem to be the lines of a skull for a moment. “No one else is going to listen to a reasonable terrorist like me, certainly. Now. Here is what I need you to do.”

Rann felt two hands grab him casually but firmly by his arms. He blinked away the light and as his pupils grew, and he could see Tartarus still there before him. These were not his hands holding him now. Tartarus grinned darkly as the phantom hands tightened their grip.

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Good day there! Here's another Weapon of Hope illustration and scene from the novel of the same name. Rann the Pirate, and Tartarus the Nightmare. Took em, three evenings to complete I think. Very enjoyable.

Also I had no fracking clue how to draw drapery. Terribly difficult, pic might've been better without them but, well, it's there. XD