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I Didn't Say I Was Powerful, I Said I Was a Wizard
Iowa City, Iowa / June 3rd / 10:28 A.M.
“Hey Wilis,” said the ocelot, glancing back over his shoulder, “is there any way you could tell me more about what you heard? This beacon?”
“The thing is, dude,” the red wolf replied, “I’m not sure what to make of it myself. It wasn’t like I heard a voice in my sleep telling me to come out here and do whatever. It’s like this loud, repetitive noise in the back of my head. The more we walk around this park, the louder its signal gets.”
As the two young men openly pondered, they walked past a decorative gazebo and deeper into the lush, verdant vegetation of Hickory Hill Park. As Wilis Rockwell took it upon himself to describe in detail their reason for coming, Quinn Carvalho smiled cheerily as they both wandered into a tunnel made of intersecting tree branches. Wilis and Quinn may have made little progress, but their search was not made unpleasant by the late spring sunshine.
The ocelot chuckled and observed, “It’s a nice day to get lost, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m sure you got better shit to do though than escort me,” the red wolf remarked, grinning all the same, but there were still hints of solemnity to be found. “You’ve been very kind, Quinn. These clothes. Your home. I don’t know if I’m too cynical for my own good or what, but I’m thinking most people wouldn’t have been nearly as generous.”
The ocelot looked over the red wolf once more as he led the way. From underneath a curtain of sandy blond bangs, Quinn’s expressive honey-brown eyes regarded Wilis with a warmth that was both honest and trusting. If Quinn had any guile confined within him, Wilis surmised there’d be no refuge for it behind those benevolent brown eyes.
“Hey, you were a stranger and I welcomed you. It’s no big deal. Given those big black wings of yours, I figured I was entertaining angels unaware.”
Wilis’ grin quivered and shrank upon reflection. The red wolf had no recollection as to how he traveled from West Des Moines to Iowa City or in what state of being he was when Quinn discovered him, but the young man had his assumption. If what the ocelot said was true, then Wilis had truly flown for ninety minutes under the cover of night from that prison to some smoldering wreckage on the outskirts of town with no memory of ever taking flight. The ocelot had likely seen him in the striking, horrific form he always took whenever he lost control. If Quinn knew of Wilis’ black wings, then he’d not been given much of a reason to assist.
‘If he knows all about Deadwing,’ Wilis thought, ‘why did he help me?’
“Anyway, if there’s anything out of the ordinary here,” the ocelot chimed in, slapping the unembellished black cover of a leather-bound tome, “then this baby should tell us where to go!”
Quinn let out a small laugh as he lively strode onto a wooden bridge at the tunnel’s end. He then turned around and held the book aloft for Wilis to watch.
With a raised brow, the red wolf beheld the ocelot with mild incredulity and asked, “With what? That book? I don’t get it. How’s that supposed to help us find where that signal is coming from?”
“It’s not just any book,” said the ocelot, coyly biting his lower lip, “It’s my grimoire, and if there’s any trace of magic around here, it should detect how strong it is and where to find it.”
“Say what now?”
Quinn suddenly threw the thick, black tome into the air where it remained hovering of its own volition. Floating in mid-air, the book then spilled forth numerous blank pages in the empty space separating them. Using both hands, it appeared to the red wolf as if the ocelot was actively ordering the swirling pages into the treetops through the act of gesticulation alone.
“Oh yeah, by the way,” he blithely pronounced, “I’m a wizard.”
“Y’know, Quinn,” said the red wolf, wide-eyed and astonished by what he was witnessing unfold, “I should be more surprised, but I’m not.”
“Once it’s done scanning the area,” the ocelot said cheerily, “my grimoire will make this search a lot easier for us! Now that I think about it, I wonder what it’ll say about the Black Angel.”
With a single raised brow, the wolf asked, “Black Angel?”
“Uh huh,” he said, allowing the book to fall into his open palm. “It’s a statue in the nearby cemetery. It’s supposedly cursed, but I’ve never bothered checking it out for myself. As a mage, that should be easy to tell if there’s any truth behind the rumors.”
“With a name like that, I bet her presence doesn’t put many at ease.”
“Well, let’s see what we find here first, and work from there! Now, if you give me a minute, I’ll show you some pictures. I’ll pull up Google once this is done.”
“You do well by me, dude, and I’ll give fifty points to Gryffindor. How ‘bout that?”
Honestly, I truly can't thank
Crocdragon enough for what you're seeing here. I was absolutely thrilled to have the chance to commission him yet again, and like all those other times, he did not disappoint. As one of my favorite artists on this platform, I'm so grateful that he took the time to bring more of my characters to life!
art is © Crocdragon
Wilis Rockwell and Quinn Carvalho are ©
nazcapilot
“Hey Wilis,” said the ocelot, glancing back over his shoulder, “is there any way you could tell me more about what you heard? This beacon?”
“The thing is, dude,” the red wolf replied, “I’m not sure what to make of it myself. It wasn’t like I heard a voice in my sleep telling me to come out here and do whatever. It’s like this loud, repetitive noise in the back of my head. The more we walk around this park, the louder its signal gets.”
As the two young men openly pondered, they walked past a decorative gazebo and deeper into the lush, verdant vegetation of Hickory Hill Park. As Wilis Rockwell took it upon himself to describe in detail their reason for coming, Quinn Carvalho smiled cheerily as they both wandered into a tunnel made of intersecting tree branches. Wilis and Quinn may have made little progress, but their search was not made unpleasant by the late spring sunshine.
The ocelot chuckled and observed, “It’s a nice day to get lost, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m sure you got better shit to do though than escort me,” the red wolf remarked, grinning all the same, but there were still hints of solemnity to be found. “You’ve been very kind, Quinn. These clothes. Your home. I don’t know if I’m too cynical for my own good or what, but I’m thinking most people wouldn’t have been nearly as generous.”
The ocelot looked over the red wolf once more as he led the way. From underneath a curtain of sandy blond bangs, Quinn’s expressive honey-brown eyes regarded Wilis with a warmth that was both honest and trusting. If Quinn had any guile confined within him, Wilis surmised there’d be no refuge for it behind those benevolent brown eyes.
“Hey, you were a stranger and I welcomed you. It’s no big deal. Given those big black wings of yours, I figured I was entertaining angels unaware.”
Wilis’ grin quivered and shrank upon reflection. The red wolf had no recollection as to how he traveled from West Des Moines to Iowa City or in what state of being he was when Quinn discovered him, but the young man had his assumption. If what the ocelot said was true, then Wilis had truly flown for ninety minutes under the cover of night from that prison to some smoldering wreckage on the outskirts of town with no memory of ever taking flight. The ocelot had likely seen him in the striking, horrific form he always took whenever he lost control. If Quinn knew of Wilis’ black wings, then he’d not been given much of a reason to assist.
‘If he knows all about Deadwing,’ Wilis thought, ‘why did he help me?’
“Anyway, if there’s anything out of the ordinary here,” the ocelot chimed in, slapping the unembellished black cover of a leather-bound tome, “then this baby should tell us where to go!”
Quinn let out a small laugh as he lively strode onto a wooden bridge at the tunnel’s end. He then turned around and held the book aloft for Wilis to watch.
With a raised brow, the red wolf beheld the ocelot with mild incredulity and asked, “With what? That book? I don’t get it. How’s that supposed to help us find where that signal is coming from?”
“It’s not just any book,” said the ocelot, coyly biting his lower lip, “It’s my grimoire, and if there’s any trace of magic around here, it should detect how strong it is and where to find it.”
“Say what now?”
Quinn suddenly threw the thick, black tome into the air where it remained hovering of its own volition. Floating in mid-air, the book then spilled forth numerous blank pages in the empty space separating them. Using both hands, it appeared to the red wolf as if the ocelot was actively ordering the swirling pages into the treetops through the act of gesticulation alone.
“Oh yeah, by the way,” he blithely pronounced, “I’m a wizard.”
“Y’know, Quinn,” said the red wolf, wide-eyed and astonished by what he was witnessing unfold, “I should be more surprised, but I’m not.”
“Once it’s done scanning the area,” the ocelot said cheerily, “my grimoire will make this search a lot easier for us! Now that I think about it, I wonder what it’ll say about the Black Angel.”
With a single raised brow, the wolf asked, “Black Angel?”
“Uh huh,” he said, allowing the book to fall into his open palm. “It’s a statue in the nearby cemetery. It’s supposedly cursed, but I’ve never bothered checking it out for myself. As a mage, that should be easy to tell if there’s any truth behind the rumors.”
“With a name like that, I bet her presence doesn’t put many at ease.”
“Well, let’s see what we find here first, and work from there! Now, if you give me a minute, I’ll show you some pictures. I’ll pull up Google once this is done.”
“You do well by me, dude, and I’ll give fifty points to Gryffindor. How ‘bout that?”
Honestly, I truly can't thank
Crocdragon enough for what you're seeing here. I was absolutely thrilled to have the chance to commission him yet again, and like all those other times, he did not disappoint. As one of my favorite artists on this platform, I'm so grateful that he took the time to bring more of my characters to life! art is ©
CrocdragonWilis Rockwell and Quinn Carvalho are ©
nazcapilot
Category Artwork (Digital) / General Furry Art
Species Mammal (Other)
Size 1040 x 1280px
File Size 299.3 kB
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