“SO LIKE, ARE WE GOING TO FUCK OR NOT?”Janus’ dead eyes wrap around the poor girl and constrict her, as if pulling the words of consent from her mouth. She can’t say no. And judging from what he’s briefly told her, she takes solace in knowing that no man or woman before her has ever had better results in restraint. Still, the dead eyes sadden her. Janus is an empty soul.
At the moons highest hour, men of all different countries converge in the city of Sin only to black out on the very drinks they got themselves. It’s only then that her heightened sense of smell awakens her lust for company and a centuries old thirst. They wake up in their hotels bleeding, believing to have injured themselves as a result of drunkenness. Such is the life of the modern Moon Child.
Smaller work, in the $10-50 range. So far, so good.The only thing is that painting so small gives my hand some stress. Working on that.