.:Abby:.
Somnaia - the dream nymph
The boughs of the ancient oak stir with more than the weight of their dense leaves and the age of their creaking bark. They are old, older than man, and they carry what man has always sought to understand, but never been able to explain - dreams. As the cover of night glides over the world the silver-skinned dream nymph Somnaia wakes from her slumbers and emerges from the oak tree that she has made her home. She works quietly, her limber body entwined around the branches and indistinguishable from the starry night sky. To the mortal eye she is like a glimmer of moonlight on a glassy lake, or a breath of crystal night air on frosted window panes. Deftly, she weaves the dreams, and with the knowing touch of her gentle fingers she grants them freedom and bids them farewell into the night.....
And so there is the little story I concocted of Somnaia the dream nymph.
This pic took a lot of Frankensteining and a ridiculous number of layers, but I'm happy with it! :p
Somnaia - the dream nymph
The boughs of the ancient oak stir with more than the weight of their dense leaves and the age of their creaking bark. They are old, older than man, and they carry what man has always sought to understand, but never been able to explain - dreams. As the cover of night glides over the world the silver-skinned dream nymph Somnaia wakes from her slumbers and emerges from the oak tree that she has made her home. She works quietly, her limber body entwined around the branches and indistinguishable from the starry night sky. To the mortal eye she is like a glimmer of moonlight on a glassy lake, or a breath of crystal night air on frosted window panes. Deftly, she weaves the dreams, and with the knowing touch of her gentle fingers she grants them freedom and bids them farewell into the night.....
And so there is the little story I concocted of Somnaia the dream nymph.
This pic took a lot of Frankensteining and a ridiculous number of layers, but I'm happy with it! :p