My bold homemade Soul Calibur OC, Sha-mitsu, letting her captor, Raphael, know what she thinks of him!~ 💜
A silly little doodle of Raphael as a chibi. 😛
My stepdaughter and her papa; my husband. 💜 I remember I worked on this for twelve hours straight!
This is me at 18 years old with Raphael, who has been my first love since I was 15. He means the absolute most to me. 💕
This is an alternative version of the first one. :3
The sexy, handsome and dangerous Raphael with my homemade Soul Calibur OC, Sha-mitsu. ;3 💜 He’s my first real love. =^///^= 💜
My homemade Soul Calibur OC, Sha-mitsu, kissing Raphael whom she has mistaken for her first master and falls in love with~ =^///^= 💜 This is supposed to be after Raphael fought Sha-mitsu’s new master, Yoshimitsu. I originally had a short drabble that went with this piece, but it’s been years since I last uploaded this that I can’t find it or remember much of it anymore. :<
Update (August 10th, 2021): I found the original vignette from 2009 that went with this art piece! Here tis:
The night was dark, and silent, with only the lumination from the streetlamps lighting the long road ahead. A young girl from Japan, stood looking at the older Frenchman before her.
Sha-mitsu had seen this man before in battle against her master, Yoshi-san; and followed him out into the night, where he seemed to be suspicious, and almost hostile, as he turned to face her.
The man spoke only a few sharp words, which she did not understand; surprising the girl who was certain that they had met before.
‘Is he not the one…’ She thought to herself, placing a finger gently against her scar, as he advanced towards her; cold blue eyes piercing into her sad brown ones.
The man peered over her, leaning forward, as he demanded her to answer; what was she thinking, by following him, not realising that she did not understand him.
As his eyes came to rest upon her kimono, he realised she must have been one of the followers of the masked warrior he had faced earlier.
His mouth barely opened to speak again, when her soft small mouth brushed against his; and his eyes widened in surprise, as he pulled back, to stare at her, stunned at the nerve of her actions.
The girl from Japan spoke in her native tongue, feeling as through she were shrinking, before his towering figure; whereas, the Frenchman stood there, motionless.
“…I’m sorry… I thought that you were…” Her voice softened to an almost silent whisper. “…somebody else.”