I keep coming back to this Vice headline I saw and took a screenshot of this time last week, which inspired the title of this piece. Seems like a relevant metaphor to me (and others I know) for so many reasons right now! Thankfully nothing too traumatic in my case...
Well here we are. At the end of my Mugman Halloween comic. Or is it? MUWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! But seriously, this is the end of the comic itself.
The hair needs some work before I can say that this is finished. It's the only part that I'm not happy with.
Edit: I fixed the hair but made the face worse, and ended up ruining the painting. So. There you go.
The raven familiar sat atop Florien's head making a mess of his braids. Weaving herself a new nest, she pulled a long strand free from a loooping braid her gleaming beak tucking it into a place that she deemed appropriate. She watched the snowy landscape alert to danger as she worked.
