Alastor Drawing Outline Novels & Stories

Harlow growled and transformed into a large gray Lycan. Alastair grinned with a crooked smile. “Baby, I was already in hell.” He transformed into a black Lycan standing 6 ft 8”. His head nearly touched the hanging chandelier. Using shadow magic, I trapped Alastair’s feet to the ground. Black shadows gripped his ankles in place, enough to give Harlow an opening. At super speed, Harlow shredded Alastair’s body. Though his feet were bound, Alastair’s hands were still free. His hand swung faster and slammed Harlow’s body into the wall. We were too late to see it.

He tells me helpfully. "Yes but these are my babies. They are going to be angels." I tease him. He scoffs but follows me back to where my papers are sitting. He begins to look at all of the drawings that I have already completed. One shows just a vague outline of the outside. One shows the entire blueprint with minimal detail of the whole castle. The rest have more details but of much smaller areas of the castle.

I made a fist, which caused the vines to tighten. Finally, the struggling ceased, and it got a little easier to carry her. I wondered if she might have sprite or pixie blood, she was so light and small. She didn't seem to have much magic though, so that made it doubtful. Alastor, my black destrier, stood patiently in a clearing just down the road. I turned my head to whistle to him, but the pert ass of my captive was in the way. I suppressed the urge to run my hand over it, shocked that I would struggle to control myself this way.

Proserpina scoffed, swatting his hands away from her, “Quit it. I don't do hugs–” Alastor suddenly dropped forward like a tidal wave threatening to pull her down with him, arms wrapping around her waist. He was practically a koala–a six foot tall koala–as he all but threw himself on her, legs sprawled uselessly on the ground and all of his weight bearing down on her. She gave him her driest, blankest stare, eyes boring holes down at his stupidly smiling face, “Happy now?” Alastor simply hummed, nuzzling her stomach contentedly, a strange vibrating sort of noise coming from his chest… and forget the comparison about a koala or the fact that he is technically a wolf, he reminded her of a giant

I was looking for him, but I was not the only one. A presence shifted behind me. I did not turn immediately. There was no need. “You think too loudly,” a familiar voice said. I exhaled slowly. “You always appear where you are not welcome.” Alastor stepped into view with his usual calm, the kind that came from knowing most people could not touch him even if they tried. Apostle of Ra. Exiled on paper, tolerated in practice. “That is an interesting complaint,” he replied. “Coming from a man who treats contracts like loose guidelines.”

As I bent down to pick it up, I realised it had fallen open to a specific page. The illustration staring back at me held me in place like a beast with its claws in my chest. It was a drawing of a monster with long, dried-up black hair, claw-like nails, and prominent fangs. Below the drawing was a single red drop of blood, as if it were dripping from the fangs. I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher the ancient, jagged writing that surrounded the drawing:

And standing closest to the fire is no other than Alastair. He’s not wearing a robe. In fact, he’s not wearing much at all. He only has a loincloth, and while his physique is amazing, I find it hard to see. Mainly because black hair is starting to cover his body. At first I thought he’s smiling, but he’s only baring his teeth, showing his sharp incisors. Longer and pointier than normal. His gray have become pure white, much like the moon. Much like the eyes of the wolves in the forest.

No wonder Killian couldn’t look me in the eye this morning. I reach for the sketch pad Elara left by the nightstand. My fingers tremble, but I grip the pencil like it’s my lifeline. I don’t even think, I just draw. Symbols. Circles. Eyes with fire spilling from them. A wolf with a shattered spine. A crown that burns. A clock with no hands. My hand stops only when I notice the paper trembling beneath my touch. Not from me. From the floor. A low vibration hums through the wood. Like a warning.

Alastor's bright red eyes gleamed in anticipation, his blond hair was pulled back from his face in a tight ponytail. With a nod from him, the wolves stood to the side, sneering. Ronin knew the image he presented, an unbothered King caught up with his pet, not in the least intimidated by the challenge issued to him. Alastor’s eyes landed on Liora who was preoccupied with counting the rings in each fingerprint so she didn’t drop to her back to ask for belly rubs. Alastor smirked, “What’s this?” He jutted his chin towards Liora, “I do hope she is a part of the prize when I take the Helm.”

Alastor sees River and switches direction, grabbing River by the throat. Alastor squeezes River’s neck and he quickly begins to turn blue. River claws at Alastor hand, trying to get him to let go but he’s not letting up. I rush up behind Alastor just as Aspen cuts off Alastor’s arm. Alastor shifts while I am midair and I latch onto a piece of flesh on his shoulder. Alastor tries using his tail to hit me and turning his neck to grab onto me but I am in a good spot that he cannot reach me.